Monthly Archives: August 2008

This and That

So now that the shock of all this new MLOM stuff is starting to wear off, I thought I’d discuss the history and some things about the site(s) a little bit.  Some of it can be gleaned from the earlier posts below, but here’s a little more.

The idea hatched back after the Super Bowl – I was still so high on football (wonder why) and thought I’d just make it happen.  We’d actually discussed the thought of a website a few years ago I recall, but nothing came of it.  I wondered if we should switch MLOM to a non-yahoo site, something with better archiving and dynasty league functionality, but I thought to hell with it.  The Yahoo archiving, while not great, is still good and last year when it came out it just sealed the deal.  Actually, I more or less couldn’t have made the website without it.  More on the other site in a second.

I really wanted to have this blog simply be a part of the site, kind of like a forum really, but I had neither the technical know-how to do it nor the patience/ time to learn and make it happen.  Hence the two different sites.  I like the idea of doing commish notes over here – where they are more or less permanent for years.  Also, the addition of pictures, italics, and things like that sparks my interest.  Goat of the week with a picture of an actual goat?  Commish likes.  Also, I would like this place to have multiple people posting if needed – so if you want to be an author, no problem, simply make a wordpress account and let me know the info.  Then you’ll be posting here as well with “I hate my team”,  “I hate Norm’s team and Tom Brady”, or whatever.

I’m sure things will be a little schizophrenic at first as I try to decide what to post on the yahoo site, what to post here, etc.  Will there be double posts?  I don’t know.  Yet.  It’ll sort itself out.

Onto the real prize – the archive site.  Here’s some quick bullets about that.

-You know me, always looking up stats for records and numbers.  Well I decided to do it once and for all.  I combed through tons and TONS of scores and games and stats to compile what, relatively little, you see on that site.  Sometimes it was fun.  Sometimes (often) it was tedious.  Regardless, I’m pleased with the end result.  One of the funnest things was hoping against hope that my Heeds wouldn’t be at the bottom of the Stink Bomb game list or hoping they’d be at the top of the Best Game ever list.  That was fun, seeing who ended up where.  Let the trash talk begin.  (Gabe, worst single-game output EVER?  That hurts.)  And so forth.

-That damn 2003 season.  For whatever reason, 2003 did not archive like the other seasons.  The only things visible from 2003 are the overall records, overall point totals, and the playoff brackets.  For every individual game, it simply says “Bye” for all teams for all weeks.  That means no head-to-head records from that year.  No individual games reviewable.  I have no idea why 2003 is affected this way while 2001 and 2002, prior seasons, are just fine.  But it kind of drove me nuts.  I mean I understand 1999 and 2000 not being available, simply for age-related reasons alone.  But 2003?  It makes no sense.   Who does it hurt in the overall records/stats category?  Papa Roston – that’s who.  The guy went 11-2 that year, probably laying the wood to a ton of people in the process.  Or Fwats, who went 10-3.   Who does it help?  Well, Norm I guess, who ended 2003 at 4-9.  Either way, 2003 just bothered my sense of completeness.

-On a similar statistical note, almost everything you see on the site is “Regular Season Only” unless playoffs are specifically mentioned.  The individual playoff game scores are not archived, all we know in the end is who won and who lost, and of course that’s most important in the playoffs anyway.  Similarly, consolation playoff games are more or less thrown out of any and all records, since they are total garbage in my opinion anyway.  So they aren’t represented at all, anywhere, and never will be.  They don’t matter.  Which means that when you look at the “placing” of each season on the Yahoo site itself, it’s bogus, because it actually counts that 3 vs. 4 game and puts the winner in third place.  From the Commish perspective, there is one winner – the CHAMP, and that’s it.  The Title Game Runner-Up is First Loser as far as I’m concerned and so on down the line.  I’d rather fall back on the seeds after the Champ and “First Loser”, just like the draft and the real NFL.  So if you’ve been considering those consolation games as anything other than something to bolster your “Yahoo Fantasy Profile” ranking, you’re wrong.  They’re junk.

