The Man Comes Around

2024 Dynasty Startup Rankings, SF

Chapter 10

Joe’s head jerked back and forth as he took in sharp breaths. His eyes began to well up as he fearfully checked his surroundings.

“Not an easy thing to have the curtain pulled back. At least you made it back, not everyone does.” Listin said patting Joe on the back. “Tell me, how many did you see? One? Two of them?”

“What?! Umm, I saw five,” Joe said, gathering his breath. “Maybe six. I don’t know what the last thing I saw was.”

Listin’s bloodshot eyes looked at Joe inquisitively, “Really?” He took a swig of his beer, flexing his temples and gritting his teeth. “Joe, help me with something. If I wanted to create Dynasty Startup Rankings for the 2024 season, how would YOU PERSONALLY go about that?”

“Well, I put quite a lot into my rankings,” Joe said with apprehension.

“Like what?” Listin said sharply.

“I like to look at everything. I start with the latest consensus startup ADP as a baseline, and from there I add in the latest AlphaDog rankings along with production results from the previous season. A lot of dynasty players exclude redraft rankings but I think production is the biggest reason why rankings change. I assign all the players tiers and use various tie-breakers,” Joe said looking at the crowd around him. “I use a lot of different metrics from the previous season and I take pride in my rookie research. I came across two individuals in my history books called the Bootleggers, who also took a very thorough approach,” Joe said eagerly. “They use a metric called Quarterback Support I found to be very intriguing -”

“Is that all!?” Listin laughed.

“Well, there’s one more thing,” Joe said unzipping his backpack. Everyone around Joe stared intently at the WoRP helmet.     

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t ya Joe?” Listin said nodding. Joe looked at Mary’s worried expression. He suddenly realized there was no turning back now. 

“Well don’t be shyyyyy! NOT NOW!! Things are getting good!” Listin elated.

Joe’s hands instinctively slid the headgear on and flipped the visor down. Reflections of the bonfire danced across the WoRP device’s finish, setting Joe’s head and face aflame.

• “If I had to guess, people elevated Stroud too much after his historic rookie campaign.” Joe began. “An amazing passer, no doubt, but I would rather bet on QBs with rushing upside.”

• “I project Anthony Richardson to join the likes of Allen, Hurts, and Lamar as elite Konami QBs in 2024. Injury risk is a concern, but his talent and team situation are worth the risk. Despite his slight frame, I’m also high on Jayden Daniel’s duel talents. 

• Franchises that consistently win and roster some of the best playmakers in the league are why I’m higher on Dak, Purdy, & Goff.

• Managers will be desperately high on players like Garrett Wilson & Drake London, but I prefer Aiyuk, Nico & Pittman. Unless you're the next Justin Jefferson or Marvin Harrison Jr., the situation and multi-year stability between the receiver, the QB, the coaches, and the rest of the team will always trump any short-lived opportunity.

“Well come on now!!! Let’s give Joe a round of applause!!!” Listin shouted. The clanking of crude armor and clapping echoed loudly through the darkness, penetrating deep into Joe’s psyche. 

“I do take issue with just one thing though,” Listin interrupted. “Why spend so much TIME on these rankings if the best you can hope for is to be twenty, maybe forty percent accurate with the help of D here?”

Joe sat silent, not knowing what to say.

“Shouldn't the priority be making the best selections, not the best rankings Joe?” Listin asked.

Taking a deep breath, Joe nodded and said “I don't have to be anywhere close to a hundred percent accurate. Even D is limited in his power. I just need to be better than everyone else. My rankings help me make the best selections.”

There was a deafening silence. Opening his mouth and cocking his jaw to the side, Listin smiled saying “Fair enough.”

Listin extended his hand towards Joe and pulled him from the ground. “Let’s go have a chat,” he said, putting his arm around Joe. The light from the campfire began to fade and soon all Joe could perceive was the sound of sand giving way under his feat.

“So, your Silo prohibits using content from other channels?” Listin inquired.

“We have certain textbooks, but there is a bunch of stuff we're not even allowed to read, let alone use. My dad says outside sources aren't true, which was the main thing he fought against in the war.”

“Like stuff from the surface?”

“Ya.”

“No chance to decide for yourself, huh?”

Joe kept his head, trying his best to discern the ground in the bright moonlight. The faint sound of roaring and crashing began to fill the air. Listin led Joe to the crest of a high dune before ultimately resting down in the sand. And there it was, a black ocean sprawling towards an infinite horizon. The violent churning of the waves played on an endless loop for Joe.

“Are you obsessive Joe? Do you obsess over things?” Listin asked.

“Ya. A lot of what I want seems like things I’ll never get.”

“My whole life, I felt like I was enlisted in a war against failure or mediocrity, called to fight for others. But the more I figure things out, the less plugged in I want to be with others,” Listin professed.

Joe looked at Listin and asked, “What about your people?”

“Most people will never change,” Listin exhaled. “You can guide them to still waters and green pastures, but it’s never enough. They never learn to lead themselves.”

“What about your family?”

The air became heavy around Listin. “Not everyone makes it, Joe,” he finally said. “There are a lot of things you can’t control. I couldn't stay where I was, around my father. But you can always learn, little by little.”

“But meeting you Joe has given me hope,” Listin said, managing a smile. “I believe we share the same calling. You pour a lot into your work. Don't waste your passion on people who don't want to listen. But I'll listen, Joe. And if I listen, many others will too,” Listin said looking at Joe. “What do you say? Willing to start making your own choices?” he said, extending his hand towards Joe.

“Ya,” Joe said, shaking Listin's hand. “Why the hell not.”

Listin stood up and shook the dust from his coat. “You can tell me all about your silo on the way back!” he said, putting his hand on Joe's shoulder.

Mary was surprised that Joe was smiling when he returned with Listin.

“Joe, you can stay here for a little while with Mary. Lukos and I don't want to keep our friends waiting.”

Listin, Lukos, and the entire gang mounted their motorcycles and left as quickly as they came. Once again, Mary and Joe were alone in the cold dark wasteland.

Chapter 11

The large blunt blade struggled its way through the apple’s flesh. Jim rolled over in his bed and squinted at the silhouette sitting at his desk. The fruit snapped under the shadowy figure’s bite.

“Do you have any idea how long it's been since I had fresh fruit?” Lukos asked with his mouth full.

“Lukos?” Jim said, sitting up in bed. “How did you -”

“Your front door was open. Don't worry, Joe is fine,” said Lukos.

“Is that my -”

“Still keeping your knife under your mattress?” Lukos said as he continued to slice up the apple. “Living in a bunker doesn’t make you feel safe?”

“Clearly not,” Jim replied.

“You look older Jim. You should get some sun.”

“I never thought I would see you again,” Jim said.

“That’s typically what happens after people are banished,” Lukos said sarcastically.

“I didn't mean for things to turn out the way they did Perro.”

Lukos lowered his head, sifting his hair through his hand. “You threw me out to the wolves Jim. You let the surface eviscerate me while you hid down here… safe. Do you know what that feels like? People out there are stripped of their goodness, their humanity. Their hope. Is that the world you envisioned for everyone? For your son?” he said tightening his grip on the knife’s handle.

“I only wanted to help people Lukos. I didn’t know it would lead to this fallout.”

Lukos shook his head and said, “You never wanted to help people Jim, you just wanted recognition for it. From the looks of it, you're still waiting.”

“What happens now?” Jim asked.

Lukos took his time before finally answering, “I'm going to give you what you always wanted - an opportunity.”

