vs GB 2024-12-15

chat

Oh nah I’m cooked

Fr just need 15 plus like that’s all

20 plus would be great

Where did you go :(

He’ll be back 🙏

Yall chill! He finna put up 40 minimum.

so happy i traded away this BUM 😂😂

Bang

Pass this clown the ball.

traded away drake london and jsn for j jettas and devante adams and it’s going great so far 😂🤣

wtf I say!!!

Patience young mothafuckas!!

Was just thinking about you pook

Luv u

Next time make a TD pls 🫡

my opponent has him am i cooked.

7 more points to win and still got draaaaaake

i’m at the game he just got carted off

Cap

sorry guys

Need 20. Played against James cook, Amon ra and Josh Allen 😢

Oh Jaxon, bearer of my fleeting hopes, Tonight, thou art not merely a mortal man, But a titan upon whose shoulders my dreams rest. The scoreboard looms, a cruel mountain of numbers, And I, a humble climber, cling to thee, my Sherpa, To guide me upward, past the chasm of despair. Seventy points, a gap vast as the night sky, A cruel canyon carved by my rivals' merciless stars. Yet I, steadfast in faith, turn to thee, Jaxon, swift-footed bard of the gridiron. For in thy hands lies redemption, in thy legs, salvation, And in thy heart, the fire to forge a legend anew. Did not the college fields once tremble 'neath thy feet? Did not defenses falter, like brittle leaves in autumn winds, When thou didst weave thy magic across the land? Oh, Jaxon, where is that spirit now? Unleash it, unbind it, let it roar like a lion That my fantasy kingdom may be restored! Tonight, each route thou runneth is a sonnet in motion, Each catch, a hymn to the gods of victory. Let thy hands be sure, thy steps electric, Thy eyes fixed upon glory's shimmering crown. Do not falter, do not tire, for the hour is late, And the league's cruel gods do not favor the weak. Oh, quarterback, fling the ball with a poet's precision! Oh, offensive line, hold steadfast as ancient oaks! Let Jaxon soar unimpeded, let him dance Through the secondary like a comet through the heavens. Let touchdowns rain like manna from the sky, And yards accumulate like sand on an endless shore. I beseech thee, Jaxon, hero of my desperate plight, For thou art more than a name on a roster, More than a line in a box score. Thou art my hope, my champion, my knight in cleats. Deliver me from this pit of sorrow, And carry me to the promised land of victory. And should the fates prove kind, Should thy name light up the scoreboard as the dawn, Then I shall sing thy praises to the heavens, A hymn for the ages, an ode to thy greatness. But should the night fall without thy glory, Know this, oh Jaxon: my faith shall not waver. For even in loss, thy effort is hallowed, And I, thy humble manager, Shall remember this night as a testament To the fleeting beauty of sport, of hope, Of daring to believe in miracles. So rise, Jaxon, rise! And let this be the night where legends are made, Where fantasy turns to reality, And a dreamer finds his dream fulfilled.