Part I: The Psychological Blitz

There’s a fine line between inappropriate and inspired, and it usually involves alcohol.

Take the time I showed up to a Celebration of Life — an event where people wear dark suits, speak softly, and quietly stir the sadness soup — wearing a faded Metallica “Ride the Lightning” tee and carrying a rack of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Not even the 12-pack. The rack. The look on people’s faces could have curdled milk. Somewhere in the room, an old man’s monocle fell into his clam chowder. And yet, by the end of the night, I had a hot girl’s number in my phone and a vague recollection of being invited to an afterparty in a converted barn.

Relax. The dead guy wasn’t invited (and already buried).

So yes — sometimes, shocking the room works. And in fantasy football, it can work before the first player is even drafted.

Win Before You Play

This first tip isn’t about sleepers, or ADP values, or knowing which backup running back might steal goal-line carries from your first round pick. No. This is about walking into the room and owning it so completely that your opponents’ mental game collapses like a sandcastle at high tide.
How?
You show up to your fantasy draft dressed like James Bond.
I’m not talking about *“Hey, I put on a nice button-down”* Bond. I mean **full tuxedo**. Black tie. Pressed lapels sharp enough to slice prosciutto. You’re carrying a bottle of top-shelf vodka that costs more than some of your league-mates’ car insurance premiums. And — this is important — you bring your own martini shaker.

Everyone else will stroll in wearing cargo shorts, a mustard-stained hoodie, and the emotional stability of a junior varsity punter. They’ll slap a 12’er of Miller High Life on the table like they’re playing in some dimly lit rec league of life. Meanwhile, you’re measuring vermouth like a surgeon, shaking cocktails in perfect rhythm, and speaking in a barely perceptible British accent that makes people lean in to catch every word.

Your presence alone will short-circuit their brain chemistry.

That guy who spent the last two weeks running 400 mock drafts? Gone. He’s now Googling “how to fold a pocket square” instead of checking bye weeks.
The reigning champ with the color-coded spreadsheet? He’s sweating into his Truly like a longshoreman because you just asked him how his tailor is doing.
The league loudmouth? He’s two sips into one of your specially crafted martinis and mumbling about “maybe going QB in the first round” while making prolonged eye contact with the olive jar.

They won’t just be distracted — they’ll be destabilized. Your tuxedo isn’t just fabric; it’s psychological warfare. Every draft pick they make after you pour their second drink is influenced by the fact that they’re losing a battle they didn’t know they were in.

You, meanwhile, are calm. Controlled. The guy in the movies who knows the villain’s safe combination before the heist even starts. You’re playing chess while they’re trying to remember if Geno Smith plays in the NFC or AFC.

Why It Works

Fantasy football is 50% player analysis, 50% mind games. People forget that. If you rattle your opponents before the draft starts, every decision they make is tainted by the tiny voice in their head saying, “Why is he in a tux? Did he just order caviar from DoorDash?”

When they panic, they reach. When they reach, you pounce. When you pounce, you win. You’ll still need to know who’s who… but let’s worry about those details in the next four installments of this series.

And when the champagne cork pops in December, you’ll trace your championship back to this very moment: standing in front of a bunch of half-drunk schlubs, swirling a martini like you own Monaco.

Part II: Running Backs — Ignoring the Shiny Objects

There are things in life that get better with age. Scotch. Wine. To be honest, most forms of alcohol. Certain blues guitarists whose voices sound like a well-worn leather belt. — they all tend to improve after a few years in the dark, growing mysterious in the bottle.

Then there’s the NFL running back, a creature whose shelf life is closer to unrefrigerated sushi in a Las Vegas parking lot. By 26, they’re feeling it in the knees. By 28, they’re lucky to still be on a roster. And by 30, they’re either in a studio doing bad local radio or uploading “Day in the Life” workout videos that nobody watches past the 47-second mark.

The Rookie Mirage

Fantasy managers know this harsh truth — and then, like a man who’s been burned once in love and immediately proposes to the first stranger who laughs at his joke, they overcorrect. They reach for rookie running backs whose hype far exceeds their eventual production, drafting them multiple rounds before common sense says they should.

