Vegas, The FSTA & More
I normally don’t go provocative with my titles, but I almost put “hookers” in the headline. Why is that? No, it’s not because there’s a charge on my American Express card over the weekend, but I was in Vegas for the past few days and there was a ton that went on. There were radio shows, baseball drafts, networking, booze, the aforementioned hookers, an a plethora of good times. I’ll hit on some of the highlights of the event in this piece. In Part II, I’ll break down the FSTA Experts Baseball Draft that took place and tell you how I felt my team turned out. In Part III, I’ll take a look at how others in the draft evaluated players to give you some insights on what the “experts” are thinking when it comes to a host of other players. Here we go.
I arrived on Saturday and went straight to the UNLV campus where I joined 
Jeff Mans for three hours on the Fantasy Alarm Show on SiriusXM Fantasy Sports Radio. We rocked it for three hours, pulled the same trick on Sunday as well, and let me tell you the studios there rock. Thanks to Fantasy Alarm, and Jeff in particular, for letting me tag along all weekend with them. They certainly classed me up.
Thanks to Matt Deutsch, program director of SiriusXM. Not only did he and Rob Touzet run a tight ship that made all of the on-site broadcasts we did enjoyable, those two also know how to have a good time when the microphones are off.
Thanks to Kyle Elfrink and Kay Adams, my capable co-hosts. Kay was the belle of the ball, who can blame anyone for thinking that way since she is about four levels above the rest of us in attractiveness, and Kyle just did his thing like he always does – smooth my friend.
I’d like to thanks Mike Beacom an everyone at the Fantasy Sports Writers Association for awarding me the 2011 Best Baseball Series Award. I knew I was one of the three finalists but I thought I had no chance to win, so I made a bet. If I won I would have to carry around my trophy all night. You’d be surprised at how many women weren’t that impressed with the striking trophy, but the right ones were and that is all that counts. A special thanks also goes out to Peter Schoenke of Rotowire.com for nominating me for the award. Finally, thanks to Matthew Berry of ESPN. For some reason he keeps talking up my BaseballGuys’ Twitter Account as something you have to be following. If you aren’t following get on it or Matthew will be coming after you.
Thank you all.
Here are some other highlights, in no particular order, that occurred over the weekend (and yes, names have been altered to protect identities, though the stories are 100 percent accurate).
At some point we ended up at 7-Eleven and bought the king of all fruity drinks – the Blue Hawaiian by Boone’s.
I had no idea that I was such a good dancer. A highlight of the time on the dance floor was when I approached a pretty brunette. I was just about ready to get my “grind on” when an older woman barged in to cut off my path to the beauty. Turned out it was her mom. I’m not an ageist or anything, but how did I end up dancing with a 58 year old woman, in Vegas of all places? I didn’t find out if she wanted to be my sugar momma.
A lady stopped by our table at a club and offered us blow. We declined. That same lady also offered to “party” with us all night if you get my drift. We declined. When she asked us to sign her breast and buttocks with a sharpie, we happily accepted.
A certain person, let’s call him “Jeff,” and I were out at Treasure Island at about 3 AM on Wednesday morning. We were approached, not by one, but by two groups of ladies of the night. I particularly liked it when one of them said, stealing my best line, that ‘I look really good naked.’ Apparently “Jeff” an I looked like desperate marks.
When you find a bar that allows you to enter for $20 dollars and then get free drinks for the next two an a half hours you go in, even if there isn’t a single woman in there that you’d want to spend the night with. We took our own advice and probably had about 25 vodka and Red Bull’s between us.
I had no idea that people play spin the bottle after high school, but apparently when you’re in your 30′s, an in Vegas, you do still play, an in clubs no less. Why does that damn glass, no matter how many times I spin it, ever end up pointing me toward the hot gal? Where was my luck Vegas?
By Ray Flowers