Chapter 12

Tim raised the tequila shot to his lips and slapped it on the wooden bar. The sound echoed through the lifeless saloon. The old bartender filled his glass with the familiar transparent spirit. The wooden stool groaned as the Magistrate shifted his weight towards the portly man sitting beside him.

“So, what have you been hearing?” Tim asked.

“Same hellscape, different day,” the man replied. 

“Mashed potatoes yesterday, mashed potatoes today,” Tim added. “What about the competition? I've seen a pretty sizeable uptick in their activity lately. Are they collaborating?”

“Sort of, but, not exactly,” the man winced as he took a sip from his glass.

“Well, what in the Sam-fuckin-Hill does that mean Carl?” Tim said irritated.

“There's a new player,” Carl paused to dab the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. “He's been investing heavy resources into these other channels.”

“What? Why?! Those places were floundering!” Tim exclaimed.

“Not anymore. Their content, views, and division members have tripled over the last month,” he said with a heavy breath.

“Well, how in the hell am I supposed to move in on these channels now?!” Tim said in disbelief. “Who the hell is this asshole!?”

“He keeps himself pretty hidden. Not much to go off of,” Carl replied.

“That doesn't help Carl! I'm paying you WoRP edges for your services!” Tim shouted waving his hands.

Carl frowned before turning forward in his stool.

“Well, I don't care who this guy is! If he thinks he can beat me to the punch then I want this fucker dead!!!” Tim said slamming his hand on the bar and spilling his tequila shot. “Set up a meeting with the bounty hunters!” he said facing Carl.

Carl had his head down, doing his best to distance himself from the Magistrate’s outrage. He quickly pulled out a credit from his pants pocket and threw it on the bar before briskly walking through the exit.

“It may be difficult to land a bounty hunter,” a voice said behind Tim. “I'm hoarding them all,” the figure said slowly lowering his drink to the counter.

“Where in the hell did you come from?!” Tim said flabbergasted. 

“From roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it,” the man smiled at Tim. He was wearing a coal-black bolero with an enlarged brim, dwarfing Tim’s cowboy hat.  His eyes were bloody.

“Now, I understand there may be a lot of mystery surrounding who I am and how I operate. Well, here I am, in the flesh,” Listin said pivoting towards Tim. “You'll have to forgive my appearance; we do not enjoy the same accommodations on the surface as you do,” he said waving over the bartender for another round.

“The investor I presume?” Tim asked.

“I’m a creator. I have numerous channels spread across the wasteland, both high and low. Many of my followers belong to a division, not too dissimilar from yours.”

“How would you know what my division is like?!” Tim interjected.

“I know a lot, Tim. I know you’re tired of leading, tired of waiting on your brother to get his shit together. But most of all, I know you're desperate for growth,” Listin said sternly. “I know all too well Magistrate.”

“You think you know me?!”

“I know that deep down, the bunker mentality doesn’t suit you. You’re a conqueror Tim. Your very nature cannot be confined to a silo after you’ve already established your rule. You’ll always strive for more.”

“What do you want?” Tim asked incredulously. 

“I want to help you and your channel. Your WoRP device is an ocean of oil, Tim. I’m your oilman.”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Your WoRP device is useless unless it goes on heads,” Listin said bowing his oversized hat. “That makes the heads the most valuable commodity, not the tool itself. You’ve been cut off from the outside world for too long and you haven’t gotten with the times. Regardless of whether it's loyal division members, degenerate gamblers, or even mutants, it would be foolish to withhold the largest sectors in the fantasy space from your market share.”

“And how would we accomplish that?” Tim asked.

“Mass-produce the WoRP device. You’ve kept Excalibur in its sheath by limiting yourself to only the dynasty community. You should be using it to conquer the entire fantasy planet. Redraft, DFS, AlphaDog. Billions clamoring for their own WoRP device so they all can win their leagues and trophies.”

“But they all can’t be winners,” Tim countered.

“No, but you’ll win. Isn’t that what matters?” Listin answered. 

“Where I’m from, if we hear a story too good to be true, it ain’t. What do you want in return?”

“Access to your Silo. If I’m going to back this venture, I make it my business to oversee my people and product. It’s not a secret that your viewership isn’t where you want it to be. But that’s ok because outside of production, I’m going to offer you a presence and likeability that will be far more influential than a brand built on stale knowledge or cold technology. I’ll provide you with the best editors, the best content, and a wider audience. You’ll have more resources than you know what to do with. I assure you that if we can mass produce the WoRP Device, your Silo will not only survive, it will thrive.”

“You got the devil in you boy.”

“Well now that you know who you are dealing with, let me play my part and offer you the deal of a lifetime. What do you say?” he said extending his hand.

Tim looked long and hard at Listin’s hand. At that moment, the clock on the wall chimed loudly three times. Each toll rang progressively sharper and deeper in Tim’s mind. “I was always taught that nothing good ever happened after midnight.” Tim grasped Listin’s hand and sealed the deal.

“Listin Roy, at your service,” he said shaking Tim’s hand. “Now let’s drink to your campaign.”

Chapter 13

Joe slowly slipped through the opening he left in his home’s entrance, trying his best not to wake his father. Once inside, he immediately noticed the familiar glow of his modest television casting shadows throughout the living room. Sitting in front of it was a familiar silhouette, remaining motionless as it loosely held a crystal glass full of Scotch next to a nearly empty bottle.

“Are you going to tell me where you have been?” Jim finally said. “Or do you think I don’t know?”

The graveness in his father’s voice was alarming. Joe glimpsed flashes of his father’s disheveled appearance from the flickering light of the TV. He cautiously approached the couch.

“I’m leaving Dad. I’ve been given an opportunity to do what I’ve always wanted.”

“To do what?!” Jim said condescendingly. The smell of liquor burned Joe’s nostrils, keeping him at a distance.

“To help the people who need it the most. Out there,” Joe replied.

“Why?!”

“It's the right thing to do. It’s what you taught me.”

“No!” Jim barked. “I need you here Joe. I’m becoming Co-Magistrate and there’s a lot of change coming. Your duty is here. You can help the people here.”

“I don’t belong here.”

Joe took a long, agitating sip from his glass, seemingly ignoring his son.

“You’re making a huge mistake,” Jim said as the breath of his voice slowly leaked out. “You’re going to fail.”

“I can’t stay here,” Joe said clenching his fists. “I don’t want to be like you!”

“If you have something to say, then be a man! Say it for yourself!”

Joe’s throat was tight and his breathing was absent. “If I don’t do this, then I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You’re betraying me,” Jim said spitefully. “You’re betraying your mother.”

“What?”

“Your mother didn’t listen to me and now she’s dead! I never wanted you! You were an inconvenience,” Jim said slowly. “You took her away from me and I got stuck with you. You’re nothing like me because I’m not your father…” 

Joe’s attention deflected towards the action on the black and white screen. The ball is snapped and the nameless quarterback fakes a handoff to his running back. The passer stands tall in the pocket, waiting for one of his receivers to break loose of their defenders. The QB throws a short pass to his tight end and is immediately tackled. The play lasted less than three seconds.    

“Do you understand what I just said?” Jim continued. “You’re not mine, you’re someone else’s. You’re an ORPHAN. An orphan that no one else wanted and I felt sorry for. You should have left seventeen years ago.”