Yes, if you have a shot at Ashton Jeanty or Omarion Hampton, they’re worth grabbing in the first couple of rounds. Those guys might be the real deal. But beyond those two? You’re playing slot machines with your RB2 spot, and the house always wins.

Complicating matters is the fact that true workhorse, bellcow running backs are in shorter supply than a clean bathroom at a music festival. So people panic. They start burning picks in Rounds 3–6 on rookies when, sitting right there in plain view, are wide receivers who will absolutely outscore them in points per game.

The Oldies but Goodies Play

This is where the patient drafter cashes in. The guy who lets everyone else froth up his boxer briefs over Treyveon Henderson’s “explosiveness” while quietly making a note to draft **Aaron Jones** in the 9th. Yes — *ninth*. Or **Tony Pollard** sitting in the same neighborhood. **Austin Ekeler** in the *12th* round.
Are these guys as sexy as the 24-year-old in the black dress with the neckline so deep it could have its own philosophy blog? No. But like the early-forties divorcee in the corner, sipping an Old Fashioned, sequined tank top catching the light just so, and offering a *come hither* smile — you *know what you’re going to get*. And that’s a hell of a lot more than you can say for **RJ Harvey**, **Kaleb Johnson**, or most rookies not named Jeanty or Hampton.
At least the divorcee’s going to show up on time and order something off the menu. The rookie? Might not even get invited to dinner.

The ‘If Only’ Guys

The same goes for those “massive upside” backs if they would “only get a chance.” I have massive upside too if Sydney Sweeney would only give me a chance. Sure, spend a mid round pick on Jordan Mason or Trey Benson, and you might end up with a runway model who has a PhD on your arm, but more likely you’ll end up with an OnlyFans model who is still 27 credits away from her Associate’s Degree. That sounded way more pejorative in my head than it looks on screen, but I’m too lazy to delete it.

Now — and this is important — if these “old guys” are the only running backs on your roster, you’re more screwed than a flat-pack IKEA bookshelf assembled entirely with the wrong-sized Allen wrench. Worried about bridging the gap? In half of my mock drafts so far, Chuba Hubbard — who had a phenomenal year on a miserable Carolina Panthers team, and now returns with an improved cast around him — has been available in the fifth round. Alvin Kamara, another “old” guy whose age isn’t held against him nearly as much as some others, has almost always been available in the fourth round.

The point isn’t to ignore rookies entirely — Phil Mafah might very well be starting for the Dallas Cowboys by week six, and he’s not even being drafted — it’s to let the hype-chasers spend their early-middle picks while you scoop up consistent veterans at a discount, while greedily Hungry Hungry Hippo-ing stud WRs, and waltz into October with a floor that could survive a nuclear winter. This way, if Jarquez Hunter turns out to be a monster for you, it’s a nice bonus rather than what you’re counting on.

Part III: Wide Receivers — The New Bloodletting

Back in the 17th century, there was an English king with blood pressure so high it could have boiled tea without a kettle. His physicians — the brightest medical minds of the age — treated him the only way they knew how: blistering his feet and letting the blood run until he looked like he’d just been to war with a cheese grater.

Sounds like medieval torture, right? It was. But it was also considered state-of-the-art medicine.

We laugh now because we’ve moved on. We have better options. We understand the human body, and we no longer think, “Hey, maybe if I stab the king’s feet and drain him like a keg, his headaches will go away.”

Why do I bring this up? Because for decades, the state-of-the-art in fantasy football was load up on running backs and patch the rest together later. That was the “bloodletting” of the fantasy world. It made sense at the time — but times change, and clinging to that strategy in 2025 is like insisting your surgeon use leeches because “that’s how Grandpa did it.”

The WR Revolution

Most leagues now are PPR. Most NFL offenses have pivoted toward passing as if the football is an IOU they need to get rid of before the cops show up. Wide receivers — with a few notable RB exceptions — are the ones putting up the gaudiest fantasy numbers.

