Yeah, I know nobody cares about my fantasy team (or fantasy league!) but I'm still going to Squawk about it!

The first annual SIAC Fantasy Football League.

Me wearing my commissioner's hat. I'd like to think
I look like an old-school rapper with the hat!

There are three kinds of fantasy football players -- the hardcore, the moderate, and the neophytes. Kind of like the people in my running club. And sometimes, these worlds collide. This is a Squawk about what happens when they do.

I am at the back of the pack when it comes to running (although I do enjoy the heck out of it, and have lost 52.5 pounds so far doing so!) But I am pretty good at fantasy sports.And I wanted to do something with my running club, the Staten Island Athletic Club, that showed I was actually semi-competent at something! (Squawker Jon read this blog entry before it was published and said that his neck was hurting from reading all of this navel-gazing. So sue me!)

Anyhow, I somehow was able to form the first-ever fantasy football league with our running club members.

So we had our fantasy football draft Monday night at the Pepperjack Grill on Staten Island, the same place that hosts our monthly meetings. (Incidentally, my team's name is "My Balls Are Perfect," as per that legendary Daily News back page about Tom Brady.)

As commissioner, I wanted to make sure we got to 10 people, so I talked my compadre and fellow blogger Josh into joining our league. This, even though he knew nothing about fantasy football. Since he was only doing it because we needed 10 teams, his team name is "The 10th Guy." I promised to help make this as easy as possible for him, and explained beforehand how fantasy football worked.

Josh was new to the world of fantasy football,
but he proved to be a quick study -- especially
when it came to trash talking!

One of my selling points in getting people to join the league was that we would have lots of trash talk at the draft. That started right from the beginning, with Rob, who had the first pick in the draft, bringing it, making me want to give him the "most insufferable" award right away!. He may have failed in his first pick (Aaron Rodgers, really?) but he did bring it when it came to throwing shade, as the kids say! He also bought shots for the group (with ulterior motives, perhaps?) so I have to give him credit for that.

There were lots of characters in the draft room. Chris was very entertaining and animated during the draft. Margaret and Jazmine quietly made some good picks. Corey and Stephanie did as well. Josh picked up the game -- and how to trash talk! Mark, our club president, was a real hoot, as usual. (Although going for Gronk for the second pick wouldn't have been my choice! I think Mark is now obligated to name his team something with Gronk's name in it, like Honky Tonk Badonka Gronk or something!)

Charlotte complained that I kept on stealing the players she wanted to choose! Frank had a friend drafting for him remotely, which made us crack jokes about a robot making the picks.

Everybody seemed to have a good time!

As for myself, I brought a fedora to wear to the evening whenever I needed to put my commissioner's hat on. (Get it?) I also wore my burnt orange University of Texas Vince Young #10 football jersey.

It didn't take long before I got in trouble with the crew. Josh had to go out to his car to get his phone charger cord, and he was going to miss his second pick -- 12th overall in the draft, after picking Jamaal Charles with the 9th pick. So I went to his phone and picked Dez Bryant for him, causing the room to erupt in "I call shenanigans" cries. Oh, well!

I had a pretty good draft going -- Adrian Peterson fell into my lap, even though I was the No. 5 team --- with Demaryius Thomas in the second round, Randall Cobb in the third, and Russell Wilson in the fourth -- when my computer froze. I blame Windows 10. I didn't exactly handle it well; I think I screamed "Nooooo!" more than once and cursed a whole lot. So much for that semi-competent thing!

My reaction to my computer freezing up.

In the meantime, the NFL.com autodraft picked me Latavius Murray, Joique Bell, and Dwayne Allen. What a nightmare! I was beside myself over this debacle! It took several rounds for me to get back on track and I ended up having to conduct the rest of the draft from my iPhone app. I also got mocked for this as well, of course!

But I, of course, did some trash talk as well, sassing the Mets fans in the room and saying that at least this fantasy football team would give them something to do when the Mets collapsed again in September. Oh, snap!

At the end of the evening, we posed for a group photo, and everybody thanked me and said they had a great time. So the night was a big success! Now it's on to the season!

And this afternoon, I was bored, so I came up with funny team names, based on the players on the respective teams. Here they are:

Charlotte: Luck Be a Lacy Tonight

Chris: Cruz Control

Corey/Stephanie:  Don't Luck With Me

Frank: Bad, Bad, Antonio Brown

Jazmine: Saved by Le'Veon Bell

Josh: The Walking Dez 

Lisa: Eat, Drink and Demaryius

Margaret: My Favorite Marshawn

Mark: The Big Gronkowski

Rob: Golden Tate Bridge

On my running club, role models, and my fifteen minutes of fame in the Washington Post

It was pretty miserable and muggy weather this morning. Nonetheless, I did a 5K run on Staten Island, as part of Anthony's Run -- click the link to find out about a very good cause! Just when I was lined up at the back of the pack to start the race, Squawker Jon sent me this picture, which shows the article I wrote, complete with my byline, after he bought the only two Washington Post issues available in his neighborhood on the Upper West Side:

Amazing how much a genuine smile can take years off one's age!

