"I've had an entire off-season, and it's taken that long, to reflect on last year's performance. I've kicked myself for poor choices... I've cursed you for your game choices... and, yes, I've shed a few tears. But I think I've moved into "acceptance," and I believe I've grown from the experience. And by "acceptance," I mean that I now accept that Scott Pacheco somehow put those s#!tty picks in my head, thereby allowing that glorious Ramon Escobar Trophy to sprint out of my grasp faster than Usain Bolt on steroids. Not again! This time the strategy's in place, and that golden b!tch is mine! By the way, my game picking handicap is 22 games. You'll give me that, right?" -- Alex T.
"I am in his year. Hell, the corresponding e-mail addresses alone are worth $10. You have a ‘who’s who’ of bankers, doctors, lawyers, lawn guys, bond guys, car guys, pilots, priests, principals, builders, bums, nomads, and more… Plus, as Ramon’s teammate on the famed ’82 Wabbits Dynasty, I feel compelled to compete for the coveted trophy." -- Keith C.
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