Week 10

PATIENT FILE: COTCH11
Record: 3–15
Symptoms: Confusing roster outcomes, emotional damage, persistent “but I swear this could work” energy
Affected organs (players): Baker Mayfield, Saquon Barkley, Matthew Golden

SEWIFFL GENERAL — DIAGNOSTIC ROOM OF PERPETUAL SADNESS

House enters first, tossing the chart on the table like he’s offended it exists.

HOUSE:
Cotch11.
Record: terrible.
Roster: confusing.
Outlook: bleak.

JD (flipping through the chart):
I mean… Baker Mayfield has been solid.
Efficient. Commanding the offense.
He’s playing like he found confidence and just—kept it.

HOUSE (deadpan):
Nobody plays well in Tampa Bay. Not even the sunshine.

DR. COX (smirking):
Oh, here we go. House has decided reality is optional again.

HOUSE:
Baker Mayfield is the football version of fast food. It gets you through the day. It does not get you to the playoffs.

JD (defensive):
But he’s reading defenses well. He’s protecting the ball. He’s supporting fantasy output.

DR. COX:
I can't believe I'm saying this, but Newbie’s right.
Baker is… competent.

House freezes.

HOUSE (horrified):
That’s worse.
Bad quarterbacks are predictable.
Competent-but-not-explosive quarterbacks are fantasy quicksand.

SAQUON BARKLEY

JD:
Saquon has elite talent.

HOUSE:
Yes. And he shares an offense with chaos and questionable decision-making.

DR. COX:
Like putting a chandelier in a treehouse.

MATTHEW GOLDEN

House peers at the name like it’s an IKEA instruction sheet.

HOUSE:
Matthew Golden.
A future asset.
A “one day this will matter” pick.

JD:
There’s potential!

HOUSE:
Potential is just failure that hasn’t happened yet.

DIAGNOSTIC CONCLUSION

House starts scribbling on the whiteboard.

HOUSE:
Here’s the problem:
This team isn’t bad because of one player.

He writes while speaking:

“MISALIGNED CONFIDENCE DISORDER.”

HOUSE:
They’re good enough to believe, not good enough to win.

JD (softly):
That’s… heartbreak.

DR. COX:
That’s fantasy football.

HOUSE:
This roster is like a car that starts every time you turn the key,
but never gets above 40 miles an hour.

JD:
Steady isn’t bad!

HOUSE:
It is when everyone else is driving racecars.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

Cotch11 suffers from “Hope-Powered Lineup syndrome.”

Symptoms:

• Rooting for competence instead of domination
  
  

• Living bailout-to-bailout instead of explosion-to-explosion
  
  

• Starting solid players and still losing by 18
  
  

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Embrace volatility.
   
   

2. Stop starting “safe” players who score like bottled water tastes.
   
   

3. Swing for upside — there’s nothing to protect.
   
   

DR. COX (patting JD on the shoulder):
Newbie, sometimes solid isn’t enough.

HOUSE (heading for the exit):
Fantasy football doesn’t reward “solid.”
It rewards terrifying.

PATIENT FILE: JOE BUCK YOURSELF
Record: 14–4
Symptoms: Excessive confidence, inflated ego, chronic winning
Notable organs affected (players): Josh Allen, Puka Nacua, Ja’Marr Chase

INT. SEWIFFL GENERAL HOSPITAL — DIAGNOSTIC ROOM

House enters, flipping the chart like he’s annoyed the patient even exists.

HOUSE:
Oh look. A healthy team. How boring.

JD (internal monologue):
Wow, their roster looks amazing. I bet they have matching towels and a scented candle named “Victory.”
(out loud)
Your team has… strong bones? Like, uh… fantasy calcium?

DR. COX:
Newbie, please stop describing football rosters like a yogurt commercial.

HOUSE:
Josh Allen. Puka Nacua. Ja’Marr Chase.
Why are we even seeing this patient? This isn’t a medical emergency. It’s a parade.

House looks at the labs.

HOUSE:
Josh Allen has “Plays Like a Demigod Except on Random Thursdays” syndrome.
Puka Nacua has “McVay Experiment Success Disorder.”
And Chase…
(reads chart solemnly)
…has Burrow Withdrawal Tremors when his quarterback is injured.