My article takes up 3/4 of the page!

Talk about a motivation to do well! I cheered, and then got teary-eyed, when I saw my name in the subhead, and my words in print. I wept later when I thanked my best friend Jon for sending that to me at just the right time. It was amazing to see this article in the paper!

Yes, that is not a misprint. Yours truly is actually on Page B3 of the Washington Bleeping Post, in the Outlook (editorial) section, along with all of the important things people in DC are talking about. Yes, I still can't quite believe it, either! Go figure. (Click here for a link to my article!)

They gave me 1475 words to crack jokes about Madonna and defend A-Rod. Wait, what? How did this happen?

I would like to imagine President Obama or Speaker Boehner reading the WaPo this morning to see what's what in Washington, and having their jaws drop after reading my article. Dare to dream!

For those of you who may be rolling their eyes at my solipsism, cut me some slack. I never thought in a million years that this would happen!  (Believe me, I hope there is a day when making the Washington Post is no big deal in my career. Until then, please let me be excited and squeal like a little girl! Thanks!)

Yes, I am a tease. Literally!

Anyhow, back to my race today. You may remember me recently talking about a fellow running club member named Ryan, who lost 90 pounds in his own fitness journey. (I referenced him in this Squawk here.) I want to be Ryan one day -- he is a real inspiration!

So, the race I did today was an out-and-back one, with the last part of it up a driveway. Ryan, who had finished his own race, decided to join me as my running buddy for the rest of my own race. What a nice thing to do!

I don't think it is an accident that, despite the miserable weather (I do not like heat or humidity, and we had both!), between Squawker Jon's and Ryan's kind gestures, I had my second-best time ever in a 5K. Very cool!

However, all is not all sunshine and lollipops. I have gotten a lot of angry comments over my Washington Post article on A-Rod. I knew this was coming! Bring. It. On.

Two of the things I have been accused of are 1) being a Yankee fan and 2) a blogger. Yes, guilty as charged on both counts!

My "favorite" criticism so far was this email from a guy in Frederick, Md, who wrote me this:

Alex R. a role model??? Reallly??? A serial liar and cheater...If you need someone with those credentials to be your inspiration to get off your fat can, you have bigger issues...Why write this crap??? Oh, I understand. You're a blogger.. Shame on any respectable publication for putting it in print....

To which I responded:

Yet you read it! Have a great day!

I was going to point out that while I am still overweight, I do NOT have a fat can. I am the opposite of the Jennifer Lopezes of the world when it comes to the tuchis! P.S. Speaking of my overuse in this blog of the word "tuchis," I made a Derek Jeter tuchis-kissing joke in my article, but it was edited out. Oh well.

Should you praise overweight people for exercising? Bitter Washington Post writer says no; I say yes

I just got back from my running club's monthly meeting tonight when I read this Washington Post article my brother sent me entitled: "I’m a plus-sized woman. I never want to hear 'I’m proud of you’ for exercising. Stop the condescending praise for your overweight friend for hitting the gym." My first reaction was: "Speak for yourself, lady. Because you don't speak for this plus-sized woman!"

The article ticked me off so much that I feel compelled to do a rant on it. Warning: there will be no baseball content in this article, so if you're looking for my latest musings on the state of the Yankees, come back tomorrow!

In the piece, Allison McCarthy whines about how after doing a Color Run with a friend, the friend gave a little too much praise for Ms. McCarthy being part of the race:

I flinched with each of her cheery repetitions because I knew what she was getting at, even if she didn’t say it explicitly: “I’m proud of you for exercising while fat."

Let's suppose the friend complimented her too much. So bleeping what? There are a heck of a lot worse things in the world than overly effusive praise.

McCarthy continues:

 I don’t think my friend set out to hurt my feelings with her comments. But her words hit at my most fundamental insecurities — my fear that when people look at me, they see a problem body in need of solutions, someone who requires all of the extra exercise she can get. After we parted ways, I drove home alone, feeling self-conscious and hypervisible in my own skin.

This reaction is a common experience for plus-size women who go to the gym, swim in a pool or even take a walk around the neighborhood — other, thinner people feel the need to assert their “pride” in us for exercising in public. But is it really pride or yet another condescending reminder from the world that one can only be a virtuous fat person when visibly athletic? 