Joe remained stationary as he watched the offense leave the field and the punting team quickly set up to kick the ball away. With the ball in the air, Joe silently entered his room and placed his hamster in a small carrier. His mind was blank as he gathered what little he had and walked through the front hatch. Jim never once looked at Joe. His gaze was fixed on the screen. It wasn’t until the steel door slammed shut that Jim looked over at the vacant space beside him. Flashbacks began to fill his mind of watching games with Joe, late at night, where it felt like they were the only people left on earth to enjoy the spectacle.

Mary waited close by as Joe emerged from the Silo hatch. He did his best to hide the reaction on his face and walked quickly in front of her.

“How did it go?” Mary asked. Joe continued to walk, pretending like he didn’t hear her. “Are you ok?”

“Things didn’t go that well,” Joe finally admitted.

“I’m sorry,” Mary said. “Family can be tough.”

Family? I don’t know what that means anymore. It’s gone now.

Joe quickly tried to wipe his face hoping Mary wouldn’t see.

“I feel very alone. I’ve felt this way my whole Mary. And I feel like it will never get better. That I don’t matter,” Joe confessed.

A hand gently touched Joe, causing him to stop. “You’re not alone Joe,” she said slowly squeezing his shoulder. “These thoughts you’re having…they’re lies. Lies meant to destroy us, so the world has one less good person in it. The person who cares the most gets hurt the most.”

“It’s really hard Mary.”

“I know, but we have to keep fighting. You’re having a dark day. But there are going to be really good ones too.”

Joe stopped in front of Mary’s motorcycle where she asked, “Where do you want to go?”

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he replied.

Epilogue

Daylight filtered through the window, illuminating the exposed gears and levers. Peering through the magnified lens of the lomb, the man carefully tightened the screw of the polished metal wheel. In great anticipation, he wound the crown of his device, coiling up the mainspring.

“Just a tiny, bit, mo-”

The spring snapped, sending the metal part flying into an unknown oblivion.

“Fuck.”

“HA! You messed it up again, didn’t ya!?” A voice cracked from the other side of the room.

“Shut up! I’m borrowing this!” the man replied as he snatched a tool from the desk behind him.

“NO! I need that for my control! Don’t mess with that!” the voice protested.

“I’ll take a controlled shit on your experiment if you keep it up.”

“You can’t control anything, including your shi-”

A loud knock echoed throughout the workshop and lab. Both men lifted their heads and stared at one another momentarily.

“That would be the door.”

“I know it’s the door. Go get it!”

“No, you get it! I’m busy.”

“What if they are here to kill me?”

“HA! Good!”

“You asshole,” he said getting up from his desk. The man opened the door and saw a young man wearing a yellow and green hat with a red-headed girl standing behind him.

“Who is it?!” a voice shouted from the other side of the room.

“It's a guy, a girl, and a hamster!” the man in the doorway replied

“Excuse me, is this where the Tinkerer and the Scientist live?” asked Joe.

The Dossier

Some Are Born To Endless Night

Startup ADP Retention Vs. Expert Rankings

Chapter 7

Joe covered his face first with a blanket, then a pillow, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not fall asleep. Turning over in bed, he stared at the soft pink glow that emanated from Sauron’s night light. The wheel squeaked as the hamster ran round and round in his cardio contraption. No matter what Joe did, Mary was all he thought about.

It was nearly midnight when Joe heard the rattle of his pipe. BAM! The rock skipped off Joe’s forehead and into his covers. It simply read “Meet now!” Quickly grabbing his ball cap and backpack, he squeezed through the front hatch of his home to not alert his sleeping father. Carefully retracing his classmates' path when they snuck off to party, Joe reached the narrow passageway to the surface. Grabbing the first rung, he slowly made his way up the 40-foot ascent. Joe’s hands shook nervously as he spun open the hatch. 

The high-pitched howl of the wasteland wind ripped the door from Joe’s hand and he was choked with dust. He quickly closed the hatch disguised as an overgrown bush and tied a strip of cloth to one of its branches. Scanning the horizon he saw a light flickering in the distance of the valley and set off towards it.

A slender figure stood up and slowly walked towards Joe, its silhouette blurred by the brilliance of the bonfire.

“Joe?!” said the figure.

“Mary?”

“You made it!” she exclaimed. 

There was a silence before Joe finally reached into his bag saying, “So, I brought what you asked for.”

“The Win-Now ADP!? Wow, thank you!” said Mary. “This is going to be so helpful, Joe. There’s so much noise here on the surface, it can be tough to know which way to go.” Her infernal red hair seemed as bright as the fire they stood beside, further accentuated by her oxblood jacket.

Joe sat and watched the raging campfire, following the embers as they disappeared into the night sky.

“Pretty amazing, huh?” she said. “It can be brutal for some but I love adventuring out here. Free from any cares… outside of heat stroke and giant scorpions.”

“Ya, it's amazing,” he replied. The flames glimmered in her large eyes, one emerald, the other aquamarine.

“Are you a-”

“Mutant!? Nope. No awful disease or cool powers for me. Everyone thought the same growing up but I just have some crazy eyes is all.”  

“Well, that’s cool,” Joe said awkwardly. “So, what are your plans, Mary?” he asked.

“Make enough winnings to get the hell out of here. A long time ago, my dad made some bad bets on Trey Lance and Justin Fields that he’s been trying to pay off since.”

“Damn, that sucks.” 

“It’s life. Happens all the time,” Mary shrugged. “But now you’re here to help us out,” she said smiling.

“Whatever I can do to help,” Joe nodded.

Mary stood up to throw more logs on the fire. “That makes me very happy to hear. There’s not a lot of people like yourself up here. Perhaps we can make this a regular thing?”

“What do you mean?” Joe inquired.

“I need your help, Joe. I know I could make it far in the AlphaDog tournament with you - over ten billion credits in prizes. We could split whatever winnings we get. What do you say? Can you help me?”

No girl has ever been interested in me before. Is this what it feels like? I’m not sure.

“Sure, what the hell. I’ll help you,” Joe agreed.

“Thank you,” Mary said rubbing Joe’s back.

Joe sat contently beside Mary listening to the wood snap and splinter from the heat of the fire. He didn’t think to ask her where she was from, discuss his favorite hobbies, or imagine how they would spend the tournament prize money. All Joe could think about was how different the surface was from the Silo. Coming from a place that breathed with electricity and incessant stimulation, he didn’t realize how weary his mind had become until it was finally unplugged. The only thing left for Joe to ponder was what would happen next.

“Oh, I should tell you, Joe, there’s-” Mary was interrupted by approaching footsteps. Joe looked up to see a man carrying dead branches. He was wearing a heavy-duty work coat and a plaid green undershirt. He had a tired face with a salt and peppered beard and hair. The firewood snapped as the man let it fall beside him.

The man looked at Mary and asked, “Who’s this?”

Chapter 8

The man’s brow coiled around his eyes as he inspected Joe.

“Lukos! This is my friend, Joe! He’s the one I told you about from the Silo!” Mary interjected.

“Nice to meet you,” Joe said extending his hand toward the man.

Lukos’ glare darted from Joe to Mary. “Hm,” Lukos said, ignoring Joe’s gesture.

“Here Joe! Have a drink with us,” Mary said kindly. Joe cautiously sat down as she removed three beers from a nearby cooler. 

First, I’m on the surface. Now, I’m having a beer with degenerates! Holy shit!

The can exploded with foam into Joe’s face. Lukos shook his head slowly.

“Whoopsies!” Mary laughed.

“Joe is gonna be our secret weapon for the tourney Lukos!” Mary exclaimed.

“Is that so?” Lukos said uninterested.

