It is my great pleasure to address you today, Black Thursday, as your Premier Fantasy Championship Commissioner. Over the past two months, we have conceived and launched the most competitive, potent fantasy basketball game in the history of mankind. We spanned the globe in search of the brightest hoops minds and threw them together into a cauldron of infernal ingenuity. What was the result? The very best and the very worst of the human condition was exposed.
Thousands of applications were considered and hundreds were further researched. In the end, 30 names emerged, each with his or her own story, a unique background, skill set and area of expertise. Each individual was given a team and chose a franchise player from that team to build a fantasy team around. And then we drafted. Over three grueling weeks, we studied, we considered, we selected, we spat, we cried, we laughed and we coalesced. In the end, 30 owners became one PFC. As your Commissioner, I took great pride and joy in the manner in which you grew. Like a father watching his child drive a car for the first time, I was proud of your maturation and afraid to let you out into the world at the same time. But I could not hold you back. Nothing could.
But I was not only your Commissioner. I was also one of you. In volunteering to commandeer the Knicks, I knew the odds were stacked against me. As the days became weeks, injuries to each of my key players pierced my impenetrable spirit. Yet I diligently led the league, preaching to you in my weekly edicts, inflicting my caustic wit without regard to who my metaphorical eruptions may rain down upon. These Commissioner's Notes have been a labor of love. Ultimately, however, being both team general manager and league commissioner proved too much to juggle. It was impossible to succeed in both and my team suffered as a result.
In accordance with the very essence of this league since its foundation, mediocrity should and will not stand. Every owner with a losing record after four weeks was subject to firing in a public vote. On Monday, that vote commenced. For three days, we have watched the numbers go back and forth like two horses in those carnival racing games where you roll the ball through the holes. But the vote also exposed the dangerous and dark underbelly. Rancor and venom was spewed the likes of which I hope to never see again. It tore us asunder. It nearly destroyed us.
In fact, it has gotten so bad that I, as your commissioner, am making a bold and historic move.
I am resigning.
This is how it must be. Many may assume that instead of facing the music as a terrible owner, I'm quitting first. That is not the case. I am acting out of conciliatory love, not fear. I love this league too much to see it devolve at its current pace. So let the healing begin.
Thank for allowing me to be your Commissioner these past few months and blindly accepting that I was an NBA expert. The truth is, I'm not. However, I openly challenge each and every person reading this to join the new WNBA Fantasy game next spring because I guarantee I will take you all down.
Yours in Prayer,
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