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I hate my [expletive deleted] fantasy team: The fantasy hockey poison of Marian Gaborik and Cristobal Huet

(Ed. Note: "I Hate My [expletive deleted] Fantasy Team!" is a weekly feature on Puck Daddy in which we vicariously live through two Yahoo! Fantasy Hockey GMs as they provide snarky advice and tales of woe. This week's author is The Rev. Zamboni from The Palm Isle. Enjoy.)

By The Rev. Zamboni

I know Ken Holland reads Puck Daddy, because I've caught him commenting on these fantasy hockey posts under various pseudonyms. And I know we share a love of Binghamton, but I need to make one thing clear, Ken: I don't play fantasy hockey to win.

I play for fun, much like I play ball hockey at the community college and in the driveway with my three-year-old. I play so I can insult the ethnic heritage of the Rangers fan in our league and enjoy the ever-changing stable of team names, this week's highlight being "Ass Bonanza." I conducted the first three rounds of this year's draft from my car, with sugared-up kids screaming and my wife wondering why I suddenly had morphed into Denis Leary.

And I play so I can toy, very seriously, with the idea of picking up Milan Lucic and asking him to fight Marian Gaborik in the imaginary practice of my mind, largely because I've been listening to Warren Zevon's "Hit Somebody!" all day and watching hockey fights on YouTube. I'm about two weeks from waiver-wiring a team full of goons and taking on all challengers, including Jean Guy Drouin and The Avery Rule.

So yeah, things are pretty bad with the Bad Habitants (5-10-1).

Gaborik, my second-round pick, is hurt. You knew that. You knew that, Ken, before the season even started. I guess I did too, but I was dodging an elastic rubber light-up yo-yo ball, driving down the highway and talking to someone in California, to whom I'd just revealed my treasured password, while I made the pick.

So, he's not working out.

Neither is Cristobal Huet, which I also should have anticipated. Nikolai Khabibulin has hated me for four years, going as far in the past two to tank on crucial nights to mess with my head. I imagine him this year, sitting up all night on the floor of Huet's hotel room, playing Super Mario Kart and ordering meatball subs and hookers.

[Expletive Deleted].

I'm not giving up hope. Right now the league is led by a guy we used to call "Pizza Shoes," a Whalers fan who still wears an Ulf Sameulsson Whale jersey and would designate Ron Francis his keeper if he could.

And Godard, Dorsett, Prust, and soon-to-be fight champ/Isles cult hero in the making Mitch Fritz! (Clap! Clap!) Mitch Fritz! still are available.

This could be a fun season, whatever the result.

We've got a whole new attitude.

The Rev. Zamboni blogs on The Palm Isle. Join us next Thursday for more.