Krons 39 Ubermen 37


It was quite simply, the greatest fantasy football game of all time. When Matt Forte crossed the goal line – no – when Matt Forte pushed ahead to get a first down on a 4th and 1 – then pushed ahead to get the go ahead Touchdown in what looked like an Ubermen Victory, fate stepped in and gave the Krons a touch on the shoulder. “No Kron, we are still with you, stay true to yourself.”

So when Mason Crosby stepped up to give the Packers the win, the Bears Defense, owned by the brother of Kron, stepped up, blocked it, and set up Rob Gould for a game ending game winning Super Bowl clinching heart attack victory for the Krons. The Ubes rushed accross the field and shook hands, then went to a quiet place to think about what might have been.

For the Krons, their first championship came to them in a wave of glory and, to quote the great Vin Scully – “In a year of the improbable, the Impossible happened.” For the first time in league history, the Krons have taken the belt and taken away the demons that took the place of sheep on so many an evening in Kronland.

The Maypoles are decorated with Rasta colors and all is right in their world – nobody can ever take it away and no better game will ever, EVER be played. The Schwartz watched each move and stood unbelieving at what was done in the world of fantasy between these two great competitors – and to the Ubermen we tip our fedora in respect.

It is however, the Winter of Kron, as the bridesmaid has finally checked into the honeymoon sweet with Steven Jackson, Clinton, the Quon, Tony G, Lendal White, Peyton Manning , Steve Smith, Gregg Jennings, T.O.  and of course, Kron Legend, Robbie Gould. We have no doubt that the Krons will be first in line at Ross to pick up a jersey.

What a call to put Jennings in their for his first start of the year and to sit Rackers, setting up Gould for the glory. Truly, this coach knows what he is doing, and deserves the bulls eye he will wear on his back next draft day. A fantasy mind for all time!

But on that day, next draft day, the last belt pass will end on him, and he will walk the walk of those before him as he enters the hall of champions and receives greetings from those who have been there before. We all know that nobody has survived a playoff run like this and, well Korny Boy, the Schwartz couldn’t be happier for you. You are now a champion.

Great coaching in the greatest game ever played. This shows what fantasy is and why we live and die in this world.

And now, now the winter begings and the Schwartz set sail over the horizon watching Blue Ray replays of this game that will be talked about forever. Family will know what is what. Fantasy became reality this year, right before Christmas – The Krons are the champs.

A final tip of the hat to all from the Schwartz on a Fantasy Season for the ages.

Until Next year, remember that Fantasy becomes real when you believe in the unreal.

Robbie Fucking Gould for the win in Overtime to give the Krons the Belt.

Unreal. Truley.


Renaissance Bowl


What a weekend of Playoff Football. The Krons and Pals came down to the final play on Sunday Night, but the Pals devotion to all things Dallas cost them a trip to the Big dance and instead had to watch the janitor sweep up the celebration leftovers of the Krons Getting over on the Pals Party. How will it feel knowing that Calvin Johnson was not allowed to step on the field on the biggest game of the year or that the Vikings Defense finally came through? Well, a 32 – 30  final score is all you need to know about how the Pals must have gone to bed that night, if they slept at all. Still, a great game and the Krons move on to try and claim their fist championship ever. The San Diego Junior High School Band Core, a group of 38,345 brace faced teens are waiting at the airport to play the Krons Bond fire celebration, as they now await the Ubermen, who had their own type of victory.

The Bugs tried to be cute and call up Indy to face Detroit and ended up costing themselves a game, their pride and their season. Old Man Kurt could not escape the will of the Ubermen, who summoned up their mojo, mustard and tanks filled with the will blood of diesel to pull off an amazing victory. Word is the Krons and Ubes watched together and gave high fives and hugs deep into the night. What a story for the Ubes, who found a way in and made the most of the opportunity – just like that program that puts the special kids in the classroom so that they can function in the real world, which of course is the fantasy world, which is now controlled by the Krons and Ubermen. Well done.

And so, the Renaissance Bowl is about to go down in Southern California, both teams hungry for a belt and the honor to call themselves a champion. The Ubes are looking for their second belt and return to glory with a backfield that features two backs that refuse to become the Deuce McCalister’s of today while the Krons look to give a middle finger to a league that has no love for their tactics. Matters not – you gotta love yourself and take the bacon when the store is open, otherwise you’ll be looking through the trash and trying to make yourself believe you’re really at the table. No Pals and Bugs, you are not.