There’s a strong, borderline-inebriated argument for spending your first four picks on receivers.

By Round 4, you can still grab Mike Evans, Zay Flowers, Garrett Wilson — guys who can average 15+ PPR points a game without breaking a sweat. Which RB in that same draft slot is going to give you that return? The answer: none that don’t require prayer candles and an exorcism.

Furthermore — a word I have always wanted to use while dramatically gesturing — a bunch of teams have very capable Hutches to their Starsky — guys who may be WR2 on the depth chart, but are absolutely capable of putting up WR1 numbers on a weekly basis. Tee Higgins. Davante Adams. Jameson Williams. The depth is simply astounding. You might ask, “Doesn’t this mean I can wait on receivers since quality guys will be available in the middle rounds?” And to that I say, “shut up, I’m talking here.”

But What About the Stud Backs?

Look, I’m not telling you to ignore Bijan Robinson or Jahmyr Gibbs if they somehow fall past pick 5. That’s like passing on a free bottle of 18-year-old Macallan because you’re “not in the mood for scotch.”

If you do land one of them, you can still go “hero RB” — take that one alpha back, then spend your next four picks on receivers who will make your opponents’ starting lineups look like they were assembled during a fire drill.

Every player has a value range, and if you’re passing on guys who have dropped a round or more beyond where they should reasonably be picked, you’re taking advice too literally. Derrick Henry somehow still available in the middle of the third round? Fine! Grab him! He’s your hero. The other four of your first five picks are receivers. Still following? Good, now disregard that point for the next section.

The QB Trap

This is where most drafters self-destruct. They’re off to a decent start with their first few picks, but being 17 High Lifes and 7 slices of pepperoni and jalapeno pizza deep, they lose it. They see Josh Allen or Jalen Hurts in Round 4. Their pupils dilate. Their breathing changes. Suddenly they’re telling themselves, “If I don’t take him now, he’ll be gone.”

Of course he’ll be gone. That’s the point. You can grab a QB later — we’ll cover exactly why in Part IV — but for now, tattoo this on your martini shaker: Receivers, receivers, and then more receivers.

Even Late, the Pool is Deep

It’s getting late. It’s gone well so far. Your date has gone pretty well. Fueled by four cosmopolitans, she finds your humor “quirkily cute.” Your thriftstore fashion “sensibly sophisticated.” Your 1987 Nissan Sentra “practical and efficient.” Finish strong and the world is at your feet. You have a thoroughbred stable of receivers on your roster. Your focus is waning as your confidence soars. Three kickers are off the board already and guys are googling which defenses have the easiest strength of schedule.

STAY THE COURSE. Even in the late rounds, you can still find guys who can crack your lineup on any given Sunday. Ricky Pearsall will be sitting there while your opponents debate whether their fourth-string RB’s “pass-catching upside” is worth dropping their backup kicker for. Jakobi Meyers is one of the most confusing players on the entire board. His production track record screams 80+ catches and 1,000 receiving yards, but his availabillity lingers. What shouldn’t be confusing is that if he’s somehow still available in round 8, he’s your WR5. Adam Thielen, who is amazingly still alive, and even more amazingly still productive, isn’t even being picked in some mocks. That’s absurd.

Reminder, you’re not just drafting your team. You’re eviscerating your fellow drafters. You’re seeing what they don’t. Maybe they’re distracted because you’re still in your tuxedo, shaking martinis like the world’s most dapper Bond villain. Maybe they’re just stuck in that old-school, RB-first brain fog. Either way, you’re stacking WR depth like it’s champagne bottles at a Monaco afterparty, and you’re not stopping… like it’s a Monaco afterparty. Hey, if the anaolgy works, keep using it.

Part IV: Quarterbacks — Just Wait. And Keep Waiting.

