For some backstory, as was mentioned in the Commish’s (#notmycommish) draft grades for our league, him and I are fantasy enemies. This is a feud that started off subtle. The Commish thought he was the shit and knew far more than anyone else in the league about football, so I don’t think he really took me seriously. He was under the impression that him and Michelle (and maybe Space Ghost here or there) were going to run the show year in and year out, but little did he know, I was lurking in the shadows during the lost seasons (the ones that aren’t enshrined on the Broly Grail, and therefore don’t mean shit), waiting to unleash my flurry of more accurate takes and wins against him. Three years ago, in the city of sin and misery that is Las Vegas, 10Guys1Cup held our first destination draft, and it is there that my rivalry with the commish was turned up to 10. Being the competitive and degenerate gamblers that we are, many fantasy football bets were made (He even paid someone $50 for the Broncos defense), including the beginning of the tradition that the Commish and I bet each other for the league dues, since we always play each other week 1 of the season.  Today, our rivalry burns white hot, and beating each other means almost as much as winning it all. Although, I have to ask, are rivalries only rivalries if they’re competitive?

I pose the question in the title because for the last three years, since the very birth of our rivalry, I have dominated the Commish in week 1, and therefore have never had to pay league dues.

             Dr. Karatechop            Commish

2015:              126                              110

2016:              138.3                           104.2

2017:               109.8                           94.6

That’s an average margin of victory of 21.76 (repeating of course). On top of that, last year we integrated “Ice punishments” into our league, where the loser has to chug Smirnoff Ice while bending the knee, and send video of it to the league. The Commish didn’t beat me a single time, was forced to drink Ices in the double digits, including 6 from one bet alone, and then had to witness me also win the championship.

Now, you may notice that I’m posting this on Monday afternoon of week 1 of the NFL season, so there are still two games to be played tonight. You may be wondering, “why don’t you just wait a day and post this after the games are over?”. That is a valid question, and I thought about waiting. But you have to understand, I’m about as competitive of a guy as there is, and I’m going to take every opportunity I can to catch the commish off guard and deliver maximum punishment. Posting this for the world to see even a few hours earlier gives me even more enjoyment, so I couldn’t resist.

So…. the primary reason I’m posting this early, is because this week is already lost for the Commish.  He’s lost all hope, after spending yet another offseason doing everything in his power to beat me. I’m like the Bill Belichick to his Bill O’Brian. He tried to talk shit (as he should), spent all offseason telling me about how my championship was going to motivate him to new heights, and yet he still couldn’t do it. He now has to spend this entire season with this weighing on him, regardless of how his team does. Even if he somehow managed to win it all (yeah right), he’d still have this defeat hanging over him like the darkest cloud that rains only shame. Just look at the pain in those eyes.

At the time of this writing, the current score is 136.16 to 70.84. I still have the Detroit defense to play, while the Commish has Robby Anderson and Brandin Cooks playing tonight, but it won’t make a difference in the outcome. By the Commish’s own calculations, this is what would have to happen for him to beat me, and nicely showcases his denial:

“Brandon Cooks will have 2TDs 125 yards on 12 catches giving me 30.5 points.
Robby Anderson will have 3TD for 150 yards on 8 catches giving me 37 points.
Detroit D will give up 34 points giving Dr. Champ -1 point.”

Interestingly, this year the Commish was feeling particularly confident for some reason (I tell ya, he never learns), and wanted to add a second layer to our bet where the winner gets to choose the losers team name. Of course I was going to oblige, and given the current status of our matchup I feel comfortable choosing his team name early. Although I earned this honor, I’ve been debating what approach to take with his team name. The Commish is a self-deprecating, masochistic glutton for punishment when he’s losing, so it has been a bit challenging coming up with something that’ll really sting throughout the season. Ultimately, I decided to go with something simple, but timeless. At first glance, it’ll seem like a basic name that didn’t have much thought put into it. But keep in mind, this will be seen by the Commish every time he opens the league page. I want him to see it over and over until he starts believing it. Like I said, even if he pulls off some miracle of miracles and wins it all, he’ll still know this to be true.

So without further ado, the Commish shall hereby be known as:

Dr. Champ’s Bitch

So I leave you with this question to ponder. What determines a rivalry? Is it merely a bitter feud that wages on through time? Does competitiveness matter? If one side constantly pummels the other, is that a rivalry, or a conquest?

Love,

Dr. Karatechop

 

Update: Just for historical purposes, the final score of our matchup was 145.2 to 90.3, bringing the average margin of my dominance to 30.1.