Fear of female

Here's a spittake moment of cowardice for you this morning... according to Seattle coach and marine mammal Mike Holmgren, his daughter Calla was recently booted from her fantasy football league for having "inside information." (I'd link you to the Lemur, but it's all of a three paragraph AP story, and AP Hates Bloggers, so screw 'em both.)

Now, I've been in a lot of fantasy leagues; I even commish three of them. And you know what you do with people who have "inside information"? You take their money and try not to laugh. Because "inside information" usually means "wrong information"... or, at the very least, information that tends to be wildly exaggerated in its importance.

What, exactly, was Ms. Holmgren alleged to have known that gave her team the edge? That Shawn Alexander was more worked over than gum that's been left on the bed post over night? That Matt Hasselbeck was going to have a bounce-back year because his line was better and his schedule was worse? Or that the Seahawks can only show up at home? Gosh, I knew all of that stuff, and I didn't even win either of my leagues last year. Calla must be playing with utter idiots.

Let's call a spade a spade here, because that is what we do: Calla's league mates are scared of losing to a, you know, GURL. The Internets tell me this would be called Eurotophobia, or fear of female genitalia (booga booga!), which is a fine word for us all to remember, especially now that the college football season is starting up again, and the blog's readership is rapidly approaching the Stalker Townie demographic...

But for heaven's sake, you Calla-tossing morons, if you can't beat someone who has half of her DNA given to her by a guy who could only get one Super Bowl win out of a prime era Brett Favre and Reggie White, you're probably too stupid to be reading this, anyway. All of the inside information in the world about DJ Hackett's injury status (this just in -- he's hurt!) shouldn't really, you know, sway a league.

No, if you want True Fear of Fantasy Football Cuckoldom, you can roll down my predicament. Yes, the Shooter Mom is now in my league, which either means I get to be the Bad Son and beat her, or get taken to the woodshed for old times' sake. Either way, I'm pretty sure the trash talk will be impressive. (Hi, Mom!)