-In the “Franchise Highlights” section, there are several things which make the cut.  Obviously Crown Winners, but here are the rest:  Division Titles;  Number 1 Seed;  Regular Season Scoring Title;  Title Game Appearance; 9-Win Seasons, 10-Win Seasons, and 11-Win Seasons, and then really special achievements, like’s Norm’s holding of the all-time single game scoring record.  So now you know.  I like these a lot for some reason – it’s like a video game trophy room or something.

-As most of you gathered if you’ve looked at your team profiles, Eryn knew about the site’s existence before the rest.  But he was the only one.  I told him about it back in March (or earlier?) and told him I wanted sketches of various things, which you can see on your team pages.  The sketches are really just ideas and starter sketches for the most part.  Like the site itself, which is in its infancy and bound to grow.  We just wanted to get some stuff up before the start of this season.  So I’m sure you’ll see those images detailed and colored, etc, over time.  Correct me if I’m wrong E.

-If for some reason the font looks odd on the site, it’s because I used a font called “Welltron Urban” which I thought just looked cool, even after multiple warnings that the font wasn’t supported on all computers, or something.  So if anything looks weird, or there are capital letters where there shouldn’t be (like on the link bars), etc.  that’s the problem.  Hopefully you can see the font.  Because again, it’s cool.

OK, that’s enough for now.  Soak it in, and enjoy.  Most importantly, MLOM is back!  Is it only 4 weeks until football season?



It is time to take up arms once again.

Bending low, the Canuck dips his battered hockey mask into the cool water, cleaning it.  He is standing knee deep in the lake.  He is pleased.  The last of the wounds have healed, the scars firmed and settled, a part of him now, forever.  These wounds have been worth it, he notes, as he slides a finger along the ridge of his newest crown.   VERY worth it.  He smiles deep.  The fight was good.  The victory was better.  He pauses.  It must be time again, but so soon?  Who can tell?  They call him crazy, don’t they?  He smiles again.  Because he know’s that it’s true.

Far out on the lake, out in the haze, on a small boat, floats the mastermind behind Los Pescaderos.  He’s resetting his hooks and respooling his lines, his mind flickering back to visions of the crown he almost had.  So close – that damn Canuck.  He’ll pay for this.  It was the fight of his life.  Did the line snap?  Did the hook snag?  The harpoon fail?  He doesn’t even remember anymore.  No matter, he thinks.  The Crown will return to its rightful owner soon enough – of that the fisherman is certain.  He tests his rod.  The line is strong.  His hooks are sharp, his fins rested.  He launches into the lake, testing the waters.  So clean and fresh.  Not for long, he thinks, darting effortlessly through the shallows.  He grins, for he knows that soon there will be a different smell in these waters.   Blood.

Off the shores of the lake there is a clearing, and beyond that the grassy fields are surrounded by woods.  Stepping out from behind a tree, a stolid warrior dressed all in white straightens his armor.  He checks his shield, and squeezes the hilt of his sword.  It feels good in his hand.  He is clear-minded, and ready.  His eyes burn with purpose.  He is an instrument of the heavens.  Deep down he does not understand why the ultimate prize has eluded him so long – nor does he care.  He has been repurified.  He defends the truth.  These wrabble he tangles with are putrid of soul, and not worthy of the prize they consistently battle for.  But not him.  He is above them.  And he will prove it – once and for all.  He steps out, drawing his sword.

In a runoff ditch near a stream emerging from the lake, a sharp-toothed monster starts to shimmy up a waste pipe and onto the bank.  His eyes gleam, his tail, ragged, whips back and forth.  He sniffs the air.  It is time.  He pauses a moment, thinking of his enemies.  How dare they always discount him!  Did he not show them, once, the error of underestimating him, and his legions?  He lets the fury power him.  Lifting his snout, he chitters.  Behind him, there is a subtle rustling.  After a time it grows.  A rat appears, then another.  Then a group, then a hundred, each squealing and snarling.  The run forth past him, into the clearing.  The snarling Rat Master licks his chops as they run past.  When the last of the great horde has pushed forth, he joins them, eyes agleam, with his mind on only one thing – vengeance.  They will not discount him again.

