Babblin Brooks Online_____________________
By Rick Brooks

      I've got those old "Jack McDowell on the disabled list plus Brian Giles on the bench for Tony Clark" blues. Why does nobody ever offer me a trade that I want to accept? Whatever happened to the good old days of "Make me an offer that I can't refuse"?

I'm really getting tired of stuff like "Tim Belcher for Mark McGwire." And "Tim Wakefield for Kenny Lofton" and "Tim Nobodyyoueverheardof for Guyyoutookfirstinthedraft" and "Tim Intheslumpofhislife for Guyyoupaidthirtyeightdollarsfor." Has this ever happened to you? Just every other day, right?

As a veteran of 21 rotisserie teams, nothing -- and I do mean nothing, including finishing last -- has stirred up so many negative emotions in me as trades, whether only proposed or actually completed. I have often longed for a no-trade league in order to lessen the effect on my blood pressure. Alas, I'm still searching. And still making trades.

Let's examine the main stages of fielding and responding to trade offers.

First, there's the initial anger phase (see above). "I can't believe that sonuvagun proposed that! What a waste of time and energy and bandwidth! Martha, come and look at this... Can you believe this @#$%!?"

After the initial shock wears off, there's the rational analysis phase, unless the matchup is so far-fetched as to be ludicrous (see above). Then it's "Well, I don't want to do this, but maybe I'll just look at it a little bit." What ensues is hours of intense research, involving The Baseball Register, The Major League Handbook, The Minor League Handbook, and a Ouija board.

Then comes the bend-over-backwards phase... "Well, I don't really want to do this -- but I do want my fellow owners to like me -- so just this once I'm gonna go along with it, even though he's getting the better end of it." Does $24 worth of beads ring a bell?

Then comes the bend-over-frontwards phase, as in "Bend over and kiss your butt (and your pennant) good-bye!" You just traded your hopes down the river so some jackass who's never going to like you anyway (much less respect you), <i>will</i> like you. Like you? You should have said "Like this, fella!"

And so we come to the final phase: "What, me worry?" That's right, worry -- you have never experienced fantasy-sports worry until you have worried yourself sick over a trade. It's "That sneaky guy didn't get the best of me, did he? Surely to goodness I didn't blow my pennant with that Tom Glavine for Trevor Hoffman deal, did I? I'll show you how to pull the trigger!"

Now you not only have performance anxiety over your own player, you have an equal (really much worse) anti-performance anxiety over the guy you just traded. "He didn't hit another home run, did he? Oh, no! He did it again? Where's that 40-ounce malt liquor I was drinking?"

You get the picture. With me, it's nerve city where trades are concerned. If that's the case with you, too, just chugalug some more Pepto Bismol and check that e-mail, buddy. Happy trading!

Rick Brooks manages the Brooks Flood in the Huntsville Fantasy Baseball League.
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