Table for two and the finest joint in all the land belongs to the Krons and Ubermen, who look across from each other wondering who is looking at the next champion of our world. One week left for glory.

A fantastic season is about to draw to an end, but the final act is still to be written.

Good luck to both.

BWMFL Post Season


What an amazing end to the regular season. The Ubes got back the goal line score they lost in Gettysburg with a DaShea Townsend score that put them into the Offs. Winning 2 0f their last 3 games and eating the blood oozing from Leg De Plax was enough to get them stumbling in past the Rider and Rook Squads who could not get the win, place or show in their horse race away from the glue factory.  Doesn’t matter how you get your ticket to the big dance, so long as you’re there while the music is still playing loud enough to make a wallflowers bloom. The Riders didn’t break 20 against an X team that felt no need to call in a line up for the last week of the season and STILL couldn’t get a Helen Keller tutor to extend their season.

The Rooks? Well, they just couldn’t keep out of their own way. Sitting Brian Westbrook for two weeks straight in games they HAD to have makes no sense – but then again, this is Rooks Management who orchestrated a collapse that we here in fantasy land have no Bailout for. Rooks, I had to take a second mortgage out on the Glass Star to pay off my gambling debt. But this is not the time to talk of those who are no longer in the mix. It is time for the true season, the playoffs to begin. Let’s take a look, shall we?


Is there a better coach in the history of fantasy football? Mr. Bug would like nothing better than to solidify himself in fantasy lore with a second ring and a victory lap around the league. The match-ups look nice for the Bugged one to come out and bring pain. The Children of the world have gotten their bowls of Count Chocula cereal from the charity fund and  are lined up in front of their plasmas waiting in anticipation for a victory party. Kurt Warner leads an amazing team out onto the field each week, and the playoffs should feature much of the same. These guys are the George Forman’s in his prime of the league, and with the world picking up Bug Fever, it should be a great season for the favorites to take home the belt. However, being the favorite doesn’t always mean that you’re going to take home the Easter Basket. After all, Bunnies have a hard time holding on in the snow. Does it snow in San Diego? No. Is this one of the greatest teams of all time? Let’s see. And we will.

#2 The Krons

You know the drill right? Always the brides maid, never on the honeymoon unless they paid their own ticket and looked in through the window at what happens at the party. The Krons have been beasts all year and have shown heart, talent and the ability to make the right calls. All of the may pole dancers are asking for PT, but there are only so many slots, so we’ll see how they do making the calls. This man has made sweet music all year long, so he must MUST attempt to stay away from spending too much time at the discount rack looking for that one Sheila E. EP with the extended Drum solo. Just because it’s dope doesn’t mean you need to have it. Still, we like the young Krons chance to go after the belt and figure him to be playing for the big piece of Christmas Goose. 

#3 The Pals

The Pals come stammering in Drunk and injured, but they have a punchers chance. One has to wonder how those sub freezing streets of Harlem are treating the man this late in the game? The whole thing feeds off of Chris Johnson, and these top teams don’t scare easily. Can the Pals get their 3rd championship? The Schwartz says no and Vegas doensn’t answer my calls, but who cares what they think? The Pals have knocked the Krons out twice in the post season so you know they are going to face a foe who isn’t afraid to Jerry Curl out his blond locks in the Diego Sun to make the field a little slippery. The Pals are the wild card for sure, but have been solid all season. Any slippage might cause heart break. The Pal Pen is full of the crazies sleeping in tents, all holding up their piece of aluminum to get a clear radio station signal for the big game. Good show Pals, now let’s see if you can bring it to Turner Movie Classics for the residuals. 

#4 The Ubes

Germans don’t speak English, but they invented it and will remind you of that fact each time they enter the room. Survival is all it takes and now they are here praying, willing, that Aaron Rogers and Matt Forte can prove one and for all that the NFC Central is the real deal. We see you Ubes, we know where you like to shop. Going against the Bugs for the second time in row will be tough, but the Ubes fear nobody – NOBDOY, and have made the Offs again, refusing to draw associations with any of the dregs of the lower class fantasy dwellers. Don’t ask me no questions and I won’t tell you how I got here. Blood, guts, and a Stealer miracle to rip the face off the Riders was what it took and they got it. Now, how much diesel is left in the tank? Is there a secret weapon we don’t know about? Are the phone lines in Buffalo still working? No matter, the battle cries will be loud enough to reach the troops. Team Chutzpa Lives!