JD:
But overall, the roster looks unstoppable!

DR. COX (to JD):
Sweet Martha Stewart’s salad tongs, Newbie. Don’t you see the real condition here?
This team has a severe case of Performance-Induced Arrogance.

HOUSE:
It’s terminal.

JD:
Terminal arrogance?

HOUSE:
Yeah. Patients like this start to believe the universe conspires to help them win. They say things like
“Doesn’t matter who I start, I just win.”

DR. COX:
They stop checking matchups.
They stop caring.
They ignore red flags like Allen scoring six points in the rain.
They coast.

House leans in, smug.

HOUSE:
And then?
They lose in the playoffs to someone starting Gardner Minshew.

JD:
Like a Greek tragedy… but with mustache flair.

DR. COX:
Final diagnosis?

HOUSE:
“Early Peak Syndrome.”
Highly contagious.
Usually cured by a catastrophic Week 15 meltdown.

House signs the chart.

HOUSE:
Treatment:
Absolutely nothing.
Just… wait.

JD:
You mean—

HOUSE:
The collapse will take care of itself.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

Joe Buck Yourself suffers from “Premature Championship Confidence.”
Symptoms include:

• Acting like the regular season matters
  
  

• Starting Josh Allen without fear of consequences
  
  

• Believing nothing bad will ever happen
  
  

Recommended treatment:

• Tighten lineup decisions
  
  

• Reduce ego swelling
  
  

• Prepare for emotional devastation in playoffs

PATIENT FILE: PEEPING THOMAS
Record: 6–12
Symptoms: Emotional confusion, weekly existential crisis despite solid production, inability to understand coaching decisions
Affected organs (players): Drake Maye, Tee Higgins, Derrick Henry

INT. SEWIFFL GENERAL — DIAGNOSTIC ROOM FOR “THIS SHOULD BE WORKING”

The exam room lights flicker. A printed spreadsheet hangs on the whiteboard labeled:
“This is fine.”
But the “fine” is crossed out and replaced with:
“WHY ISN’T THIS FINE?”

House enters, tosses the chart on the table.

HOUSE (reading):
Drake Maye.
Playing well. Handling pressure. Making throws.
Which makes no sense, because this roster is still losing.

JD (glowing like a proud kindergarten teacher):
  He’s actually been incredible. Poised. Accurate. Electric.
  Like… a football lighthouse guiding lost fantasy managers home.

DR. COX:
 Newbie, stop romanticizing. He’s not a lighthouse. He’s a quarterback who has temporarily chosen violence.

HOUSE:
And yet, this quarterback is doing his job.
A novel concept.

House flips to Tee Higgins’ page.

HOUSE:
Tee Higgins.
Putting up numbers even without Burrow slinging the ball.

DR. COX (genuinely impressed):
He succeeded without his franchise QB.
Most wide receivers crumble.
He… evolved.

JD:
He’s like a butterfly that learned route concepts.

HOUSE (glaring):
No metaphors.
He’s a wide receiver doing what wide receivers are paid to do, which is:
produce points.

House flips to the Derrick Henry page.

He stops.

Silent beat.

HOUSE:
Why isn’t Baltimore feeding him the ball?

DR. COX:
I ask myself that every Sunday.
I pace the room.
I yell at the TV.
I frighten the neighbors.

JD (earnestly):
He’s still Derrick Henry!
Give him the ball, and he pulverizes defensive souls!

HOUSE:
Instead, they use him like a decorative plant.
There for vibes, not utility.

DR. COX:
It’s malpractice.
Run the ball.
He’s a large, angry man.
Let him be a large, angry man.

House stands in front of the whiteboard and begins writing:

“THIS ROSTER IS DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT AND STILL LOSING.”

JD (reading):
So… what’s the diagnosis?

HOUSE:
It’s rare.
It’s serious.
It’s called:

“Statistically Correct Emotional Failure Syndrome.”

DR. COX:
Translation:
The roster is good.
The coaching decisions around it are stupid.

JD:
So Peeping Thomas is doing the right things?