“Yeah, I have a good feeling that if we can think like the geriatrics who always win, and can look back to when they played, it will give us a huge leg up with data like this,” Mary said raising the ADP data.

“You’re still pursuing the Hindsight Strategy, huh?” Lukos asked. “Sounds like you both have it figured out.”

Lukos took a large swig of beer. “That Startup ADP, what year did you say it was from?”

“2024,” Joe replied.

“2024,” Lukos nodded belching. “Well, here’s the thing about the world of Dynasty. It’s all about staying power, value retention, shit like that. No one wants to draft Deshaun Watson in the 2nd round of 2023 if he’s going to be a 7th rounder in 2024, do they?

• Lukos leaned forward, “Let’s say you compared the first 12 rounds of Startup ADP from 2023 and 2024, and let’s also say that you accounted for a margin of error that increased every round. Do you have any idea how much turnover there is in ADP from year to year, even with the room for error?!”

• “Sure, you may be safe in the first round with it having the best ADP Retention at 50%, followed by the second round at 41.67%, but after that, there’s a sharp decline in ADP retention (fluctuating between 25 - 0%). 

• RBs had the best ADP retention amongst all positions at a meager 26.82%, which is ironic given the market.

• TEs, WRs, & QBs all experienced ADP Turnover at +81%.

• In total, only 20.83% of all players in the first 12 rounds of Consensus Startup ADP retained their standing from 2023 to 2024. There’s simply no consistency.”

“How much of that ADP turnover is attributed to making room for incoming rookies?” Joe interjected.

• “Well, there were 20 rookies in the first 12 rounds of the 2023 ADP (13.89%) and 24 rookies in the 2024 ADP (16.67%), but we all know how good of bets rookies are, don’t we? And look how many we put at the top of startups.” Lukos said shaking his head.

“Up here, your fancy analytics can only take you so far against five hundred million contestants?” Lukos said slowly. “That’s the sad part for most dynasty players - y’all think too long-term. It takes them years to discover what they could have figured out in just one year of Re-Draft… you can’t prepare for chaos.”

After a long pause, Joe said, “That may be the case for y’all up here, but I doubt anyone in the tournament has this.” Joe swung around his backpack and pulled out a large, chrome object.

Lukos stared intently at the helmet. “Joe… who runs your channel?” he said with strain.

“My Uncle Tim is the Magistrate. He’s brothers with my dad, James.” Joe replied.

Lukos labored but eventually managed a stiff nod before looking away. “Before the war, being a degenerate was a badge of honor,” Lukos began. “I remember being around your age when I got invited to my first league. I was a nobody before that. Lucky me, I won it my first year! But the one thing they don’t tell you kid… winning is a painful addiction. Everything else takes a backseat before you lose it all. Friends, family. The only thing that matters is being at the top. Do yourself a favor kid, go back to where you came from. You have no idea what people are capable of out here when winning is survival,” Lukos said standing up. He threw down his empty beer can and crushed it swiftly under his boot. “I’m gonna take a leak. When I get back, I hope you’re gone. Say goodbye to your friend Mary,” he said, turning away. Before Joe or Mary could say anything, he was gone in the dark.

Chapter 9

Joe remained beside Mary, watching her countenance slowly begin to dim.

“I’m sorry Joe,” she said. “I’m so freaking stupid. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was desperate and made the same mistake I always do - I got my hopes up and embarrassed myself, per usual.”

“I’ll help you, Mary,” Joe said, offering her a smile. 

Mary laughed awkwardly before composing herself enough to ask “Why Joe?”

“I told you I would and I’m a man of my word. I’m tired of people telling me what I can and cannot do. But this is no one else’s business. Don’t worry, I want to do this.”

Mary stared at Joe perplexed before breathing out deeply. “You sure are something, Joe. Thank you.”

“Eh, it's nothing. Let me just get another beer and then I’ll get out of here.” Maybe the second one won’t taste like shit.

As Mary reached into the cooler, a mechanical humming began to fill the valley. The roar of engines grew louder until Joe and Mary were surrounded by the whirling and screeching of throttle and exhaust.

Lukos ran back to the fire, “What is he still doing here Mary?!” He whispered anxiously. The engines died and an eery silence lingered for a moment. The air was abruptly filled with high-pitched howling and yelping that a canine would make. The nocturnal call sunk deeply into Joe’s spine, raising the hairs on his arms and neck. “Fuck, this isn’t good,” Lukos said scrambling. He grabbed Mary and sat her next to Joe. “Don’t worry, just be cool,” Lukos said discreetly.

The sound of shifting sanding intensified until the bonfire illuminated what appeared to be a hundred faces. The sea of people parted to make way for one figure that approached slowly with its hands behind its back.  

“Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright, in the forests of the night. What immortal hand or eye, could frame thy fearful symmetry?” the figure spoke. The creases of his black leather trench coat rubbed together as he bent down to look at Joe. Long raven hair disappeared into an oversized standup collar. His pale blue eyes were crowded with busted blood vessels, resembling a dead addict’s final moments. Mary and Lukos sat silently with their heads down. 

“Where did you blow in from Toto?” the man said tugging at Joe’s clothes and tipping his cap. “Oh I’m sorry, where are my manners?! My name is Listin, Listin Roy,” he said extending his hand towards Joe.

“I’m Joe,” he said shaking Listin’s hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Joe. Hopefully, we didn’t miss out on too much. Say, Mary, is that beer in your hand taken?”

Mary shook her head, “No, Listin, you can have it.”

“You didn’t shake it, did ya?” he said pausing his outreached hand. Mary became petrified. “I’m just fucking with ya, Mary,” Listin laughed.

“Now, just how long have you known these two here?” Listin inquired.

“We just met tonight,” Joe replied.

“How interesting. Well, since we’re all getting to know each other, tell me about yourself, Joe.”

Joe wavered back and forth on what to say. “I’m a dynasty student.”

Listin shifted his body towards Lukos, “What a small wasteland! Lukos and I used to be into dynasty ourselves,” he said with a wide grin. “Don’t be shy, what’s your favorite subject?”

“Historical Data and Trading Philosophy.”

Listin began wagging his finger towards Joe, “That’s funny you should say that because I also appreciate the art of taking things from other people,” he said excitedly. “How fortuitous that we would cross paths tonight. But Joe, I just have to ask, ‘What in the HELL are you doing here?’”

Joe looked at Mary before looking back toward Listin, “I’m just wanting to get out there and share what I know to help people.”

Listin snapped his fingers and nodded, “I’m not gonna lie, most other people I would laugh at for saying something like that, but I can tell you’re being genuine. That takes guts. All these people around you were once like sheep without a shepherd. In this cruel world, do you know what true power is? It’s not knowledge, it’s not tools, it’s not credits. It’s strength in numbers. But not everyone can lead Joe, only a few have the vision. Do you have that same vision, Joe?”

Joe looked into the faces of the crowd around him as he contemplated. Each one sporting an assortment of tattered biker garb, animal skins, and punk hairstyles.

“I think so,” Joe finally answered.

Listin raised his beer to Joe, but paused halfway, “I want to believe you Joe, but I have to make sure. Tell me, Joe… are you a fan of ghost stories?”

Joe sat bewildered.

“It’s my favorite thing to do around a fire on nights like tonight, and lucky for you, I know someone who tells the scariest stories!” Listin said delighted.

The crowd separated once more, but this time for something that Joe could hardly comprehend. Four giants of men walking in a square were each carrying the ends of two poles. Situated within these poles was an old man, slouched in an ornate chair and appearing to be asleep. The man had a long faded red beard, interwoven with golden rings and beads. His face and bald head were covered in runic tattoos. The masses began to stomp in unison and a haunting chorus of guttural chants and animal cries began to fill Joe’s ears.

Listin raised his finger to his mouth and a hush fell upon the circle. “Joe, have you ever heard of the Fantasy Professionals?”

Joe shook his head.

“Well, they were a brotherhood of individuals who were born with special giftings. Mutants actually. When the war broke out, their entire order was wiped out. Only D here managed to survive,” Listin said, putting his hand on the mutant’s shoulder. “Now, I’m sure that you are painfully aware that people are obsessed with the future. And despite our best efforts, our ability to project can be quite dreadful. But I’m here to tell you Joe that this man here can open doors that only God can open. He dreams of both the past and the future. He has the power to create startup rankings that are twice as accurate as Consensus ADP from year to year. 

• In 2023, D’s first-round ADP Retention was an astounding 75%, followed by the second round at 58.33% and the third round at 50%.

• Outside of his 5th round (16.67%) and 11th round (25%) rankings, no other round dipped below 33.33%.  

• QBs had the best ADP retention amongst all positions at 46.67%, followed by TEs at 44.44%.

• RBs & WRs experienced the most ADP Turnover at only 61%.

• In total, 40.67% of D’s Startup Rankings in 2023 retained their standing in 2024, nearly doubling Consensus ADP (20.83%) and outperforming the masses at every position.

But don’t take my word for it, Joe,” Listin said as he rummaged through his coat. “See for yourself.” 

Listin pulled out a round bronze object and began to wind it backward. It was a double-sided clock, each side engraved with the face of a man, one young and one old. 

“D, let Joe come and see, to behold the beasts of 2023.”        

Before Joe could react, the bells of the clock rang violently and the bearded man awoke from his slumber. His eyes were devoid of any white. It was as if two black holes were pulling Joe in, their gravity inescapable. Joe looked to Mary for help, catching only a glimpse of her crimson hair before D clapped his hands, and everything went dark. The fire was instantly extinguished and everyone from the bonfire had vanished. Joe could not see, touch, or taste anything in the nightmarish gulf. All he could hear was his panicked breathing.  

Lost in the ether of the dream, a mist began to appear around Joe. He looked through the fog and saw the first beast. It was a cheetah that had been slowed in time, chasing prey across a great plain, but stumbling just before it could reach its prize. The second beast was a young bull with great horns, breathing fire from its nostrils. The third beast was a colt, immense and powerful. It was cut down before it could reach its stride. The fourth beast was a lamb with spiraling horns. It scaled a steep cliff and reached the summit. Then Joe saw in the final vision, a great obsidian throne with a stygian crown seated upon it. And from the heavens, a great raven descended upon the place of power. The creature’s flapping wings and croak began to echo louder and louder through the ruins of the pillared hall, resonating in Joe’s mind to a deafening pitch. It wasn’t until the noise rivaled the roar of the loudest coliseum that Joe saw out of the corner of his eye a gaunt and colorless hand on his shoulder. Before Joe could turn to see the rest of the figure, another hand began to wrap around Joe’s face-

CLAP!

Derek Brown’s 2024 Dynasty Rankings can found at:

https://www.fantasypros.com/nfl/rankings/derek-brown.php?type=dynasty&position=OP

Consensus Startup ADP, SuperFlex (2023-2024)

The Dossier

A Change Is Gonna Come

Comparing Dynasty ADP’s

Chapter 4

“HI THERE!” the girl replied. 

Her voice pushed Joe’s heart over a cliff. Oh shit, there’s a girl living in my pipe! SHE MUST BE TINY! Joe scrambled for a witty first impression, but his mind was as still as a statue, leaving his mouth open in no man’s land. 

“ARE YOU STILL THERE?!” the girl asked.

“Ya! Sorry, I’ve just never talked to anyone through a pipe before! I guess this is what telephones were like back in the day!” Joe laughed nervously. “What part of the Silo do you live in?”

“Silo?! I’m outside silly!”

Joe’s sailboat covers flew off his bed as he spasmed in disbelief! OH GOD, SHE’S A DEGENERATE SURFACE DWELLER! I shouldn’t be having this conversation!

“I’ve never talked to anyone from a Silo! So you’re part of a Channel with its own Division full of other members, right?! You must be super good at fantasy to be living down there, huh?!” she suggested.

“I know some things,” Joe said playing it cool. “Working on rankings now,” he said as he frantically filed through his father’s record collection. Let’s Bring It On Home Sam.  

“OH REALLY!?” she asked. “Like AlphaDog rankings?” 

“We don’t really use redraft ADP. We play dynasty, so it’s a lot different!” Joe said as he lit his Margarita Sunrise candle.

“How is it diff-”

“Well, the first thing you have to do is start off with Consensus Startup ADP!” Joe interrupted. “This is what tons of people are doing in their drafts, so it gives you a good idea of how players are actually valued.”

“Ya, I’m familiar with -”

“But it’s SUPER important in dynasty to focus on youth because they are the most valuable!” Joe continued. “We like QBs that are 28 or younger, WRs under 27, RBs on their rookie deals, so like 24 or younger, and TEs under 28.”

“Where do those ages come from?” the girl inquired.

Joe was caught off guard. “Oh, ummm, I think it’s because it takes a few years to build a good team, so you want younger players mainly,” Joe responded. “So ya, you may be reaching more on rookies and younger players five or six rounds ahead of their normal ADP, but as you can see with SuperFlex Startup ADPs, 27 of the first 36 players (75%) and 38 of the top 48 players (79%) have been in the league for four seasons or less! Most of the best players are super young!” Damn, great answer Joe!

“Huh, VERY interesting,” she replied. “Why don’t you just compete immediately instead of building for a year or two down the road?”

Joe sat up in his bed with a bewildered expression.

“I mean, I could win year one if I really wanted to but -”

“BUT, you’ve never gone ALL THE WAY, HAVE YOU?!” 

Joe’s head dropped and his lips compressed into a flat frown. “I’m saving myself for the right team to come along is all,” he said sheepishly.

The pipe amplified the girl’s laughter into a thunderclap that shook Joe to the core. Damn, even the surface mutants don’t like me.

“That’s cute! I like that!!” she said. “Would you like to do me a favor?”

Joe’s interest was resurrected. Girls love it when you do stuff for them! “Sure,” he said cautiously.

“Could you create the same ADP chart, but for a WIN-NOW team based on season-long production!? I need it for a 12-team, 4-point passing TD, start 10, PPR league with a 1.5 PPR for TEs, please! You know, the most common league type. Oh and if you could do it for the 2024 offseason and include rookies with their final year of college production, that would be great! I love that Old World stuff! THANKS!!!”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Kay, BYE!”

“Wait, what’s your name and how do I get you this ADP?!” Joe desperately shouted.

“Oh, I’ll throw more trash down and you can meet me outside!” she replied “My name is Mary!”

“My name is Joe!”

There was no response. I think she heard me.   

“She sounds nice, doesn’t she Sauron?” Joe said as the furry dark lord munched on pellets. I don’t know anyone who has ever left the Silo, it’s forbidden! I might as well be going to the Moon. But that makes me want to do it even more! Breaking the rules - FOR A GIRL! I have to make sure I do a good job with this special project for her.

• I wonder how many of these rookies were productive in the pros?

• There are so few players whose draft capital matches their production!

• According to my history book’s notes, a lot of the productive QBs like Dak, Purdy, Goff, and Tua were discounted because they were viewed as products of their situations and not as talented as their elite peers. But that makes no sense! These players enjoyed long, productive careers in the league’s best environments! I guess people in the Old World were just as hard to please.

• Damn, San Francisco must have had one hell of a squad! They have the most productive players in the top 156 with 9, followed by Buffalo with 7!

Joe went to his door, but before he could open it the hatch abruptly raised, and a large silhouette stood before him staring down with its arms crossed. 

Chapter 5

“OH! HEY DAD!” Joe said surprised.

Jim scanned the room, “Motown, candles, and a white towel sprawled out on the bed. Looks like you were getting ready for a good time, huh? Where’s she at?”

“Where’s who at?” Joe said looking around his room.

“I heard you talking to a girl,” Jim said as he looked under his son’s bed and in his closet.

“OH! She’s not here! She’s on the surf - I MEAN, I DON’T WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!” Joe said with a crooked smile.

Jim stood across Joe with his hands clenched, waiting for his son to crack.

TING, TING! The sound of the object broke the silence while it traveled down Joe’s pipe to his bed. They both remained motionless in their showdown. Jim turned around and picked up the rock. On it was crudely painted smiley face with “Thank You!” inscribed on the back.

“Oh YA! Dad, I’ve been meaning to tell ya, this pipe has been acting up,” Joe said anxiously.

Jim took a deep breath through his large nostrils, “You smell that?”

“Margarita Sunrise?” Joe replied with an exaggerated grin. 

Jim squeezed the rock and slowly nodded, “Let’s go see your uncle.”

The Magistrate stood with his back towards Joe, admiring an oversized painting of a lion roaring after a fresh kill. Jim sat close to his brother, glaring at his son with disappointment. A long boardroom table separated Joe from his father and the Magistrate. Joe stared at the rock at the center of the table, which smiled back at him.

“Son, your daddy tells me that you’ve been fraternizing with some unsightly folk now,” the Magistrate opened. “This has gotten your old man all tore up, but don’t worry now, you're not in trouble, I just reckoned we could have a nice little chat is all,” he said as he turned around with his arms extended towards Joe.

The Magistrate was similar in build to his brother Jim but was completely different in appearance. He wore a cream-colored checkered suit contrasted by his charcoal cowboy hat. His face glimmered with sweat like the gold chain that peeked through his white dress shirt. But most striking was his long white hair which fell freely to his shoulders.

“When we were your age, we never dreamed of building a place like this,” the Magistrate continued as he strutted through the room. “Dynasty hadn’t come around now, so people watched football just for the mere enjoyment,” he said looking up. “I know it's hard to believe, but there were no real stakes. No deeper understanding of the game.” The Magistrate stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head at the ground. “Your daddy and I fought bravely in the Content Wars, to bring us out of the Fallen World, and into the New One!” he said with a clenched fist. “Now, I reckon that you thought you were doing the right thing. You were just wanting to spread the good news!” the Magistrate said slapping his knee and looking back at his brother. “Be a light to the world! I appreciate the wonderful enthusiasm, but understand Joey… they ain’t ready. Instead, I got a better idea!” he said snapping his fingers. “What are you good at son?!” Tim said with a huge grin.

“Well, I like to think that I help the people of our Division,” Joe replied nodding. “Data Mining and contributing to the Analytics Association keeps me pretty active. I’m not very good at building tools or creating algorithms, but I feel like I make up for it with my love for football history, which I use to generate probabilities. I also participate in the Trading Philosophy Club, the Strategy Debate Team, and the Rookie Scouting Fraternity. My dad has taught me a lot as well,” Joe said raising his gaze towards his father.

“That’s swell son,” Tim said. “We are over 200 strong down here, so let’s stop with this galavanting and instead refocus those hormones into protecting all the beautiful things that your Uncle Timmy and your daddy have built down here! Now doesn’t that sound nice!?

“Your uncle is right Joe,” Jim said. “I need you down here and I need you to be better. You’re all I got.” 

With his leg up on a chair the Magistrate leaned in and softly placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder. Tim whispered, “When was the last time you WoRPed son?”  

“Oh, um, I don’t know, a day or two ago I guess,” Joe replied.

Tim motioned his way to a glass case in the corner of the room. He pulled out the helmet and made his way back to Joe. The entire room reflected off the mirror-like chrome finish of the headgear. Tim extended the Mind WoRPer towards Joe.

The Mind WoRPer was the crown jewel of their Silo and regarded as the most powerful tool that any Channel possessed. Created by the famed brothers known as the Tinkerer and the Scientist, the device could map out the most powerful players in a league, regardless of settings. With it, Tim was quickly elected Magistrate, leading his Division of members to unprecedented fantasy success. 

“Now, let’s have some fun now! Would you do me the honor of running the WoRP using the same settings you were gonna do for that hussy?” Tim said.

With the press of a button, Joe lowered the helmet’s visor, and the world went pitch black. Only a pin-hole-sized light flickered in the distance for Joe. The light flashed and a library of data flooded into his mind.

“Well! Don’t keep us waiting now, tell us what you see sweetpea!” Tim exclaimed.

• “I see a surprisingly low number of QBs at the top compared to all the other positions.

• A lot more TEs than I expected.

• I count only 17 rookies that broke into the top 156 best WoRP players (10.9%).

• You could build a formidable team pretty easily by focusing on WRs and taking the value that falls to you with the older, less flashy players at the other positions.

• It would be really hard to truly know the most valuable players in a league if you only went off points production and couldn’t WoRP.”

Joe flicked the visor up and gave the helmet back to the Magistrate.

“You got a bright future son,” Tim said slapping his nephew on the shoulder. “Don’t squander it.”

Chapter 6

Tim pulled out the crystal decanter of bourbon and pressed two glasses with his fingers. He wandered slowly to his brother and poured out the spirit. Jim swirled the glass, mesmerized by its maple-red tincture as it beamed in the low-lit study.

“Man, oh man! What a day!” Tim exhaled as he poured himself a glass and melted into his leather armchair. “I don’t what’s worse: not knowing what to do next or realizing you don’t have the mustard to get it done.” Jim sat silently tracing the exposed plumbing that snaked along the wall and ceiling. It must have taken forever to build this place.

“Look baby brother, I’ll get down to brass tacks here,” Tim continued. “We got a mighty fine thing going down here. Now we both agreed we would do this together and I know you had to take a break to do some soul-searching, and I’ve remained patient. But it’s time to move forward and show everyone the way. We need to go on the offensive, but I need your help. I got too many biscuits on my plate but not enough people to butter them. I want ya to join me as co-council leader.”

“I barely get enough time with Joe. I need to do a better job with him,” Jim replied. “I don’t know.”

“That’s precisely why I think this will be good for ya,” Tim countered. “We all go through tough times. Best way to dig out of them is to do what we do best. Get back to your old self!”

Jim looked up at his brother and took a large swig of his bourbon, “I don’t think I deserve it after what happened. Nothing is the same.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, you’re STILL hung up on that! He made his choice, don’t follow him down into the potter’s ground. And good riddance as far as I’m concerned,” Tim belched. “Let’s look forward to the future and our legacy,” he said, raising his glass.

How can I be confident of the future if I regret the past? Jim took a long pause before his sight gravitated towards the corner of the room. There hung a photograph of himself with his brother. It was taken the day they opened the Silo. They were both smiling. “I’ll think about it,” Jim conceited.

“That’s my baby brother,” Tim winked. “Cheers.”

The Dossier

The Way It Used To Be

Some Useful Thresholds For Ranking WRs & RBs

Chapter 1

Joe slept contently in his bed as a rock clinked and clacked its way down the air supply pipe before smacking him right between the eyes. “What the FRICK!” he exclaimed rubbing his forehead. Picking up the rock he remained motionless as he squinted into the pitch-black pipe. “It’s a BEAUTI-FUL MORN-ING! Ahhhh! I think I’ll stay inside for a while!” Jim shouted as he kicked in his son’s bedroom door. 

“I’m already awake Dad.”

“Well that’s good cause you’re late for class,” Jim replied. Jim was a tall man with broad shoulders and a noticeably poor posture. He often looked tired from spending countless hours researching and writing. He proudly wore his faded jeans and grey crewneck Lions sweatshirt every day.

“I still need to feed Sauron,” Joe replied looking over at his hamster, who often secluded himself in his solitary tower amongst his maze of tubes.

“I’ll feed him. Just get to class,” Jim said. “What are you learning about?”

“We’re still learning about rankings,” Joe said as he grabbed his green and yellow ballcap and hurried to the front door switch. 

“I’ll see ya later,” Jim mumbled as the steel hatch closed.

The classroom went dark momentarily until the blue light from the rear hologram tunneled its way to the front. There he was, flickering in the gloom and suspended in mid-air making an acrobatic catch over a defender.

“Alright! As you might have figured out by now, we are going to begin today’s lecture discussing historic wide-receiver thresholds!” the Coach bellowed. The Coach could be heard a mile away from the swishes of his windbreaker or the whistle he blew at unsuspecting students. “Here is our golden standard. Justin Jefferson. He is the WR all other WRs aspire to be and the one we measure all other WRs by. Now, being in our Silo, we can run billions of simulations with GPS tracking, we can refer to genetic testing performed on prospects at birth, consult KTC Brokers, or refer to Alpha Dog when creating our rankings. But those options weren’t available to dynasty players in the Old World. Your daddies used crude data points like height and weight to figure this stuff out.

“Let’s pretend the year is 2023. Using a minimum WR threshold of 5’9”, 180 lbs can anyone tell me how many top-12 WRs in PPR WoRP met that requirement?”

“All of them Coach!” a student blurted out.

“That’s right Larry,” Coach replied. “But what if we sort by the old-school PPR points per game?”

“Same result Coach!” Larry exclaimed.

“Obviously, this may be easy for some of ya like Larry, but this is the minimum threshold. The ideal threshold for a WR is 5’10”, 180 lbs. Where every inch counts, do our WoRP results change for the top 12?”

“No Coach!” a different student shouted. “Regardless if WoRP or PPR points per game sort the data, all the wide receivers in this sample meet the ideal threshold!”

“Nothing gets past you Barry!” Coach acclaimed. “Alrighty, let's move on…”

“Coach?” a voice cracked in the back row. “Aren’t there some WR 2’s and 3’s that don’t fit these thresholds?”

“Who said that?” The silence was deafening as Coach scanned the classroom.

“It’s Joe sir,” he said raising his hand. The overhead lights flashed on, disorienting the students.

“Well since you’re so curious, why don’t we have you do a little exercise for all of us Joe? Come to the front!”

Joe stood up awkwardly from his desk and marched to what felt like his execution. No student dared to make eye contact with Joe, afraid they would be swept up in the Coach’s trial. That is except the twins Larry and Barry, who made sure Joe noticed their shaking heads and grins.

“Now, I want you to write for all of us Joe the top 36 WRs from 2023 sorted by WoRP and PPG for both the minimum and ideal thresholds. We’ll wait,” Coach said with his arms folded.  

Joe began to write…

Minimum WR Thresholds: ≥ 5'9" , 180 lbs

WoRP (PPR)

(1-12) Hill, Lamb, Amon-Ra, Keenan, Puka, A.J., Evans, D.J., Aiyuk, Deebo, Adams, Pittman -- (13-24) Diggs, Amari, Nico, Chase, DeVonta = 6’0” 170 lbs (17th in PPR WoRP), Thielen, Olave, Metcalf, Waddle, Garrett, Pickens, Jefferson -- (25-36) Flowers, Hopkins, Addison = 5’11” 173 lbs (27th in PPR WoRP), Ridley, Kupp, Dell = 5’8” 165 lbs (30th in PPR WoRP), Rice, Jayden Reed, Jakobi, Godwin, London, McLaurin

0/12 = 0%

1/24 = 4.17% 

3/36 = 8.33%

PPG (PPR)

(1-12) Lamb, Hill, Keenan, Amon-Ra, Jefferson, Puka, Nico, AJ, DJ, Mike Williams, Evans, Chase -- (13-24) Deebo, Diggs, Adams, Pittman, Aiyuk, Amari, Dell = 5’8” 165 lbs (19th in PPR PPG), Olave, DeVonta = 6’0” 170 lbs (21st in PPR PPG), Waddle, Metcalf, Jakobi -- (25-36) Kupp, Thielen, Jayden Reed, Ridley, Rice, Hopkins, Addison = 5’11” 173 lbs (31st in PPR PPG), Flowers, Garrett, Kirk, Bourne, Godwin

0/12 = 0%

2/24 = 8.33% 

3/36 = 8.33%

Ideal WR Thresholds: ≥ 5'10", 180 lbs

WoRP (PPR)

(1-12) Hill, Lamb, Amon-Ra, Keenan, Puka, A.J., Evans, D.J., Aiyuk, Deebo, Adams, Pittman -- (13-24) Diggs, Amari, Nico, Chase, DeVonta = 6’0” 170 lbs (17th in PPR WoRP), Thielen, Olave, Metcalf, Waddle = 5’9” 180 lbs (21st in PPR WoRP), Garrett, Pickens, Jefferson -- (25-36) Flowers = 5’9” 182 lbs (25th in PPR WoRP), Hopkins, Addison = 5’11” 173 lbs (27th in PPR WoRP), Ridley, Kupp, Dell = 5’8” 165 lbs (30th in PPR WoRP), Rice, Jayden Reed, Jakobi, Godwin, London, McLaurin

0/12 = 0%

2/24 = 8.33% 

5/36 = 13.89%

PPG (PPR)

(1-12) Lamb, Hill, Keenan, Amon-Ra, Jefferson, Puka, Nico, AJ, DJ, Mike Williams, Evans, Chase -- (13-24) Deebo, Diggs, Adams, Pittman, Aiyuk, Amari, Dell = 5’8” 165 lbs (19th in PPR PPG), Olave, DeVonta = 6’0” 170 lbs (21st in PPR PPG), Waddle = 5’9” 180 lbs (22nd in PPR PPG), Metcalf, Jakobi -- (25-36) Kupp, Thielen, Jayden Reed, Ridley, Rice, Hopkins, Addison = 5’11” 173 lbs (31st in PPR PPG), Flowers = 5’9” 182 lbs (32nd in PPR PPG), Garrett, Kirk, Bourne, Godwin 

0/12 = 0%

3/24 = 12.5% 

5/36 = 13.89%

“Can you tell us what you notice about these players that fall outside the threshold Joe?” Coach asked. Joe looked at the screen before ultimately shaking his head.

“They are all BETAS!” Larry hollered. 

“Do we care about beta’s or outliers?” Coach posed to the class with his eyes fixed on Joe.

“NO!” the whole class said in unison.

“In case you forgot Joe, only the gamblers that walk above your head put their hopes in outliers. You do care about winning, don’t ya?”

“What about running backs Coach?”

“I guess not,” Coach exhaled. “How about after class, you can repeat this same exercise for RBs and captivate anyone interested in learning about a dead position. Take your seat.”

Joe kept his head down for the rest of the class, wondering why he couldn’t help but disagree and make a fool of himself constantly. 

At the end of the lecture, Joe diligently typed out the entire RB list. He noticed that very few top RBs didn’t fit the minimum threshold, but a significantly higher percentage of RBs didn’t fall within the classic ideal archetype in 2023. After finishing and excited to share his findings, he looked up to find that only the chairs and desks stuck around with bated breath.

Minimum RB Thresholds: ≥ 5'7", 198 lbs

WoRP (PPR)

(1-12) McCaffrey, Kyren 5’9” 194 lbs (2nd in PPR WoRP), Mostert, Breece, Etienne, Rachaad, Cook, Henry, Bijan, Barkley, Gibbs, Kamara -- (13-24) Mixon, Pollard, Pacheco, Ford, Brian Robinson, Swift, Walker, Montgomery, Achane = 5’9” 188 lbs (21st in PPR WoRP), Ekeler, Conner, Warren    

1/12 = 8.33%

2/24 = 8.33%

PPG (PPR)

(1-12) McCaffrey, Kyren 5’9” 194 lbs (2nd in PPR PPG), Kamara, Mostert, Achane = 5’9” 188 lbs (5th in PPR PPG), Breece, Etienne, Gibbs, Barkley, Rachaad, Mixon, Taylor -- (13-24) Conner, Pacheco, Montgomery, Henry, Bijan, Jacobs, Cook, Walker, Brian Robinson, Ekeler, Pollard, Swift

2/12 = 16.67%

2/24 = 8.33%

Ideal RB Thresholds: 5'9", 210 lbs

WoRP (PPR)

(1-12) McCaffrey = 5’11” 202 lbs (1st in PPR WoRP), Kyren 5’9” 194 lbs (2nd in PPR WoRP), Mostert = 5’11” 205 lbs (3rd in PPR WoRP), Breece, Etienne, Rachaad, Cook = 5’11” 199 lbs (7th in PPR WoRP), Henry, Bijan, Barkley, Gibbs = 5’9” 199 lbs (11th in PPR WoRP), Kamara -- (13-24) Pollard, Pacheco, Ford, Brian Robinson, Swift = 5’8”  212 lbs (18th in PPR WoRP), Walker, Montgomery, Achane = 5’9” 188 lbs (21st in PPR WoRP), Ekeler = 5’9” 199 (22nd in PPR WoRP), Conner, Warren = 5’8” 207 lbs

5/12 = 41.67%

9/24 = 37.5% 

PPG (PPR)

(1-12) McCaffrey = 5’11” 202 lbs (1st in PPR PPG), Kyren 5’9” 194 lbs (2nd in PPR PPG), Kamara, Mostert = 5’11” 205 lbs (4th in PPR PPG), Achane = 5’9” 188 lbs (5th in PPR PPG), Breece, Etienne, Gibbs = 5’9” 199 lbs (8th in PPR PPG), Barkley, Rachaad, Mixon, Taylor -- (13-24) Conner, Pacheco, Montgomery, Henry, Bijan, Jacobs, Cook = 5’11” 199 lbs (19th in PPR PPG), Walker, Brian Robinson, Ekeler = 5’9” 199 (22nd in PPR PPG), Pollard, Swift = 5’8”  212 lbs (24th in PPR PPG)

5/12 = 41.67%

8/24 = 33.33%

Chapter 2

Joe sat silently at his modest dinner table, scrunching his toes on the AstroTurf carpet. The sound of Jim’s record player bounced gently off the riveted lead-cased walls. He played Humperdinck when he felt particularly sentimental.

“What’s wrong Joe? You barely touched your party wings.”

“Dad, what was 2023 like for RBs?” Joe asked.

“Well, let’s see,” Joe said as he rubbed his goatee. “Lots of great backs were in the twilight of their careers. Kamara, Ekeler, Mixon, and Conner all enjoyed their final year of relevance. They all fell off hard in 2024. The great PFF historian Tej Seth discovered that most RBs have negative rushing yards over expected (RYOE) after their rookie contracts in year five. Some of the elites can keep it up in year six, but an RB staying productive through year seven is extremely rare. Barkley enjoyed a nice season with the Eagles. And of course, there was Henry with the Ravens! Man, what a season he had in his ninth year!”

“Nine years!?!” Joe said intrigued.

“Oh Ya! Over 2,000 career carries at that point. He hung in there while most other runners saw negative RYOE after 1,500 career carries. Jacobs and CMC didn’t last much longer after 2024. It was the end of an era. Only a few workhorses stuck around after that in the Old World.” Jim stared solemnly into the small, rounded television. He could picture the vintage football clips from the early 21st century playing in black and white.

“Everyone got mad at me in class cause I questioned thresholds. Coach said outliers and betas are for the gamblers out there,” Joe said.

“You know, one of the best players of all time was an outlier. He was also RB, no less,” Jim said pointing to a poster in the corner of the room. “Barry Sanders was not an ideal size at 5,8” and 203 lbs. He was the smallest player to ever win MVP. There’s never been a player like him since.” Jim paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “He was your grandfather’s favorite player. It’s the reason why I’m a Detroit fan. You have to understand Joe, people don’t like outliers because it tests their process. But sometimes, you Can’t Help Falling In Love, as someone once said. For some, it’s a lot easier to act like unicorns aren’t real.”

Joe laughed, “But unicorns aren’t real Dad.”

Jim smiled, “I’ll finish your wings. Go finish your homework.”

“Oh Dad, one last thing. My classmates were down in the archives. Who’s Brandi Love?”

“She was also an MVP son.”

Chapter 3

The metal cushioned chair squeaked as Joe rocked back and forth. With his arms folded behind his head, he watched his ceiling fan and contemplated his homework assignment. The prompt was straightforward but wasn’t easy: define the characteristics of a historical #1 at any position. Pouring over his history books, he came across the records of Peter Howard, Mike Liu, and Drew Osinchuk from the 2020s. Knowing precisely who asserted the following has been lost to the annals of history:

“There are five characteristics necessary to be the top-performing RB. 

1. Must have an elite trait (90th percentile 40-yard dash, Speed Score, Burst Score, or Agility Score.)

2. Must have a 75th percentile or better College Dominator Rating or at least one season in the NFL with a top 10 Dominator rating (above 34%).

3. Top 5 in Target Share amongst RBs (above 10.6%).

4. Top 5 in Snap Share (above 68.6%)

5. Top 5 in Red Zone touches.

Based on this data, Christian McCaffrey, Saquon Barkley, and Jonathan Taylor are strong candidates to be the top RB in 2024. Bijan Robinson has a path to being the best runner if the new regime in Atlanta can provide the sophomore elite Red Zone opportunities. Breece Hall is the final contender vying to be the best back in 2024. His main hurdles will be Red Zone opportunities and a top 5 Snap Share.” 

I wonder who the best was in 2024? But before Joe could turn the page, his motion was interrupted by a familiar sound. This time, it was a bottle cap that journeyed its way to his soft pillow. Inspecting the red cola emblem, Joe turned his gaze to the cold metal slats of the round vent. He removed the cover and looked up into the dark void.

“Hello?”

The Dossier