My youngest brother has fallen on tough times. He lives in a Crown Vic and can be found on Euclid between I-90 and MLK. Joe's a hand lotion salesmen with harry knuckles. It's a hard life, but he loves his work.
Last year, he picked up a roommate (or carmate (?)). Joe gets the front seat and AJ the back. It is hard for me to imagine. I have a hard time sharing my row at a ballgame. Seriously, you are going to the bathroom with a full count?
But despite his obscene fingers, Joe has always had a kind soul. And Joe's friendship with AJ won me my fantasy league last year. What AJ lacks in personal hygiene he makes up tenfold in fantasy baseball advice.
AJ's advice from last year:
"Get Ortiz and Jeter late. Ride their mad points until they get hurt. Then cut bait."
"Trout. Trout. Good fishy. Good fishy."
"Kimbrel is an elite closer. Treat him as such."
"I see a ten thousand demons dancing in your eyes."
Not all of AJ's advice is useful. But much is fantasy gold. Here's AJ's advice for the coming year.
"Utley is last year's Ortiz."
"Trout leftovers aren't as good, but still pretty damn good."
"We have never seen a confident Lonnie Chisenhall. Look for him late."
"Matt Holliday is available at your cut rate travel agent."
"Ain't no one that can bring middle round value like me, way over yonder in the Mike Minor key."
"Ants are crawling beneath my skin."
Now, AJ is literally barking at me. If it turns out to have fantasy baseball value, I will report back.