This past Sunday was a momentous occasion. No, not because the Greatriots righted the ship. No, not because I made any sort of shift in fantasy football. And definitely no, I wasn't anywhere the fuck near Munich for that fuckin game.

It was mine and Rachel's very first NFL Football Game!

That's right.

And not in the sense that it's the first game we are attending together, it is literally each our first times watching any National Football League game live, in a stadium.

Sure, I guess there is a little shame in that - we're both New England Greatriot fans and neither of us has ever seen the greatest Patriots to ever play in person:

• Brady
• Gronk
• Bruce Armstrong (my GOAT)
• Bledsoe
• (the good) Faulk
• Bruschi
• Vrabel
• Chris Slade
• Tebucky Jones
• Sam Gash (GOAT fullback name)
• Adam Vinatieri
• Gost-face
• Welker
• Randy Mawss
• Jules
• Ty Law
• Lawyer Milloy
• Junior Seau
• Revis
• "Clock Killin" Corey Dillon
• Vince Wilfork
• Richard Seymour
• The list goes on and on and on, holy shit does it go on

At least Rachel had participated in at least one rally (before the 2018 Super Bowl). My best attempt at attending a sporting event in-around Foxborough was a 1999 Revs game at that piece of shit Foxboro field. Sure, it was a god damn blast, but I can't believe it's been almost 25 years (although I was there for an AC/DC concert thanks to Feeley, like 10 years ago - that shit was fucking fun).

Anyway, it was fucking fun as hell. I reached back and had a performance for the ages. Despite just turning 40-years-old in July, I was able to dial it back to my college years, and started pounding beers and burgers at 1030am.

And unlike my college years, these were 3 and change % Natty Lights - they were kick-you-in-the-fuckin-face IPAs that ranged from 5.9%-6.8%

Hell man, I even did the decent thing and not asked the tailgate chef in charge to "hold the cheese." I fuckin pounded those charred-as-fuck beef patties with any cheese they came with. Sure, I complained several times to Rachel, but voice a request to the grillman? No fuckin way.

I have to say, I almost fumbled the road soda though: I completely forgot to transfer my beer into a red solo cup before the trek. Thankfully, someone gave me the protip and I was on my way with 18 more ounces of brew for the 30 minute walk. Nothing like pounding a couple road sodas in public. Really harking back to the days I barely remember.

So enough about the tailgating, let's talk about the game. The game.

The game I go out there and die for.

And boy, it sure was a game all right. I thought they were frustrating to watch on TV, but live you get to see all the players at once - the in-person all-22 was sight to behold, and jesus fucking hell it was obnoxious. Yeah sure, there was quite a bit of excitement watching the turnovers by the defense (although I missed the forced fumble takin a piss, but it's always such a glorious bonding moment when you're away from the action with other fans, and everyone's trying to make the funniest joke about something going on while none of us are there watching), seeing the tiddie toss to Hunter "Hearst" Henry, and that incredible run by Deandre the Giant.

But then the shit. So many dropped passes. So many terrible throws. So many terrible, horrible, god awful flags.

And most of all: that fucking 3rd and 23 conversion by Howell where all he did was run for the first down. Who the fuck lets a non-mobile QB get that fucking first down? Holy shit that was trash.

I spent quite a bit of that fourth quarter just hanging my head down in absolute shame while masshole fans around us were telling Mac to "get youah head in the fahken game" or "who the fahk is that cohnah who couldn't cover a bed!?" And of course, "THAT LIGHTHOUSE IS WICKED FAHKEN FAKE, TOO"

Sure. The game ended in embarrassment when our for-sure game winning drive sputtered and Mac tossed a god damn motherfucking game-ending interception. So many disappointed fans just showering the field with curses and boos.

But then it happened.

Now - before I get to the incredible event, I'd like to discussing a topic that I'm sure anyone of us who have ever attended a sporting event has thought about: what happens if I fell forward over some seats? If you're in the lower deck, there really isn't that problem. There's enough space in to allow people to shuffle to their seats deep inside a row, and if not people can stand up and give you a little more wiggle room.

But if you're in the nosebleeds, the upper-decks, the 300s and above, shit gets sheer. The backs of seats barely poke above the path and you can't really rely on leaning on them for support. And there's the possibility that, if you maybe lost your balance, how far would you tumble?