*“Oh, tell me more about how hard your day was.”*

Todd and I both picked up part-time jobs senior year of high school. This is nearly three decades ago, so forgive the fuzziness around the edges — like an old VHS tape that’s been dubbed one too many times. Todd got himself a gig at a pet store in the mall. I picked up work giving tennis lessons for the local park and rec center.
On paper, mine sounded cooler. Varsity tennis player teaching the next generation? Sure. Except the training program was basically some guy who looked like a janitor making me hold up a racket like it was a driver’s license photo. Meanwhile, Todd was working at the *pet store*. And let me tell you — in the mid-90s, pet stores were **hot chick magnets**. A group of girls walks in, Todd strolls over with a bunny in his arms, fast forward ten years, they’re researching preschools together.

Me? I was stuck corralling snot-nosed kids and stay-at-home moms surgically clinging to their twenties. Looking back, it wasn’t the worst gig, but at the time I was jealous and couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

The one thing majorly in my favor? The pay. Minimum wage back then was $4.25. My tennis hustle? $14 an hour. Twelve hours a week at 17 years old — that’s basically Scrooge McDuck money. Still, I felt compelled to bitch.

I’d had a brutal shift on the courts. The kids were bratty and not listening, housewives distracted by the beefcake on the next court. Saturated with late teens angst and insecurity, it was a lot to deal with that day. My big mistake? I vented to Todd. His reply:

“Today, one of our husky puppies ate something it shouldn’t. Got sick. Diarrhea everywhere. Then it rolled in it. Covered head to paw. I had to clean it. Did I mention it was a white husky? I make minimum wage. Go do unspeakable things to yourself.”

The Sort of Seamless Transition to Talking About QBs

What does that story have to do with fantasy football? Nothing. I just felt the world needed to know about it. Try as I might, I can’t come up with a clever way to analogize a shit-covered puppy and drafting a quarterback.

Unless… unless we take the puppy… and make it someone’s fantasy roster… drafting a quarterback too early is eating the thing it shouldn’t eat… missing out on picking a flex option is the putrid, runny poo… OH MY GOD I DID IT!!! Anyway, back to the point. For years, fantasy managers have fallen prey to a number of biases. The first one? Recency bias. Remember Cam Newton’s 2015 season? League-winner. The very next year? He was being drafted first overall in a lot of leagues and promptly turned in a season that was fine by most measures, and that you also could have gotten from a quarterback taken ten rounds later. The reason he was a league-winner in ’15 wasn’t just his stats — it was that he wasn’t drafted early. By the time you got him in ‘15 you’d already stocked up on WRs and started building your running back stable.

Fast forward to 2024: the top fantasy QBs were Lamar Jackson, Josh Allen, Jayden Daniels, and Jalen Hurts. No surprise — elite rushing upside, strong passing track records. But in 2025? They’ll all go way earlier than they should. That’s the reach that torpedoes your team. Yes, Lamar will have a week where he scores 48 points and wins you the matchup singlehandedly. But there will also be weeks where Dak Prescott or Jared Goff throws 5 touchdowns, and they were just sitting there in Round 11. Yeah, it’s tempting to get one of the top quarterbacks in the second or third rounds, but you’re doing so at the expense of a top shelf WR, which as we’ve already covered, you need to be stockpiling.

The Expert Trap

Another classic trap: the appeal to expertise logical fallacy. Fantasy “experts” are everywhere now. The outstanding Matthew Berry opened the door, and suddenly every guy who went 6–8 in his office league is churning out clickbait sleepers lists.

Maybe I’m being harsh. Maybe I’m bitter. Okay fine — yes, I’m bitter. But the truth is these guys and gals are making educated guesses. And yet, I guarantee you, some nincompoop in two of my leagues will draft Bo Nix in the fifth round because an article told him Nix is the next big breakout. Really? Nix is a fine young quarterback with a good coach, and might just turn into a star. But in the fifth round? That’s malpractice.

In the last mock draft I did, I took Jalen Waddle in the fifth round. Jalen. Freaking. Waddle.

People are obsessed with stocking their rosters with guys the “experts” are predicting will have big seasons. Friends, drafting a guy three rounds earlier than he should reasonably go because you read an article is not good fantasy business. It’s paying Glenmorangie 21 prices for Dewars quality.