It’s the second season. The one of Champions. Let’s see what is WHAT!

Irv’s Ready, are you?

Ubes 39 Krons 26


Desperate. Hungry. Battle weary. Arrested. Shooting themselves in the leg! No matter, as the Ubermen band of last gasp hope parade continues for another week, refusing to let go of their playoff chances as a man from Tennessee snatches Mr. White’s Turkey day thunder with boot after boot of pain. German pain. determined pain. The Krons are once again finding it difficult to win when the weather turns cold, so they better hope those receivers can put up big numbers in the ‘Offs. Mrs. Jackson, you are being paged to the white curtousy phone. Ubes, this was a huge gut check win for you this week, and now your playoffs start again. Early. We are impressed with your chutzpa and unwillingness to fade quietly into the night. It appears that the Germans, after all, have not outlawed miracles. Krons, you are looking a little soft right about now, and we’re wondering where all your funny smack has gone. Little attempts at being humorous don’t win championships, and if you want a key to the executive washroom, you’ll need to come up big in the cold days of fantasy land. The Ubes have survived the wars and have one battle left to fight before they rolls those tanks over to the promised land. What are they running on? Guts. Krons, what are you running from?


London Broil thinks that by writing halfway funny quotes and digging into the Photobucket archives that he might be able to bring some publicity to a club that rivals the Lions in futility. DeAngelo Williams looked deep into the eye of a hungry wolf dog, charging with everything it had, and said, no, no my friend – dogs don’t talk in my fantasy world. Can anyone beat this Bug team, which poured the extra gravey that Yo Adrian brought to this Thanksgiving day point feast! The Bugs are marching towards their second championship and picking up mercenaries along the way to join their army and take place in the celebration at the end of the rainbow. Word is that they have already booked Cool and the Gang to be singing at the finish line when the Bugs comes marching home. This is a well put together team that treats those they are playing like toys made in China that made children sick when they played with them. How does JT O Sulivan and the Niners defense look about now? Have you learned your lesson or are you going to spend 80 cents on Vernon Davis again next year. I’m sure the rest of the league appreciates using your apartment for the draft – why? Because the laughter echoes niclely through the building as they exit. It’s like paying for a show with Monopoly money.

Bug Child: I did my homework Mr. Bug, should I read it.

Mr. Bug: Do you need to ask?

Bug Child: I do.

Mr. Bug: You Do.

Bug Child:

Wolf Dog we wear your fur.

We are warm, you ice

Think about us in alley, gone.

Pals 51 X 39


The Pals hosted a Thanksgiving day Parade in Harlem and asked Jerry to show up early – Little did the soon to be X – Champ know that it was HE who was to be the Turkery. Chris Johnson turned out the lights before Jerry had fully sipped his first hint of Brandy, and when it was over, the Pals punched their ticket to the Playoffs using a fountain pen Jerry hocked at 137th and Broadway. The Pals have a punchers chance in the Offs, but they have no quality wins this year and are likely in the offs only because of the sub par performances of the rest of the league. Still, after being the whore of the league, the pony boy express is riding Tony Romo until he breaks – let’s see if he can withstand the ride from both Jessica and the Pals. Jonathan Stewart should be ashamed of himself, but not as much as you Jerry – though basing your whole season on Randy Moss and Tom Brady was fancy, the Football Gods don’t respect glamour boys Jer, which in reality as well as fantasy, is what you are. Pals, you survived the wars to make it in, so big ups to you for that. Now let’s see what you’re made of. Jerry, please, just leave the stage, there’s nobody left watching you.


The Riders are swinging and cursing their way to the finish line, but it is an angry rage that is meant only for the man in the Mirror. Rooks, we told you – we told you not to do what you do when you want it to be done, but you didn’t listen, and therefore had to sit by on a cold night in Hollywood watching Brian Westbrook the the turkey you left at the store. Riders, it’s you and the Ubermen for the final slot. Not only must you win, but you must run up the score to get in to the Offs! What a final week it shall be. Down in the new Rider Diego Rivera Road House truck stop, the Riders are sitting with the ghost of Hunter S. looking for a few Hells Angels for a final ride towards destiny. Rooks, you once again must take that long walk down the highway of never will and hope that you can find a soul along the way. The Schwartz put up much of his savings on you this season, as we believed the oddsmakers didn’t follow the word of god, but we know not the lord you serve. Riders, we like it the blood bath that will come between you and the Ubes this weekend, scoreboard watching has never been so much fun.