Well. Rachel and I learned through first-hand observation that you'd tumble a minimum of 3-4 rows of seats. Holy fuckin shit, and you're gonna god damn land HARD.

No one from our group actually saw what originally happened, but before we knew it, two male adults just fucking tumbled backwards into our row, slamming down on the seats next to us before finally stoppin in the row ahead of us. It was fuckin wild, one of the dudes took quite a bit of impact right IN THE FAAACE, popping his hat off.

Thankfully, no shoes went flying so immediately I knew no one died - but they were fuckin rocked hard. The older guy just kept holding his mouth - but no blood, or even broken teeth. But holy shit, those aerial acrobatic tumblers must have god damn tossed themselves down with how far they rolled. My only regret is not actually seeing how they fell originally, because it must have been quite the fucking sight. I can only assume one started falling and grabbed the other, kicking off a deep-seeded rivalry and/or brotherly hatred that will last for as long as the bumps and bruises do.

All in all, great time in section 313 for the Patriots game. Fuckin sucked that they gave up a god damn fucking touchdown lead, but whatever, at least I got to get drunk and see a game, all for free.

ENN EFF ELLLLLLLelelelelelelel

This is going to be the stupidest fuckin abbreviated shit you ever done seen.

SO BUCKLE-UP BUCKAROOS

Tittans @ Stillers

It ain't pretty, but the fuckin Steeers are 5-3

That AFC Norf is such a clusterfuck. Gonna give the 2002 AFC BEast a run for competitiveness (all teams finished 9-7 except the Bills who went 8-8).

Fraudphins @ Chefs

Photo of Dolphins arriving at the game vs. the Chiefs

Vikes @ Failcons

STL Cards @ BOROWNS

LARims @ Packpackpack

The 9ers really fuckin made out like bandits by having their bye-week to just watch the absolute fucking failings of the rest of their division.

Commies @ Trashriots

Not sure what the fuck else I can even say about this game.. And really the entire fucking division either.

It's gonna be a long couple of years with Bill searching for the right mix of players while the rest of the NFL deservedly dunks on us like a 21st Century Lister Blister.

Brrrs @ Aints

All I got are a couple fun facts:

• The Saints are now 15-1 when Hill has 8 or more rushing attempts in a game.
• A coin has correctly predicted the Saints first 9 weeks

Seadonkeys @ Raves

Ravens treat the NFC like Brady treat the Bills.

Quoth the Raven,

"Imma fuck you up."

Buccos @ Tejans

Baker Mayfield watching his defense giving up the win to ruin his chance at a game-winning touchdown drive

Clots @ Kittehs

Gins @ Rrrrrrrrraiders

daLLLLas @ EGLSES

Bill's @ Bungles

Here's a clip from some movie: Bills fans watching the Bills leave 13 seconds for Mahomes knowing now it was their last shot at a Super Bowl,

Charge @ Jest

Recaps!

TIME TO FEAST MOTHERFUCKERS

W (3-6) Team Name

L (6-3) America First

Brutal loss drops America First into America Third. I guess it was so disappointing, America First had to go out for a ride,

Kinda risky to go without a helmet, but I suppose brain damage would greatly add to the team theme.

However, if we're talkin rosters, I did not see the dynamic duo of Amari and Deshaun "Groper Cleveland" Watson leading the way for Team Name. What I did see was yet another fucking miserable week of Davante Adams not fucking doing anything. How does a top-tier, elite receiver get doubled (doubled and a half, actually) by his own D/ST?? Fuckin wild.

Frustration for Adams aside, it didn't really fuckin matter cause Team Name got that Team Win. If anyone was fucking frustrated, it was absolutely Mr. Dogwhistle, America First,

W (5-4) Bloodfeast Islandmen

W (4-5) Sir, This is an RBs

Despite the most shocking fucking output from Llamar - how does a team win 37-3 and their QB only score 11.48 fucking points - Bloodfeast was able to handily win their matchup.

However if there's a betrayal, it'd be the RBs against their own god damn namesake. Them Islandmen running backs put up 45+ points and a positive differential of ~25 points.

What? DOES NO ONE UNDERSTAND HOW SERIOUS THAT POINT WAS?

