Playing Fantasy Football the George Costanza Way, Week 10

There is a specific personality or gene or parasitic brainworm belonging to people who work really hard all the damn time. I don't have it. I just can't force myself to work quickly or efficiently when I'm distracted, or when I don't absolutely have to. This is, admittedly, a tremendously unlucky draw when it comes to being a freelancer who is currently vacationing on a tropical island. Or it would be, if I weren't lucky enough to be vacationing on a tropical island. What I'm saying is, I'm on vacation.

The redeeming part of this personal flaw, if there is one, is that it is essentially wholly responsible for the formulation of The Costanza Method and the column that bears its name. Isn't it convenient that actually the best way to play fantasy football, as it turns out, is to waste little time with research and make even less of an effort to sound like an all-knowing, soothsaying expert? Why, yes. Yes, it is convenient.

With that in mind, you'll have to excuse me if this column is a bit shorter than usual, or much sandier and sweatier. I'm on island time. I'll give you the rest of it in, like, three days. Promise.

Oof. There's no way to know if this latest bump in the road is the beginning of the end for Daily Fantasy, which would be a bummer, if not totally a predictable one. The fact that this column more or less advises you to play the preternaturally well-branded Millionaire Maker tournament as if it is a scratchable lotto ticket should tell you all you need to know about its author's opinion as to whether or not Daily Fantasy constitutes gambling.

Say it does. Fine. Grant, also, that their ads are annoying, which I am in no position to debate, but I understand that many people feel that way. So let's establish that as well. Here's my thing: Who gives a damn? People in New York can get money overseas to online casinos if they don't feel like heading out to Atlantic City, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, or any of the dozen or so gaming floors in their own state. Indeed, no amount of regulation has proved capable of stopping America's appetite for gaming, and while that's not an ipso facto argument for its legalization, I'm not sure what, in the end, the hold-up really is. It damn sure ain't a moral one.

We gamble that the health insurance plan we choose will provide enough coverage for our needs in the coming year, and we gamble with our retirement years in 401ks that are subject to a confounding mélange of fees and risks. What, exactly, is the difference between those types of gambling and Daily Fantasy Sports? The integrity of the NFL? Well, about that…

Last Week's Fistpumps and Faceplants

Marcus Mariota, QB, Titans - 2nd QB, 36.34pts, +++

Jameis Winston, QB, Bucs - 13th QB, 18.36pts, +

Tom Brady, QB, Patriots - 12th QB, 18.86pts, +

LeSean McCoy, RB, Bills - 8th RB, 22.9pts, ++

Antonio Andrews, RB, Titans - 18th RB, 12.10pts -

Darren McFadden, RB, Cowboys - 12th RB, 16.20pts, +

C.J. Spiller, RB, Saints - 43rd RB, 2.0pts, ---

Sammy Watkins, WR, Bills - 3rd WR, +++

I know I said that I wouldn't include Brady in last week's column, but I was lying, and you should have known that I was lying. If I can still manage to pull the wool over your eyes by this point, that's on you. You knew what this was. Yes, you did.

The good news, if you're concerned about my lifelong ethical ledger at all, is that I included Brady to point out just how incredibly good Marcus Mariota was in Daily Fantasy this week, and impress upon you the importance of thinking differently.

Pictured is the winning lineup in the Millionaire Maker contest from Week 9, and you'll notice several things about it. Chief among them, unlike Hershey's chocolate, it is not chalky beyond belief. Less than half of Skeener917's roster creeps into double digit ownership, and among those selections, Antonio Brown is quite clearly the only traditionally elite player at his position. In other words, Skeener917 found a lot of little inefficiencies, and got very lucky.

That winning roster right there is one we're trying to conjure on a weekly basis. Even if the inefficiencies I recommend are dumb or don't work out—which they are and probably won't, obviously—the idea that inspires them is on point. You have to do something different to win big, and if I didn't care about that, my vanity plate wouldn't be BIGBUXWINNER (we, uh, get more letters in my state).

Teddy Bridgewater, QB, Vikings - $5,100

Russell Wilson, QB, Seahawks - $5,900

Derek Carr, QB, Raiders - $5,800

Eddie Lacy, RB, Packers - $5,500

Charcandrick West, RB, Chiefs - $4,800

Marshawn Lynch, RB, Seahawks - $6,700

Randall Cobb, WR, Packers - $6,700

Dez Bryant, WR, Cowboys - $7,800

Rishard Matthews, WR, Dolphins - $4,700

Jimmy Graham, TE, Seahawks - $4,900

So here we have the traditional assortment of stars we hope to catch on the upslope, relatively sleepy sleepers, and the outright overpriced. There are a few retreads in this grab bag, too, although I prefer to think of them, more optimistically, as visiting graduates of the program. Matthews, for his part, seems to be stuck in the ditch of suppressed value, from which no amount of shirtless tailgate leaning will free him. Eddie Lacy, on the other hand, poured quicksand into the same ditch and jumped in at the beginning of the year. Who knows if he can be resurrected, but in the spirit of Saint C.J. Anderson, today we offer Lacy penance.

It's Week 10, apparently, which is very easy to find out if you merely click on your fantasy football league page. You are doing that, right? You're clicking on the league page sometimes? Good. Oh yeah, totally. Me, too. Love to see the transactions.

I called regular fantasy sports a garbage can last week but, upon further reflection, that isn't quite right. It aspires to be a garbage can but falls well short, even on its best day. It's actually the big ol' poop pipe that Andy Dufresne crawls through in Shawshank Redemption, and before you accuse me of getting all Simmons-y on you, I will note that I had to Google the movie because I forgot the title. I just remembered the poop crawl, and knew that there was just nothing better to describe the average weekly fantasy experience. It's no wonder the DFS guys seized on the slog of it all in their advertising campaigns.

I haven't just been remiss in keeping up with my fantasy teams—I've been downright acrimonious about it. I'm sick of them! And yet, because of staggering insights like "don't trust Jeremy Langford" and "do trust Vernon Davis," I am doomed to an eternity of first-round BYEs and playoff matchups. Oh, what a tangled web we weave.

Your call-ups:

Josh McCown, QB, Browns

Matthew Stafford, QB, Lions

Alfred Blue, RB, Texans

Joique Bell, RB, Lions

Gio Bernard, RB, Bengals

Pierre Garcon, WR, Washington

James Jones, WR, Packers

Brandon LaFell, WR, Patriots

Jordan Reed, TE, Washington

Where racking up multiple nominations in the Costanza Method DFS recommendation section could mean you're 1) hurt, 2) a backup, or 3) a backup who hurt himself tripping over the starter as he lay prostrate on the sidelines, being named a call-up generally means one thing: you're not too good.

At least in the experts' view, that is. Here, I don't say "experts" with an eye roll—I really mean it. There is no doubt that the Tristan Cockrofts of the world are taking on an arduous task with their weekly ranks, drawing on a number of information sources that, frankly, I couldn't even enumerate, much less match.

There is such a thing, however, as paralysis by analysis, which my wife can attest to whenever a date night takes us to a restaurant with an interesting menu ("They have frog legs and bacon-wrapped dates, hon!"). There also is the question of the optimal signal-to-noise ratio. When it comes to fantasy sports, you're better off in Airplane Mode.

That's why I try to keep it simple with these call-ups. Is the guy good? Does the matchup seem good, too? OK, well, don't worry about the 23 guys that are supposed to be better than him, according to some list or other. Trust your instincts; trust your heart.

Right now, mine is telling me to hit the beach.