When to Strike

It's a tough question. Fantasy drafts are a little bit like fingerprints. No two are exactly alike and some of them have fecal matter in them if viewed under a microscope. There’s no hard and fast answer to this, but personally, I don’t even begin looking until the 10th round. And that’s mainly to see who might still be there when I pick in the 11th round.

Here’s who was still on the board in the 11th round of my last mock:

Jordan Love
Dak Prescott Don’t laugh. Yes, the Cowboys suck. They also won’t be able to run the ball. They also have CD Lamb.
Justin “Piss Missile” Herbert
Drake Maye Look for a big year from him. Rushing upside plus improved supporting cast equals big time potential.

Guys who went after defenses and kickers started coming off the board:

Tua Tagovailoa The concussion issue is a massive risk but as long as you have one of the other guys we’re chatting about here, the potential payoff is huge, throwing to Tyreek Hill and Waddle.
C.J. Stroud Yes, freaking seriously.
Jared Goff, who could very well throw 40 TDs this season.

Guys who weren’t even drafted:

Sam Darnold Don’t laugh, check last season’s stats.
Matthew Stafford If his back holds up, that Rams offense is primed for positive passing touchdown regression. He’ll be throwing to Puka Nakua AND Davante Adams. Yes, I’m serious.
Caleb Williams. Weapons everywhere and a shiny new offensive coordinator. Color me tempted.

You could feasibly stream QBs the first few weeks and still win your league. Not saying you should, but the depth is that outrageous.

Putting Myself on The Spot

Again, don’t laugh. Here’s a guy who ends up on my roster more often than not. Bryce Young. I said don’t laugh or I’ll slap that smirk off your face. And oh, guess who was a top ten quarterback in PPG for the last part of 2025. Yeah. But I’m also realistic, I know that Young plays on Carolina, and beefed up supporting cast or not, it’s still a shit show there until proven otherwise, so he’s my second qb. Guy’s I’m consistently ending up with as well are Herbert, Maye and Goff. With four WR1s. I’m telling you, this is the way.

Part V: Tight Ends and Swandive Vomit

It’s 2000, my senior year at Cal State Northridge — a campus still half-rebuilt from the ’94 quake, all temporary classrooms and constant construction.
For four years I’d had a massive crush on a girl named Brandy. Four years in the friend zone, all self-inflicted. But graduation was coming, and “never or more never” didn’t sound appealing, so I finally asked her out. She said yes. Then she said, “It’s my friend’s birthday tomorrow — come with me.”
Perfect. She calls the next day, says she’s heading early to help set up, and gives me the address. I show up around eight, spot the birthday girl easily — tank top labeled *Birthday Girl* — and ask where to find Brandy. She points toward an addition off the house.
I walk in and there’s Brandy — enthusiastically attached to some guy’s face. She’s got a hand in his lap for emphasis. Shock. Disbelief. Cigarette time.

I wander out to the patio, find the keg, and start drinking. After who knows how long, a voice asks, “You ok, man?” Towering over me is a giant Armenian metalhead in a trench coat. Six-five, three bills easy, but kind. I tell him my story. He laughs, then says, “Same here.” Turns out he’d asked Brandy out too — same setup, same party, same couch — only he arrived later, when denim was no longer part of the equation.

His name was Jameson, tattooed inside his lip for easy reference. We drank, we bonded, and when he offered weed, I accepted. Beer, bong, heartbreak, no dinner — bad combo.

“Dude, you don’t look so good,” Jameson said, his voice echoing from somewhere far away. I went hunting for a bathroom. The first was occupied by moaning, the second by vomiting. So I sprinted for the patio and, in the most athletic moment of my life, vaulted the wall and vomited midair into the flowerbed.

Applause erupted behind me. Jameson raised a beer in salute. Brandy did not.

I woke up the next morning on the floor of a guy named Evald, who claimed his dad once managed the Toronto Blue Jays. He’d driven me home in my own car, and I remain grateful.

What does this have to do with drafting tight ends? Absolutely nothing. But you needed to hear it anyway.