Perhaps the team should change their name from Sir, This is an RBs to: Holy Shit, Why Did I Depend On The Cowboys and Gabe Davis?

Boom: roasted.

(but not really, holy shit I'm struggling this week)

But for real, what the fuck is going on with Gabe Davis? 2 targets and fuckall for production.

W (7-2) Jerome Boger American Icon

L (5-4) SmokinJoeSpouse

Oof. The league's longest active winstreak is fuckin OVAH. What was once a postseason position is now on the outside looking in. Welcome to Loserville where I'm the fucking Mayor.

Oh wait - there's still season left? Ahh. Well in that case, you give 'em hell, babe! Please don't hurt me.

Anyway, speaking of complete fucking Loserdom: Cooper Kupp has fucking sucked for three straight weeks. Sure, it's been fucking consistent with outputs of:

• 6.9
• 6.1
• 6.8

But holy shit what the fuck is going on? The fact that this highly regarded and highly drafted receiver is disrespecting every single fantasy owner who has given him a chance should not be taken lightly. And all those flaming bags of dog shit we have uber delivered to his doorstep are 100% worth it.

In more important news: WE HAVE A TEAM NAME CHANGE! One of our founding member team names has made the move and rebranded,

Jerome Boger America Icon

Yeah so he looks kinda like a ghost and not carved stone, whatever

I personally love the rebrand. It is time to usher in a new era and leave the False Starts behind!

W (7-2) the periscope baltic rain shins

L (5-4) Two hotdogs one bun

According to my notes, this was a close matchup or some shit, that's why I didn't have the W/L and records completed before Tuesday morning.

But upon further inspection, I'm seeing a god damn fucking 22+ point win for the perscopic chain reactions so what the fuck was I thinking? How many fuckin points did I expect Breece Hall to sco-...

Oh shit.

OH FUCK.

THAT'S HOW YOU WON?? WHAT THE FUCK. Absolutely brutal. What the fuck even happened Monday Night??? Was Zach Wilson really that bad?

No wait. Why am I asking, of course he was that bad.

L (1-8) Team Goldest

W (5-4) Team Golder

Welp. The name change was clever, but alas it did not curry you any favor with the Gods.

Ekeler and Joey B did what they needed to do, but holy shit the rest of that roster kinda just shit they pants. Really shows off how dogshit the projected scores really are. What the fuck was this 16.2 projected points for Waddle?? Or 14.1 fucking points for Zay Flowers? The fuck dipshit algorithm does ESPN run for these numbers?

Much like with Who's Line is it Anyway, where everything is made up and the points don't matter! That's right, the points are just like the talent portion of a beauty contest.

Or like a degree from an online University.

Or a suggestion box at Tienanmen Square.

Or Blair Witch 2.

Or a hat in an orgy.

NOTHING FUCKING MATTERS. THAT ALL MATTER IS MERELY ENERGY CONDENSED TO A SLOW VIBRATION.

THAT WE ARE ALL ONE CONSCIOUSNESS EXPERICING ITSELF SUBJECTIVELY, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS DEATH, LIFE IS ONLY A DREAM, AND WE ARE THE IMAGINATION OF OURSELVES.

(here's Tom with the weather)

L (5-4) Combined Arms

W (1-8) The Lying Media

Every week. Every fuckin week it's the same thing. I wake up, take a long look in the mirror and think, "this week will be different."

Welp. Much like every single fucking week, it ended up the same: I underachieve my projected score and get my shit pushed in by my fucking opponent.

Congrats on the god damn win you glorious bastard. I can't even be fucking mad that Bijan sucks dick right now because his head coach is a chinless fucking moron from a billionaire family who's done nothing but fail upward.

My season is pretty much done, so the best I can do is try to be a speed bump that trips up someone on their way to the postseason.

Fin.

OK. Good Lord thank goodness it's over. I probably should have just taken a bye this week - it was a struggle to get through all the matchups using complete sentences. Sometimes you just ain't got it, but if you've made it to this point then I congratulate and appreciate you.

If you haven't, then I still appreciate you.

Good luck this week everyone! We're halfway through the NFL season, which means we're a little bit over halfway through the fantasy season.

Cherish these moments! I know I do!

Take care, fuckers. Love you.

And happy birthday, Rachel! LET'S FUCKIN PARTY!