As many of you know, I enjoy going berserk when things don't go the way of arvid in this highly competitive world we inhabit here. I have a team that is struggling mightily! I cannot figure out why it stinks. I used base principles(good defense 2b,ss,cf,best pitching available) when drafting. Plus there was a blacklist, so I assumed that would give me a leg up right there. Unfortunately, my pitching has gotten blistered and has led me to punch multiple holes in my wall. That depressed me. I utterly destroyed the wall next to my computer(on the plus side, my calcified mounds of pain still pack a wallop. That wall got busted up). Then I became sullen and somber. Had I just wasted $12.95? Am I losing my touch? Since my summer sabbatical had the game changed to the point that now I am the one playing chess with checkers? Then I started thinking about a very influential man if my life, John J. Rambo. Could you imagine a one man human killing machine wallowing in his sorrow for any longer than a night on a damp and rocky mountain-top? Can you imagine John J. Rambo buckling to the pressure of other owners passing you by and beating down on you like they were a collective Brian Dennehy?
Can you imagine someone stealing my mojo like David Caruso and Art Gault tried to steal John J's pride AND his knife? Pondering this I felt a growing rumbling in the core of my being. My ears started to perk like a cocker-spaniel, my eyes widened juust a bit and my lips became suddenly pursed. "NOTHING'S OVER!" was then bellowed out of my mouth and a rejuvenated sense of pride and motivation fueled by shame and anger came over me. arvid is back, and he's taking no prisoners...