HOUSE:
Yes.
And it still doesn’t matter.
Fantasy football is chaos.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

Peeping Thomas suffers from “Unfair Universe Disorder.”

Symptoms:

• Good QB play

• Tee Higgins producing like an alpha

• Derrick Henry not being used like a sledgehammer despite still being a sledgehammer

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Keep starting these players — THEY are not the issue.

2. Avoid watching Ravens games live — blood pressure cannot sustain it.

3. Stop asking “why.” The universe does not care.

HOUSE (heading for the door):
Your roster is fine.
Reality is the problem.

PATIENT FILE: THE SALTY SPITOON
Record: 10–6
Symptoms: Elevated aggression in scoring patterns, confidence bordering on delusion, emotional whiplash mid-game
Affected organs (players): Bo Nix, Jahmyr Gibbs, CeeDee Lamb

SEWIFFL GENERAL — ANGER MANAGEMENT & SCOREBOARD TRAUMA UNIT

The unit looks like someone built a clinic inside a weight room.
Dumbbells on the floor.
Sports drinks everywhere.
A punching bag in the corner that has almost certainly been hit after lineup decisions.

House steps in, glancing around like he’s unsure whether this is a medical wing or a CrossFit commercial.

HOUSE:
Bo Nix. Jahmyr Gibbs. CeeDee Lamb.
This team doesn’t want to win — it wants to assert dominance.

JD (brightly):
Bo Nix is efficient! He’s calm!
He plays like he’s defusing a bomb every snap and just… doesn’t panic!

HOUSE:
That’s called a functioning quarterback, Newbie.
We’re not giving out medals for doing your job.

DR. COX:
But we might give one out to the manager for surviving this emotional rollercoaster of an offense.
This roster’s weekly scoring graph looks like a seismograph during an earthquake.

JAHMYR GIBBS

House taps Gibbs’ page on the folder.

HOUSE:
Gibbs is a highlight reel stitched together with caffeine and poor defensive angles.

JD:
He has burst! He has balance! He has—

HOUSE:
He has the attention span of lightning.
Touch…
Boom.
Sixteen yards.
Gone.

DR. COX:
He is fantasy football’s equivalent of a sugar rush.
Too much, and you puke.

CEEDEE LAMB

House flips to CeeDee’s page.

HOUSE:
CeeDee Lamb.
Consistent. Reliable. A metronome.

JD (shrugging):
But no monster games.

HOUSE:
Exactly.
He’s not bad.
He’s just… polite.

DR. COX:
He produces like he’s afraid to cause a scene.
Eight catches. Seventy yards.
Never a disaster, never a parade.

HOUSE:
CeeDee Lamb is the human version of a B+.

House turns toward the whiteboard and writes:

“THIS TEAM WINS THROUGH AGGRESSIVE MODERATION.”

JD:
That sounds like a workout program.

HOUSE:
It’s a fantasy roster with a personality disorder.

DR. COX:
They don't lose big.
They don't win big.
They just… grind you down emotionally until you question why you play this game.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

The Salty Spitoon suffers from “Controlled Violence Syndrome.”

Symptoms:

• Bo Nix thinks “taking what the defense gives” is a personality trait
  
  

• Jahmyr Gibbs detonates randomly
  
  

• CeeDee Lamb will get you 14 points whether you like it or not
  
  

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Accept your identity: death by 1,000 moderate performances.
   
   

2. Stop waiting for CeeDee to drop 35. He’s not that guy this year.
   
   

3. Try not to punch drywall during games. It's expensive.
   
   

HOUSE (heading out):
The Salty Spitoon doesn’t blow opponents out.
It wears them down with consistency and spite.

PATIENT FILE: THE BEARDED CLAMS
Record: 6–12
Symptoms: Premature confidence fluctuations, emotional codependency on one superstar, disbelief in reality
Affected organs (players): Christian McCaffrey, Josh Jacobs, Kyle Pitts

SEWIFFL GENERAL — “IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING?” EXAM ROOM

The room is dimly lit, a slow rotating spotlight sweeping across framed newspaper clips of McCaffrey touchdown runs like a shrine.
House walks in, not impressed.
JD walks in, immediately impressed.
Cox walks in, already annoyed.

