Sean Beckwith: Winning big on Christmas |

Sean Beckwith: Winning big on Christmas

As the cliché goes, the best gifts can’t be bought. This usually refers to things like love, friendship and other sappy stuff you’d find on a Hallmark card. While that may be true for Christmas movies and people who generally suck too much to be liked, it’s not applicable to children. Try to convince a 5-year-old to wait to open presents while you go out for some powder turns like my friend unsuccessfully did.

However, I have to take a break from the cynicism for a moment to acknowledge the best gift I received: the fantasy football title of the Jim Cornelison league.

If you’ve been reading my columns this year, you may remember I was required to write a piece about the league to regain entry after being falsely exiled because I wouldn’t kiss the commissioner’s ring. While I certainly didn’t kiss the ring in that column, they still let me back in because I wasn’t perceived as a threat. Hubris will get you a lot of things, none of which are good.

First, I want to thank the NFL for putting out a product so horrendous that a team with a pair of Indianapolis Colts and Denver Broncos can bring home the belt. Your team may have only three wins this year, but you’re all Hall of Famers in my book, Frank Gore and T.Y. Hilton.

C.J. Andersen and Demarius Thomas, sorry you had to deal with Brock “The Glock” Osweiler’s terrible sideline pep talk and even worse passes. I hated every second I spent watching your awful QBs set Denver football back 20 years. You persevered through it all and came out on top of the Cornelison league (and bottom of the AFC West.)

Cam Newton, you can dress like whatever cartoon villain you want. You want to rock a fez? Feel free. Lead the brimless hat folks, like my fantasy team, back from the abyss to the highest stage. I would like to thank Joe Flacco for redefining the word elite and always keeping pressure on his defense to be perfect because he’s terrible at his job. A special shout-out goes to Zach Ertz and Jake Elliott for being consistent. I’m sorry about Carson Wentz and even more sorry that now your playoff fate rests in the hands of Nick Foles.

If last night’s turnover-palooza was any indication of what we’re in store for in the playoffs, Philly is going to get knocked out like my buddy Kyle, who I vanquished last night for the title. Speaking of Nick Foles and terrible decisions, thanks to the New York Giants for making him look so good that Kyle said to himself, “He seems like a pretty nice play.” To which I reply *David Spade voice mocking Chris Farley in “Tommy Boy”* “Hmm, he seems like a pretty nice play.”

I want to know how the smartest guy in the league, someone who has spent time in South Korea and China teaching English, thought starting Nick Foles in the championship game was a good idea. You didn’t catch the Confucius saying: “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart, but my god, do not give Nick Foles the start.”

Other people I would like to run my mouth to: Joe F., you are the Sean Hannity to commissioner Nate G’s Donald Trump. Geoff, thanks for the additional playoff bye week. Seth S., the only reason you’re in this league is because a bunch of these malcontents get community service credit for interacting with you. Andrew, Oliver, Marc and random guy I don’t know, thanks for coming out and for your gracious donation to my next vacation.

Yesterday was truly magical. It began with some powder turns on Ajax. Next I hosted some family and friends for a brunch featuring mimosas, bloody marys, chicken and waffles, steak and eggs and biscuits and gravy. I got a new snowboarding jacket, some ski socks, a Trail Blazers hat, a pizza book and flour for pizza dough. I did have to work, but it was better than subjecting myself to that Pittsburgh Steelers-Houston Texans massacre. To end the night, I was treated to a brilliant performance by Kyle’s Oakland Raiders’ defense. It was delightful watching Foles one-hop passes to receivers and treat Alshon Jeffrey like he was a blocking tight end. Meanwhile, the only person Foles could find was his tight end, or more correctly, my tight end. Foles only threw for 163 yards, 81 of which went to Ertz. After the final whistle I threw back brown liquor at a much higher completion rate than Foles.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! Thank you for the gift, guys. You didn’t so much give it to me as I took it, Corleone-style.

“Do you renounce Roger Goodell?” No, may God have mercy on your soul.

“Do you renounce your own team for Nick Foles?” Yes? Have fun in football hell where every game features Nick Foles.

“Do you acknowledge me as your football lord and savior?” Well you don’t have an option because I have the belt and loot. I would say better luck next year, but y’all need some common sense and a functioning brain first.

Sean Beckwith is a copy editor at The Aspen Times. Email him at


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