Brandon and I are in two leagues together, the keeper league I’ve commished for three seasons, and the “League of Champions” (aka LoC) that’s older than dirt (well, dirt that was born in 2002 or later). Brandon more or less dominated the LoC all year, finishing the regular season in first place with an 11-2 record, while I finished second at 10-3. My team is suffering from injuries and inconsistency, with the likes of Marion Barber, Kellen Winslow, and Reggie Wayne giving me some serious heartburn of late. Brandon’s team, meanwhile, is something of a juggernaut, with A-Pete and Forte at RB, Jay Cutler at QB, and the downright-terrifying Steve Smith at WR1.

So, of course, Brandon lost in the second round of the playoffs last week, while I somehow found a way to limp into the finals.

Sadly, I’m unable to work up any excitement about that finals matchup this weekend, as I’m still going through the various stages of grief over my loss in the keeper league, where Brandon cruelly dismembered my third-ranked team, which I thought was a pretty good bet to win it all. The loss of Peyton Hillis last week (which forced me to start Marvin Harrison in the flex spot), combined with the 1-2 punch of Andre Johnson and Antonio Bryant, put an end to those fantasies in short order. The postmortem is below (click to expand). Brandon’s team is on the left, mine’s on the right.

Postmortem

Brandon… you’re a bastard.

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