Elsewhere in the woods the master of crack doses himself.  Enough of these lows, he thinks.  Bring me a high dammit!  Bring me a high to shatter this place like times before, he thinks.  His mind drifts, memories of crown ownership, of being on top, surface.  They please him.  The time for being less than zero is past.  He looks at his supply.  Good stuff this year.  Strong.  He feels the initial surges.  His eyes widen, the capillaries within them bursting.  Veins on his head fill up with blood.  He begins to twitch, then shake, nearly seizing with energy.  He lurches back, and roars.  He is ready for battle.  He steadies himself, and breathes deep.  He steps out of the woods.  He eyes his quarry – the whole lot of them.  He is super-human now.  He charges.

HIgh above the rest, the mighty Birdman perches on a branch extending over the woods.  So sad, he thinks, looking disdainfully at the others below.  What limited mobility.  What pathetic two-dimensional movement.  He smiles ruefully.  He spreads his wings, testing his strength.  He feels good, recovered, strong.  He should have no problems this year.  How could he?  He owns the skies, afterall.  He pauses a moment, enjoying the cool breeze on his beak.  He clenches and unclenches his thick talons, readying himself.  A final pause, and then he launches.  Up first, always up, then over and down.  He lets out his cry.  Let them run, he thinks.  Let them scramble.  He sees them all with sharp and deadly eyes.  There will be no escape.

Back on the ground stands the Head of the Gang.  Head still, his brow furrows, his eyes move side to side, surveying the scene.  Look at them, hiding in trees, skulking in lakes, nesting up high.  Ridiculous.  He needs none of it.  He summons his warriors forth.  Let’s show them how it’s done the old-fashioned way, he thinks.  Enough of this pussy-footing around.  He leans back, and bellows a deep and gregarious laugh.   Why shouldn’t he have a little fun while he toys with the these children?  Then with a snap of his fingers he waves his men up.  They move forward, brandishing their chains.  Indeed, the real fun is about to start.

Off a ways, a puff of smoke rises up from behind some brush at the edge of the forest.  After the deep exhalation, the BongMaster smiles, and smiles deep.  He is putting his game face on.  Was it this goofy smile?  Or that jolly grin?  Ah, that’s the one.  He settles his face in the pose – his favorite guise.  They think he is jolly and happy-go-lucky.  Nothing could be further from the truth.   He lifts his right hand.  Dangling there, attached on a rope, are nine skulls, his newest playthings.  He has learned some different tricks this time around.  Powerful tricks.  Ah yes, he cannot wait to see the look on his enemies’ faces when he unveils them.  He cannot wait to see the pain on their faces.  As for his face?  No surprise there – he knows he’ll be smiling.

Lurking farther down the drainage ditch, where it first meets the river, stands a formidable figure.  Part fish, part warrior of filth, he is resolute and ready.  But he hesitates for a moment.  Once again he cannot figure out for the life of him how he has not obtained the prize thusfar.  Is he not strong?  Does he not have some of the strongest attacks around?  He knows he does.   They all know he does.  He curses his luck, lifting his hazard mask only briefly to spit.  They cannot withstand his onslaught forever.  He knows this.  He is reassured by this.  He stands tall, as the river’s bilge floats by.  He draws strength from it.  It is time.  He inhales deep, summons his will, and renews his attack.

In a small clearing just inside the intial cover of trees, Fwats X goes through another kata.  Winded, and sweaty, he knows he cannot be prepared enough.  A swift punch, then a follow up backfist, then a roundhouse, each one clear, crisp – and deadly.  He gathers himself.  He might have been a scientist once, always looking for answers with more and more research, until something inside him snapped.  Now, he doesn’t look for answers – only blood on his way to seek The Crown.  He might have had some forgiveness in his heart once, long ago.  But not anymore.  Nothing will stop him in his quest for the prize.  He will not stop, he will not pause, he will not falter, and he sure as hell won’t EVER cut an opponent a break.  No way sensei.  Those days are over.  He strides briskly through the woods and into the clearing with only one thought on his mind.  No Mercy.

Back on the shores, the Cancuk readjusts his mask.  It must be time then, he thinks.  Perfect.  He is good at waiting – the best even – but even he is tired of delays.  They think they can have it?  Do they think he does not know they are coming for him?  Nonsense.  He pats the crown, and smiles.   It is past time once again.  Let them come.

Are you ready for some football?


Web Site

Been working on the web site all weekend.  Almost set to go with the launch.  Need to do a lot of font fine-tuning, linking, and other tedious junk.   So close though.   As is football season.