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Fantasy Face-off: Tadic + Bony VS Any Crap Striker + Fabregas/Sterling/Ozil/Sigurdsson/Di Maria - Who wins?

Right after we completed our draft, I wanted to make a trade. A few reasons for this:

So what was the deal on offer?

I was offering Tadic (in the very unlikely chance that you haven't heard of him, he is Southampton's creative replacement for Adam Lallana) and Bony (Swansea's main man up front). In return, I was willing to take any striker that the trading party didn't want as long as I got a high-end midfielder in return.

As anyone who plays draft style premiership fantasy knows, strikers are a prized commodity. They get snapped up quickly, and with so many teams adopting a one-striker policy, there aren't that many options around. By the time that everyone is picking their third striker, pickings are few and often, you are happy to simply get a striker that gets regular minutes with some sort of chance of scoring.

Fantasy Island

On The Zen of Zoe

The ominous late-summer air along with the crunch of the tell-tale leaves littering the ground signaled it was coming. My chest heaved a heavy sigh knowing that I would not be able to escape its grips. What did I have to offer that could compare with 300 pound men in shoulder pads broadcast in hi-definition? Yes, it is that time of year again, the season of the football widows.

Before marriage, I was familiar with "Monday Night Football." That was a manageable concession I was willing to make. One night a week. Easy. But I've since learned that there are NFL games all day Sunday and on Thursday nights as well. Throw college ball into the mix on Saturdays and the week is completely lost to the testosterone laden frenzy of the gridiron.

Perhaps if I had a favorite team, I would also succumb to the madness and hibernate with my husband in the man-cave until the spring thaw. I married into a Patriots family, so they are my adopted team and I actually do root for them. But its more of an after the fact curiosity cheer - 'hey, did our team win?' I can usually tell the answer by his demeanor. Hugs and kisses means a victory. Grunts and sighs signal a loss.

Over the years I have learned to live through this annual cycle of widowhood. I feel fortunate to catch glimpses of my husband during random minutes when a game was not being played, or being reviewed, or being commented upon with predictions for the next game. But in recent years a new type of football has crept into our lives and stolen away even those rare precious minutes when I saw my husband during the fall and winter months: Fantasy Football. (shudder).

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