I am more locked in than ever before.

- Me, about a month ago

These are the words of a foolish man. How stupid could I be to think I could just waltz in this year and pick up right where I left off? We are only on week 4 and I've had to navigate a minefield of blasphemy and bullshit. I'm stepping on every single switch. My limbs are long gone. All that remains is the downtrodden shell of a once-great man.

Last week, I was given a brief, cruel glimpse of hope–the greener grass on the other side. A thrilling look at what life could be like in the coming weeks. A 160+ point game. It would have netted me a win against literally anyone else in the league... except her. She-who-shall-not-be-named. Voldemort himself would take a look at her team's performance and shudder before profusely apologizing to Harry.

Dark clouds appeared over me as I stared at my Sleeper app on Tuesday morning. Was this it for me? Is this season a wash? Did I just build this entire website only to appear at the bottom of my own leaderboards? Was it all for naught?

Then I opened the ESPN app. Oh yeah, I forgot that I'm the fucking man.

You see, this year is the first year that I am playing in another league. We've started a league through ESPN with Emily's siblings, cousins, and some of their spouses and SOs. We're calling it "Romantasy Football", due to the fact that all pot winnings at the end of the season MUST be spent on a romantic date night out. It's a lovely concept. I, for one, cannot wait to treat my beautiful wife to an elegant dinner. Because I'm simply killing it, dude.

This league consists of exactly three people that have played fantasy football before, including myself. Everyone else is brand new. For once, I am not the new kid on the block. I am not the chump that agrees to trade Keenan Allen for Zach Ertz. I am the one with experience. I am the one with wisdom. I am currently undefeated. I am the I am.

I am him.

Things look to continue going my way this week as I battle my poor wife. She is dealing with multiple player injuries and sub-par bench alternates. I remain healthy as a horse and ready to trod my way to victory. I smell a 4-0 record in my future. This is what glory feels like, ladies and gentlemen. And I'm fucking loving it.

Moral of the story–when one league is obviously corrupt and rigged, simply make a new one with a number of folks who either don't know what they're doing or don't really care. Your path to victory shall be clear, and the skies above will shower you with riches beyond your wildest imaginations.