vs MIA 2024-11-11

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.

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

This fucking guy

Throw him the fucking ball!

“Puca Nacua” (Verse 1) There’s a fire in the field, a flash in the night, Puca Nacua’s in the zone, holdin’ on tight, With hands like steel and a heart so bold, Every time he runs, the story unfolds. From his first snap to the final play, He’s a fighter on the turf, won’t fade away, Lightning on his feet, moves smooth as silk, Leaving the defense grasping air like milk. (Chorus) Puca Nacua, the crowd’s callin’ your name, You’re takin’ every yard, never playin’ the same, Breakin’ through the line, dancin’ past the pack, A flash on the field, ain’t no lookin’ back. (Verse 2) He’s got vision like a hawk, power like a train, Turns a short route into a runaway lane, In the end zone, he’s the one you’ll see, Bringing that fire, makin’ history. Coaches say he’s got a mind of steel, With the kind of will you can’t help but feel, He ain’t just playin’ — he’s carving his name, In the record books and the heart of the game. (Chorus) Puca Nacua, the crowd’s callin’ your name, You’re takin’ every yard, never playin’ the same, Breakin’ through the line, dancin’ past the pack, A flash on the field, ain’t no lookin’ back. (Bridge) Oh, when the game’s on the line, He’s right there, toein’ that line, Fearless, strong, every snap, every play, Puca Nacua lights up the day. (Chorus) Puca Nacua, the crowd’s callin’ your name, You’re takin’ every yard, never playin’ the same, Breakin’ through the line, dancin’ past the pack, A flash on the field, ain’t no lookin’ back. (Outro) From the roar of the crowd to the victory roar, He’s a legend, a fighter, forevermore. Puca Nacua, the name rings loud and true, On the field of green, he’s comin’ through.

My little blocker

just don’t do as bad as last week

Stafford throw the fucking ball to him buddy is getting senile out there