First in fantasy, second in family
A loss to my brother always stirs the best trash talk
BY TRAVIS MORAN
Few people love being right more than my brother. But it’s not validation that gets his engine running; it’s the schadenfreude of you being wrong—or, even better, me being wrong. That’s the ultimate twist of the knife.
After eight long weeks, our fantasy teams finally met just before Christmas. I’m in first place by a whisper. Our squads—mine the Hustle and his the Triangle—had spent those first two months jockeying for pole position with the menacing Windy City Ninjas, who've been moving pieces like it’s Union Square speed chess.
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My brother’s team is doing well, though, after being everybody’s pick to fail because his stars are all injury prone. After constructing a team of ticking time bombs, my brother’s been feeling pretty good: