Bow Down, Peasants: Saquon Still King
Alright, listen up, you fantasy football-addicted goblins. ESPN’s Jeremy Fowler (who I’m now convinced is powered by pure spite and Red Bull) dropped his annual running back rankings, and guess what? Saquon Barkley, that majestic beast of burden now tragically yoked to the Philadelphia Eagles, is still perched atop the throne. I swear, if I have to watch another highlight reel of him hurdling linebackers, I might just move to Canada. (No offense, Canada. You seem nice.)
Fowler, bless his heart (and his sources, who are probably just AI bots at this point), compiles this list based on whispers from NFL executives, scouts, and coaches. Apparently, everyone except some rogue sentient stapler voted Barkley number one. Number ONE! The man becomes just the ninth player EVER to eclipse the 2,000-yard mark in a single season. Should we be shocked? I, for one, am in shock. Is it from being over-caffeinated? Or is it the anxiety that comes with knowing that my team is, as always, second-rate? Who knows!
“It was almost like this was expected—he was always expected to be this,” some anonymous NFL personnel director whined to Fowler. “You can call it confirmation bias.” Confirmation bias? More like mass delusion! This is like saying we all knew the Titanic was unsinkable. (Narrator voice: It was, in fact, very sinkable.)
The Rising Tide of Henry and Gibbs (and My Impending Heart Attack)
But wait, there’s more! (As if my blood pressure could handle it.) Derrick Henry, now somehow even more terrifying in a Baltimore Ravens uniform, clawed his way to second place. And Jahmyr Gibbs, that Detroit Lions sparkplug, leaped all the way to third! Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure my own ranking of running backs involves scribbling names on napkins during increasingly panicked fits of rage. But hey, who’s asking me?
Derrick Henry, Houston Texans, and other running backs made a move up the charts.
Source: sportingnews.com
Speaking of Henry, apparently, people actually doubted if he would hold up after lugging the ball 1,529 times in the last four years. Are you KIDDING me? The man is a freight train made of muscle and pure spite. He runs over defenders like they’re speed bumps on the highway to hell! 1,921 yards and a league-best 16 touchdowns? Yeah, he answered those skeptics alright. (With a resounding “OOF” from the poor souls who tried to tackle him.)
McCaffrey’s Descent: Achilles, PCL, and My Existential Dread
But not everyone’s story is sunshine and roses. Christian McCaffrey, that meticulously crafted Swiss Army knife of a running back for the San Francisco 49ers, plummeted from first to fifth. Apparently, a couple of pesky injuries – Achilles tendinitis and a PCL thingamajigger – have turned him into damaged goods. (Like that limited-edition action figure you accidentally left in the sun.)
“He’s a great player, but he’s always had durability issues, even in college,” another executive (who probably wears socks with sandals) sniped. “He’s just not a big body and will lose a step eventually.” Oh, thanks, Nostradamus! I didn’t realize that human bodies were fragile and subject to the ravages of time and the unrelenting brutality of the NFL! (Maybe we should just replace all the players with robots. Problem solved!)
Hey, remember back when the Atlanta Falcons thought that Bijan Robinson was going to take them to the promised land. I do. I remember laughing. Good times.
What Does It All Mean? (Besides My Inevitable Therapy Bills)
So, what does this all mean, besides confirming my deeply held belief that the universe is a cruel and capricious mistress? It means that the running back position, despite constant attempts to devalue it, is still capable of producing kings, rising stars, and tragic falls from grace. It means that Saquon Barkley, whether you love him or loathe him (and I’m currently teetering somewhere in between), is still a force to be reckoned with.
But more importantly (at least to me, clinging desperately to the shreds of my fading sanity), it highlights the razor-thin margin between glory and oblivion in the NFL. One wrong step, one ill-timed tackle, one rogue Achilles tendon, and you’re relegated to the “whatever happened to?” file. It’s a brutal reminder that these athletes, these gladiators of the gridiron, are ultimately just human. (Which makes their superhuman feats all the more impressive… and infuriating.)
Mailbag Time! (Where I Humiliate Myself Further)
“Hey Drew, do you think my fantasy team is doomed if I draft a running back with a history of paper cuts?”
Yes. Yes, you absolute moron. Draft a lineman! Draft a kicker! Draft a sentient tackling dummy! Just don’t draft someone who’s more likely to end up on injured reserve than in the end zone. (Unless you enjoy the soul-crushing agony of watching your season slowly slip away. In that case, carry on.)
“Drew, if running backs are so easily replaceable, why should I even care about these rankings?”
Because you’re a glutton for punishment, just like the rest of us! We crave the drama, the narratives, the endless debates over who’s the best at running really fast while carrying an oblong ball. It’s the NFL, baby! It’s a soap opera disguised as a sport! (And I wouldn’t have it any other way.)
The Inevitable Conclusion (and My Plea for Help)
So, there you have it. The NFL’s running back landscape, as filtered through the twisted lens of my perpetually unraveling psyche. Saquon is still the king (for now), Henry is still terrifying, McCaffrey is slightly less terrifying but still probably pretty good, and I’m still in desperate need of a vacation. And maybe a lobotomy. Stay tuned for more unhinged sports takes next week! (Assuming I haven’t been committed to an asylum by then.)
NFL rankings can change on any given week as new injuries and stars emerge.
Source: sportingnews.com