HOUSE (reviewing chart):
Christian McCaffrey.
Josh Jacobs.
Kyle Pitts.
This reads like a fantasy fever dream.

JD (genuine awe):
McCaffrey is… beautiful.
He’s poetry in motion.
Every time he touches the ball, I feel hope.

HOUSE:
He’s the closest thing fantasy managers have to a guaranteed hug.

DR. COX:
And that’s adorable, Newbie, but don't get attached.
Because the moment you emotionally invest in a running back who touches the ball thirty times a game—

HOUSE (cuts him off):
—he becomes one awkward tackle away from your season turning into a group therapy session.

They all nod solemnly.

JOSH JACOBS

House flips to the next page.

HOUSE:
Josh Jacobs.
Scoring touchdowns at a suspicious rate this year.

JD:
He’s like a vending machine that only dispenses touchdowns!

DR. COX:
Impossible.
Jacobs does not score this consistently.
This is witchcraft.

HOUSE:
Actually… he’s been efficient at the goal line.

DR. COX (pointing, furious):
Don’t you dare normalize this.
I've seen this man rush for 16 carries and 47 yards!
Now he’s suddenly Walter Payton within five yards of the end zone?

JD:
People grow.
They evolve.

DR. COX:
Running backs don’t evolve, Newbie.
They just get used up like printer toner.

KYLE PITTS

House slowly turns the page.
They all stare at the stat sheet.

HOUSE (whispering):
No.
No no no.
This can’t be real.

JD:
He’s producing.
Consistently.

DR. COX:
No he isn’t.

HOUSE:
The data says he is.

DR. COX (shouting):
THE DATA IS LYING.

JD (softly, to Cox):
It’s okay. Breathe. Let the numbers in.

Cox grabs the chart and crumples it.

DR. COX:
Kyle Pitts does not produce.
Kyle Pitts gives you emotional hemorrhoids.
Whatever this chart says?
I refuse to accept it.

HOUSE:
We are facing a medical impossibility.
Kyle Pitts… is a healthy part of a functioning fantasy roster.

JD:
It’s like seeing a unicorn.
With red zone usage.

Cox walks to the window, staring into the void.

DR. COX:
Everything I know is wrong.

CHRISTIAN McCAFFREY

House returns to the top sheet again even though nothing changed.

HOUSE:
McCaffrey is perfection.
He touches the ball and you feel like life has meaning.

JD:
He makes me believe in love.

DR. COX:
He makes me believe in cortisone injections.

HOUSE:
But here’s the problem…

House writes on the board:

IF McCAFFREY GETS HURT, IT’S OVER.

HOUSE:
This roster runs on McCaffrey’s legs.
If those legs decide to take a week off?

DR. COX:
The entire roster becomes a tragic indie film.

JD:
With Kyle Pitts as the surprise emotional center.

DR. COX:
Stop speaking that into existence.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

The Bearded Clams suffer from “Single Superstar Dependency With Unexpected Tight End Stability.”

Symptoms:

• McCaffrey is carrying everything, including morale
  
  

• Jacobs scoring touchdowns has thrown everyone emotionally off-balance
  
  

• Kyle Pitts producing has shattered medical science and Cox’s worldview
  
  

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Wrap McCaffrey in bubble wrap on non-game days.
   
   

2. Emotionally brace for Kyle Pitts regression (Cox refuses to accept the alternative).
   
   

3. Accept Jacobs’ touchdowns, don’t ask questions.
   
   

HOUSE (heading out):
This team isn’t living on the edge.
It is the edge.

PATIENT FILE: POWDERHOUNDMALS
Record: 11–5
Symptoms: Sudden scoring avalanches, emotional high-altitude swagger, excessive belief in destiny
Affected organs (players): Jonathan Taylor, Zay Flowers, Jordan Love

SEWIFFL GENERAL — “POLICY NIGHTMARE” EXAM ROOM

The room looks nothing like a medical clinic.
Fake snow falls from vents in the ceiling.
A trail of ski wax shavings leads to a boot dryer plugged into a wall outlet that is definitely not up to code.