The writer is fat. So am I, although less fat than when I started on this fitness journey. And guess what? We *do* have problem bodies in need of solutions! Sorry if that is "fat-shaming," a term the author throws around, but it is true.

This really ticks me off because I fear that those who will read this article will be afraid to praise the next overweight person they see working out because of this writer's complaining.

You know what? If it weren't for the praise and support I got from others, like the people in my running club, I would never have gotten as far as I have in this fitness journey. I would have quit a long time ago, in fact.

Some of my fellow running club members have had more faith in me than I did in myself, and that faith really has helped inspire me when things get hard, as they always do when you try to change your life. In fact, I have had such kindness directed towards me that I think it has really changed me and made me a more positive person overall.

Getting in shape is hard. Weight loss is hard. Having the courage to try to do something about changing your life is hard. To do that in a vacuum, with well-meaning people afraid to say something nice because angry people like the one writing the WaPost article might take offense to it, is pretty much impossible.

Ms. McCarthy appears to be in her late 20s, so she probably doesn't have physical problems from her weight yet. But things like diabetes and heart disease are no joke. I'm 48, and at the age now where people start getting real complications from being overweight or even drop dead of heart attacks. Look at what happened to James Gandolfini and Jerry Garcia. That terrifies me. My mother was overweight her whole life and is now missing half of her toes from diabetes. That could be in my future unless I get ahold of this weight issue now.

But aside from those big issues, having a quality of life where I no longer get tired going up subway steps is awesome. Having more energy is pretty great as well. Both of these things have happened because I got out there and exercised. I also feel much happier, too.

Earth to Allison: Take the chip off your shoulder. Sure, a few of the people out there in the world who praise you and others for exercising may be condescending. But the vast majority of people have their hearts in the right place, and want to see us succeed. They actually mean well. Imagine that.

You can choose to take the praise in the good spirit in which it was intended, or you can be bitter and angry. One guess as to which one is going to help you get towards your goals.

The Staten Island Ferry crash is just a big joke to the Village Voice

Please forgive me for writing a non-baseball post (I'll get to Yankees-Red Sox shortly, I promise!) But as somebody who lives on Staten Island, I'm very upset about the Staten Island Ferry crash this morning. According to NY1, up to 60 people are injured, some of them seriously.

And I'm positively irate that Village Voice writer Joe Coscarelli thinks that the whole tragedy is just an excuse to write snarky comments about how "you get what you pay for" with the free ferry. I know that Staten Island is a socially acceptable target for jokes, but to be spewing snark about the crash literally minutes after it happened is just outrageous.

Here's what this jerk wrote on the Village Voice's Running Scared blog this morning (it was a top headline in Google News, which is how I found it):

You Get What You Pay For: Staten Island Ferry Crashes Into Dock
It's running almost constantly, provides a beautiful view and best of all, it's free. But the magical Staten Island Ferry had a little mishap this Saturday morning, when it crashed into the dock, injuring multiple people. Hopefully no one using the ferry to trek to work on this rainy Saturday morning was hurt and just a few rotund tourists with bad balance bumped their heads. Better yet, we hope everyone's okay! 

(BreakingNews is reporting that ten to twelve people up to 60 people have sustained minor injuries. Everyone wants in on the lawsuit action. Or at least free ferry rides for life, right?)

More updates as they come, or you could rush to your television and turn on the local news. Tell Sue Simmons we said, "hey, girl."

Wonder what else Joe Coscarelli thinks is funny. Did he have a giggle over the Times Square bombing attempt last week, hoping it hit "rotund tourists?" Maybe he laughed and laughed over the Nashville flooding, too.

The last time the ferry crashed, eleven people died. Others were seriously injured, with one man losing his legs. So when the very same boat crashes again, it's hardly the time to start making jokes about how "everyone wants in on the lawsuit action." Or to write about it with a tone more appropriate to an Ashley Dupre news item than a breaking news tragedy.

Writing "hopefully no one using the ferry to trek to work on this rainy Saturday morning was hurt" sure doesn't sound very sincere when you follow it with wishes that "just a few rotund tourists with bad balance bumped their heads." And keeping those lines in even after it was reported that up to 60 people were hurt, some of them seriously, is even more disgusting. Adding in that lawsuit joke made it even worse.

Anyhow, I hope this Coscarelli clown gets some grief over his breathtaking lack of judgment this morning in making jokes about this Staten Island Ferry crash. How incredibly tasteless. He owes Staten Islanders - and really, the human race as a whole - an apology for being a world class jerk. Grow up, dude.