vs MIA 2024-11-11

Mathew Stanford shitting the bed

Stanford*

@ianlawsonn he’s cooked

I literally just need two points. Please don’t get kicked out of the game again.

Bruh just give me 15

Like plz

Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all.

Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all.

Uhhhhhhhhh

Same fuckin bullshit as last week

Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all. Post-Election Blues and Fantasy Dreams The ballots are counted, the race is all done, And yet here I sit, feeling overrun. Hope and dread mingled, I wrestle and stew— What now for us all? Where do we go through? But in comes a comfort, a small spark of light, A place I escape to each Sunday night. Fantasy football, my gridiron dream, Brings back a glimmer, a weekly routine. I draft, trade, and plan, setting my sights, With my roster lined up like heroes in tights. Touchdowns and tackles, a hopeful refrain, Lift me above the world’s heavy refrain. For a moment, I’m free of the daily grind, Lost in a league that’s entirely mine. In the field of my choosing, my spirit stands tall— An escape and reminder: there’s hope after all.

Dude stfu lol

gosh you suck

please don’t get ejaculated again

gimme 20 pls

Pls just get at least 25 🙏🙏

All i need is 13 please pookie nacua 🥺🙏🙏

please just gimme 87

If he gets 60 points he isnt puka, he is pookie

All I need

BENCH THIS BUM!!

Why is he blocking

wtf