House stops in the doorway, staring.

HOUSE:
Who authorized this?
Why do we suddenly allow theme rooms?
This is a hospital, not a chalet for people with emotional attachment to their fantasy roster.

DR. COX (annoyed):
This violates at least seven workplace safety rules.
And three sanity ones.

JD (internal monologue):
Wow. A personalized patient room.
Imagine if my patients had rooms like this.
Maybe one themed like a beach… or a café…
Someplace warm.
Someplace where I can finally breathe—

HOUSE (snapping):
Newbie, stop narrating your feelings like you’re auditioning for a perfume commercial.

JD pretends he was not absolutely doing that.

JONATHAN TAYLOR

House flips to the first page of the chart.

HOUSE:
Jonathan Taylor is…
(inhales deeply, reluctantly impressed)
…ridiculously good.

JD:
He’s on fire!
Every week, every touch, he looks like a human cheat code.

DR. COX:
He doesn’t run.
He glides like some sort of beautiful football gazelle armed with quads that could crush concrete.

HOUSE:
He’s efficient.
He’s relentless.
He’s the entire ground game and several dreams.

JD:
It’s like watching a highlight reel in real time!

HOUSE:
Yes, Newbie.
Taylor is incredible.
Which is why it’s deeply suspicious that the rest of this roster still insists on causing panic attacks.

ZAY FLOWERS

HOUSE:
Flowers.
Fast. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

JD:
He plays like a loose sparkler on the Fourth of July!

DR. COX:
That’s accurate.
One week he’s dazzling.
The next week he’s missing from the box score like a witness protection participant.

HOUSE:
His fantasy output is a roulette wheel, except the ball is on fire and the wheel is spinning downhill.

JORDAN LOVE

House turns to the last page.

HOUSE:
Jordan Love.
Capable of 4 touchdowns…
or throwing the ball like it’s filled with bees.

DR. COX:
If confidence was a quarterback stat, he’d lead the league.
Unfortunately, decision-making also exists.

JD:
But when he gets rolling, he looks unstoppable!

HOUSE:
So does a shopping cart going downhill.

THE ROOM AGAIN

House gestures at the fake snow falling around them.

HOUSE:
This—
(points)
This room is the perfect metaphor for your roster.

JD
Cozy?

DR. COX
Cold.
Unstable footing.
And someone is going to get hurt.

HOUSE writes on the whiteboard:

“ALTITUDE-INDUCED FANTASY DELUSION.”

HOUSE:
Jonathan Taylor is the avalanche.
Everyone else is just trying not to die underneath it.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

Powderhoundmals suffers from “Avalanche Scoring Syndrome.”

Symptoms:

• Taylor detonates box scores
  
  

• Flowers provides spontaneous fireworks
  
  

• Jordan Love may or may not be piloting the offense like a snowmobile with loose steering
  
  

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Harness Taylor.
   
   

2. Accept Flowers’ chaos.
   
   

3. Pray Jordan Love doesn’t decide to do interpretive passing.
   
   

HOUSE (heading out):
Great roster.
Terrifying room decor.
Stop encouraging the fantasy manager to express themselves.

JD (internal monologue):
…One day I’ll get my café room.

PATIENT FILE: TRASH PANDAS
Record: 6–12
Symptoms: Chaos addiction, impulsive roster management, emotional instability tied to lineup decisions made near open flames
Affected organs (players): Bijan Robinson, Brock Bowers, Kyren Williams

SEWIFFL GENERAL — BEHAVIORAL HEALTH / DUMPSTER FIRE RESPONSE

The exam room smells faintly of gasoline, Skittles, and denial.
A dumpster smolders in the corner.
No one has asked why—it’s simply accepted.

House enters.

HOUSE (reading chart):
Bijan Robinson.
Brock Bowers.
Kyren Williams.

A three-headed monster of talent.
Which raises one obvious question:

HOUSE:
How is this team still losing?

BIJAN ROBINSON

HOUSE:
Bijan is elite.
Smooth. Fluid. Explosive.

JD (brightly):
He’s a generational guy! One cut and he’s gone!

HOUSE:
And yet somehow the manager treats him like a scratch-off ticket.

