Double Dipping

The dog days of summer have barrelled into the baseball season with the force of a Prince Fielder home plate collision.

As the sun hangs higher and the nights grow shorter, July brings two things with it: squelching, suffocating, ungodly heat...and the truth.

The heat is one thing.

Those poor millionaires play in thick wool uniforms. To even wear those things for three hours in the Cincinnati night---let alone in the Texas sunshine---is punishment at its cruelest.

The heat is bad...but the truth can be so much worse.

Eventually, the heat will subside. August will slide briskly into September. Leaves will change, and parkas will become the norm.

But the truth and it's cold, indifferent apathy is constant.

And the truth that has been revealed about our team stings worse than any sunburn.

The truth, I’m afraid, is that the Darling Asteroids suck.

Last week’s 10-1 victory over Joba Rules, our first win in eight weeks, catapulted the Darlings from tenth place all the way to ninth place.

Matt Kemp is hitting .266.

Felix Hernandez has six measley wins.

And only three of our players (Evan Longoria, Vlad Guerrero and Hanley Ramirez) made the All-Star team.

So while those three jet to L.A. in a few days to pretend that the All-Star game somehow matters, the rest of the roster sits at home embarrassed, confused and ashamed.

If the Darlings were a real team, we could swing trades, dump veterans and build toward a brighter future.

But the Darling Asteroids are not a real team.

We’re more like Old Yeller...and Pa’s cleaning his rifle, soon to be taking that long walk behind the shed.

So you might be asking yourself, “Why isn’t Jacob more upset about all this?”

That’s an excellent question. You’re so smart. I always liked you.

The reason, friend, is that I have a dirty little secret I’d like to share with you. Come a little closer. If Pablo Sandoval hears me, he’ll be heartbroken.

Here it is:

I have another fantasy team.

"Did he say we're getting ice cream?!"

My other team is called The Fellowship, named for it’s nine warriors bravely uniting behind a common, noble goal...and also for its GM’s hobbit-like appearance.

Anchored by Captain America Josh Hamilton and homerun machine Ryan Howard, The Fellowship sits in fourth place in an 11-team rotisserie league.

Now, I’m not saying that managing The Fellowship makes me appreciate the Darlings any less. I love them both, in the same way parents claim to love their children equally.

(Side note: Cut the nonsense, Mom. Court’s your favorite. You’re not fooling anyone)

But the Fellowship is in the top tier of their league, has six All-Stars, and Ryan Howard’s eventual second half surge promises to yield championship dividends.

Most importantly, having two fantasy teams opens up the “In My Other League” phenomenon, which is one of my favorite aspects of fantasy sports.

Basically, if I’m King of the Fake Sports Mountain in one league, I’m a bottom-feeding lottery team...in my other league.

If Jorge Cantu has a big week for the Fellowship, he’s probably killing me as a member of this week’s opponent...in my other league.

Best of all, if you have at least one friend who has two fantasy teams, every single Baseball Tonight highlight elicits joy from someone.

Bro #1: “Oh, yeah! Jose Reyes scored two runs and stole two bases!”
Bro #2: “Dude, Billy Bob has Jose Reyes, not you.”
Bro #1: “I have him in my other league.”

It never fails. When one team is up, the other will be down.

Owning two fantasy teams means straddling dimensions, caught between the real and Bizarro worlds where things are always backwards and nothing is as it seems.

Of course, the prospect of owning players on both teams, while enticing, is extremely dicey. When the flourish, you’re the man.

When they flounder, it’s a double whammy.

Both Jon Rauch and Everyone’s Favorite Man occupy roster spots on both my teams.

Wins and saves double my pleasure and double my fun, but crooked numbers leave an extra sour taste in my mouth.

And only the most vigilant of GMs can juggle two separate lineups, and it requires an intense amount of dedication...dedication which could be put to use elsewhere, say, I don't know...a social life?

Trust me, the confusion that results from forgetting who’s on what team, who’s on the DL and what pitchers are throwing today rivals some zany plot from a “Boy Meets World” episode.

Your attempt to acquire Topanga has been rejected.

The best part of this phenomenon is it has few real-world parallels.

No one ever says, “It’s fine that Spot ran into on-coming traffic. I have another dog...in my other family.”

Just know, Darlings, that it’s nothing personal. I had the choice of chronicling either team at the season’s outset, and like my favorite Pokemon, I chose you.

The Fellowship isn’t a backup, isn’t a rebound team, isn’t a late night fantasy booty call waiting to happen.

You will always be my number one, fellas.

So, to recap: I have two fantasy teams, one blog writing about said teams...and zero girlfriends.

There are no such things as coincidences.