The State of the Tight End Union

Back to business. Tight ends. Or, as I like to call them, the craft beer of fantasy football: Expensive — and worth it for the right one — but most of them will just contort your face in angular disgust.

Let’s be brutally honest: there are only two tight ends worth treating like the centerpiece of your fantasy dinner party this year — Brock Bowers and Trey McBride. Draft them as if they’re WR1s, because that’s what they are in everything but name. Round 1 is overkill, but if either guy falls to you in Round 2, you grab them faster than I grabbed that sliding glass door on my sprint to puke. Both are good bets for 100 catches, 1,200 yards, and 8 touchdowns. That’s WR1 territory, folks, and if you snag one, you lock the position down harder than Brandy locked down my heartbreak.

And if you do? That’s it. You’re done. No backups. No wasting a pick on some middle-tier TE “just in case.” When Bowers or McBride hit their bye week, you stream some random goon off waivers, pray for 4 catches and 40 yards, and move on.

I don’t buy much into the notion of positional scarcity. In fantasy, you’re trying to accumulate contributors of reliably gaudy point totals. People say that running back is scarce. No. You can find weekly double digit contributors in rounds 7-10. BELLCOW guys are scarce. Valuable point getters? Not really. That’s why you can get them late. But tight end is SCARCE scarce. There aren’t 12 dudes worthy of a starting fantasy spot, and only two elite ones, so…

Everyone Else? Handle With Tongs

Miss on Bowers or McBride, and you’re in swampy territory.

George Kittle: Brilliant player, but he’s one CMC ankle away from being a blocking decoy. Injuries and age have him looking more like a bottle of wine left open on the counter. Fifth round or later only.
Travis Kelce: Still Mahomes’ guy, but no longer the guy. Drafting him high now is like paying $40 for a Bud Light because you “liked it in 2018.”
Sam LaPorta: Rookie rocket turned sophomore sputter. Still talented, but he’s option #5 in Detroit’s offense. Fifth round is fantasy malpractice.
David Njoku: Athletic freak, stuck in Cleveland’s QB blender. You’re not drafting Njoku — you’re drafting chaos.
Tucker Kraft: Sleeper I like, but there’s a lot of projection and no small amount of hope that goes into Kraft as your TE1. That’s a prayer, not a plan.
Mark Andrews: He was a touchdown monster last season, but he’s aging, seemingly always dealing with an injury, and has Isaiah Likely looking over his shoulder. Tread carefully.

From there, it’s stream city. Don’t be ashamed of it. Some guys to keep on the Rolodex:

Brenton Strange: Rumored chemistry with Trevor Lawrence. Worth watching, not worth drafting.
Tyler Higbee: Fine real-life player, bad fantasy asset. Still, Stafford trusts him.
Zach Ertz: Yes, he’s old. Yes, he’ll get you 6 yards per target. But he’s reliable, and if McLaurin sits out, Daniels is going to need a security blanket.

Tight ends are either champagne or tap water. If you can’t get one of the Fabergé eggs, think long and hard before buying a knock off from the guy in the trenchcoat. Unless it’s Jameson. He’s cool and would hook you up.

The Punchline

And so concludes your five-part masterclass on dominating your fantasy league. You’ve learned the tuxedo trick, the running back patience game, the wide receiver overload, the quarterback wait-and-smash, and now, the tight end reality check.

In closing, I saw Brandy at school a couple of days after the party. She was her same, always friendly self, and asked, "Did you end up making it to the party?" Yeah, Z. I did. I never saw Jameson again, but I remember him vividly and fondly. He was a good dude back then, and I imagine he still would be now. Brandy and I lost touch after graduation, until ages later, she found me on Facebook. We chatted and caught up a bit online, but never met. She suggested coffee but I was engaged to be married and it didn't sound right. We've since lost touch again, but I'll always remember her. With everything, she was indeed a good friend through college and I'd be lying if I said she didn't have a great tight end.

Fantasy Football Domination: A Manifesto

Part I: The Psychological Blitz