DR. COX:
Start him.
Don’t outthink yourself.
It’s Bijan Freaking Robinson, not a Sudoku puzzle.

BROCK BOWERS

House flips the page.

HOUSE:
Brock Bowers.
Strong. Athletic. Actual weapon in the passing game.

DR. COX (suspicious):
Then why do I feel uneasy?

JD:
Maybe because he’s producing and we weren’t emotionally prepared for that?

HOUSE:
This tight end actually scores.
That alone violates several natural laws.

KYREN WILLIAMS

HOUSE:
Kyren Williams runs like the defense insulted someone he loves.

DR. COX:
He doesn’t just hit holes—he punishes them.

JD (internal monologue):
Wow.
That level of commitment.
It reminds me of…
me and Turk.

Guy love — that’s all it is.
…snap out of it, JD. Focus.

HOUSE (sniffing the air):
Did someone just have a sentimental moment, or is that the dumpster catching fire again?

THE REAL ISSUE

House walks to the dumpster, opens the lid, and reveals a crumpled stack of lineup cards.

HOUSE:
Your problem isn’t talent.
It’s decision-making inside a fire hazard.

DR. COX:
They don’t set lineups based on logic.
They set lineups based on vibes, and possibly fumes.

House writes on the board:

CHAOTIC GOOD ROSTER — CHAOTIC EVIL MANAGER

HOUSE:
Bijan. Bowers. Kyren.
Great players.

Wrong hands.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

Trash Pandas suffers from “Potential Dependency Disorder.”

Symptoms:

• Benching players right before they break out
  
  

• Starting players based on “a feeling” received from the dumpster
  
  

• Emotional whiplash every Sunday
  
  

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Stop chasing chaos
   
   

2. Commit to your stars
   
   

3. Only open the dumpster for trash—not spiritual guidance
   
   

HOUSE (walking out):
Your players are great.
Your process is a crime scene.

DR. COX:
And for God’s sake—
put out the dumpster.

PATIENT FILE: BART WAS THE BEST
Record: 9–7
Symptoms: Persistent hope, emotional attachment to breakout hype, sudden loss of QB stability
Affected organs (players): Jayden Daniels — now injured, Jaxon Smith-Njigba, Drake London

INT. SEWIFFL GENERAL — THE “IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY YEAR” WARD

A motivational poster hangs crooked on the wall:

“Believe.”

Below it lies a chair with a thrown clipboard, suggesting belief didn’t go well.

House enters, tosses the chart onto the table like it insulted him.

HOUSE:
Jayden Daniels gets injured and this whole roster collapses emotionally faster than a folding chair at a family reunion.

JD (sympathetic):
Daniels was magical!
He was rushing touchdowns.
He was throwing bombs.
He was—
(pause, soft internal monologue)
He was everything.

DR. COX:
Oh for the love of—
Newbie, pull it together.
You’re talking like he died in a war documentary.
He strained something, he didn’t get written out of the show.

HOUSE (pacing slowly):
Jayden Daniels wasn’t just the quarterback.
He was the illusion of safety.
He covered up every flaw.

House slaps the chart down and points at the next name.

JAXON SMITH-NJIGBA

HOUSE:
JSN.
A fantasy riddle.
Talented. Dynamic. Explosive.

JD (smiling):
He’s so close to becoming a star.

HOUSE:
Close doesn’t win weeks.
Close gets you 7.4 points and a stomach ulcer.

DR. COX:
JSN is like subscribing to a streaming service for one show.
You keep paying because you think the next episode is the one that finally pays off.

DRAKE LONDON

HOUSE:
Drake London.
Capable of dominating games…
Assuming the offense remembers he exists.

JD (encouraging):
He gets open all the time!

HOUSE:
And the quarterback treats him like a rumor.

DR. COX:
He’s like owning a sports car in a city with no roads.

House grabs the dry erase marker and writes:

“INJURY-INDUCED IDENTITY CRISIS.”

HOUSE:
This team didn’t have depth.
It had Daniels, and then vibes.

JD (softly):
He just needs time to emotionally adjust.

HOUSE:
He needs a functioning quarterback.

DR. COX:
And therapy.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

Bart Was The Best suffers from “Protagonist Syndrome.”

Symptoms:

• Believing destiny equals championships
  
  

• Substituting faith for bench depth
  
  

• Thinking JSN will break out any week now
  
  

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Find a QB with a pulse.
   
   

2. Stop clinging to narratives.
   
   

3. Understand that JSN hype does not score actual points.
   
   

HOUSE (heading for the exit):
You don’t win fantasy because the universe owes you a comeback arc.
You win because your backup quarterback isn’t a missing person.

PATIENT FILE: PACK ATTACK
Record: 6–10
Symptoms: Confusing inconsistency, emotional apathy, occasional brilliance followed by total collapse
Affected organs (players): Lamar Jackson, Trey McBride, Amon-Ra St. Brown

SEWIFFL GENERAL — STANDARD EXAM ROOM

The room is plain. No decorations, no personality.
A clipboard on the counter simply reads:

DRAFTED: AUTO-DRAFT

House holds the file between two fingers like it offends him.

HOUSE:
Ah. Auto-draft.
The fantasy equivalent of letting a Roomba choose your groceries.

DR. COX:
It explains why the roster is good but the record isn’t.

JD:
Hey, sometimes auto-draft knows things we don’t!

HOUSE:
Yes.
Like how to build a roster without any emotional attachment whatsoever.

LAMAR JACKSON

HOUSE:
Lamar Jackson is volatility disguised as a quarterback.
Some weeks, he performs like a god descending from the clouds.
Other weeks, he throws the ball like he’s allergic to fantasy points.

DR. COX:
He plays like he’s paid per highlight, not per completion.

JD:
But when he takes off running?
Magic.

HOUSE:
Fantasy managers don’t want “magic.”
They want points that don’t require CPR.

TREY McBRIDE

House flips to the tight end page.

HOUSE:
McBride.
A rare tight end who actually gets targets.

DR. COX:
Which is unheard of at that position.
Most tight ends get cardio, not receptions.

JD:
He’s reliable! He gets work every game!

HOUSE:
Yes.
He is the emotional support tight end.
And somehow…
still not enough to prevent 6–10.

AMON-RA ST. BROWN

House lifts the final page.

HOUSE:
Amon-Ra St. Brown is consistency incarnate.

DR. COX:
Route technician.
Target hog.
He produces every week without drama.

JD:
He’s the dependable guy you build around.

HOUSE:
And yet with this roster?
He’s a hostage.

DR. COX:
He deserves better.
We all do.

DIAGNOSTIC CONCLUSION

House walks to the whiteboard and writes:

“THE PLAYERS ARE GOOD. THE TEAM IS LOST.”

HOUSE:
This team doesn’t lose because of talent.
It loses because there is no guiding hand.

JD:
Like great actors in a terrible play.

DR. COX:
Or a car with excellent parts but no driver.

HOUSE:
Exactly.
The roster doesn’t have a direction — it just exists.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

Pack Attack suffers from “Managerial Apathy-Induced Inconsistency.”

Symptoms:

• Good players without a plan
  
  

• No emotional bond with roster
  
  

• Constantly saying “I don’t know, the lineup was already set”
  
  

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Actually manage the team.
   
   

2. Give Amon-Ra attention, affection, and maybe flowers.
   
   

3. Set lineups with purpose, not resignation.
   
   

HOUSE (leaving):
Auto-draft gave you a chance.
You gave it indifference.

PATIENT FILE: BIG NIX ENERGY
Record: 10–6
Symptoms: Supreme confidence, steady production from elite players, emotional fragility toward tight end injuries
Affected organs (players): Patrick Mahomes, Justin Jefferson, Tucker Kraft

INT. SEWIFFL GENERAL — COMPETENCE EVALUATION SUITE

The room looks annoyingly classy.
Mahogany chairs.
LED lighting.
Hype video looping silently on a TV.

House enters first, sees the décor, looks offended.

HOUSE:
Every other team gets a folding chair and a flickering light.
You get a luxury suite?

JD (whispering internally):
I wish I got a luxury suite. With snacks.

House opens the chart.

HOUSE:
Patrick Mahomes.
Justin Jefferson.
Tucker Kraft.

DR. COX:
Good players.
Great players.
This is a roster built on actual decision-making.
A rare sight around here.

JD (encouraging):
Mahomes is doing Mahomes things — off-platform throws, absurd arm angles, wizardry.

HOUSE:
Jefferson? Same story.
He’s a walking 100 yards.

JD:
And Kraft has been incredible!
Efficient, dependable, actually scoring—

The door bursts open.

ENTER NURSE

She looks pale and out of breath.

NURSE:
Doctors… you need to see this.
Kraft tore his ACL.
He’s done for the year.

Silence.

The chart slips from House’s hand and hits the floor.

JD:
No.
No, no, no—
I once lost Dallas Goedert and I couldn’t eat yogurt for three days.

HOUSE (slow blink):
Great.
Another tight end injury.
The most cursed position in fantasy football strikes again.

DR. COX (grabbing the chart):
He was finally having a breakout season!
He was reliable!
He was useful!

JD (spiraling):
He ran real routes, Perry.
Real routes.

DR. COX:
Newbie, don’t…
don’t say things like that.
We have to stay strong.

HOUSE WRITES ON THE WHITEBOARD

TIGHT END TRAUMA RESPONSE — CODE: PANIC

HOUSE:
Mahomes and Jefferson can drag a roster.
But a gaping hole at tight end?
That changes the ecosystem.

DR. COX:
There’s no replacement.
There’s just… waiver wire sadness.

JD (still emotional):
He was the chosen one.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

Big Nix Energy suffers from “Sudden Tight End Structural Collapse.”

Symptoms:

• Stable elite core suddenly destabilized
  
  

• Emotional shock followed by bargaining
  
  

• Googling “best streaming tight end” like it’s a form of grief counseling
  
  

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Do not add four tight ends in desperation.
   
   

2. Accept that no replacement will match production or vibes.
   
   

3. Lean on Mahomes and Jefferson like emotional support animals.
   
   

HOUSE (walking out):
You can replace points.
You can’t replace hope.

JD (quietly):
…or yogurt.

PATIENT FILE: PINCHE BENDEJO
Record: 9–7
Symptoms: Overreliance on superstardom, unpredictable running back identity, emotional mood swings tied to tight end efficiency
Affected organs (players): Jalen Hurts, Travis Kelce, Rico Dowdle

SEWIFFL GENERAL — CARDIO THERAPY & BAD DECISION MANAGEMENT UNIT

A poster of Jalen Hurts doing the Brotherly Shove dominates the wall.
Next to it, someone has written:

“QB Power is my religion.”

Across the room, a Travis Kelce jersey hangs like a shrine.

House enters, review chart in hand, disgust already activated.

HOUSE:
Jalen Hurts. Travis Kelce.
Two bonafide fantasy superstars.

He flips to the final name.

HOUSE (flat):
…Rico Dowdle.

Beat of silence.

JD (immediately defensive):
Hey now. Rico Dowdle is having an excellent season.

Both House and Cox turn slowly to stare at him.

DR. COX:
I’m sorry, Newbie — did you just voluntarily bring Rico Dowdle into a conversation without being forced at gunpoint?

JD:
He has burst, vision, pass-pro improvement.
He’s out-touching expectations.
He’s—he’s the kind of inspirational comeback story that reminds us football is beautiful.

HOUSE (squints):
Why… do you know this much about Rico Dowdle?

JD:
I watched—
(pauses, lowers voice)
—I watched a documentary about undrafted players.

DR. COX:
Oh for the love of—
Of course you did.
Of course you watched a motivational doc about a running back whose name sounds like a discontinued fast-food item.

HOUSE (nods):
Rico Dowdle: now available for a limited time.
Get him in PPR or spicy barbecue.

JALEN HURTS

HOUSE:
Hurts is a fantasy cheat code disguised as a quarterback.
Touchdowns. Sneaks. Vulturing running back points like a seagull at the beach.

JD:
He gives hope.

HOUSE:
He gives points.
Hope is the side effect.

TRAVIS KELCE

HOUSE:
Kelce is still elite.
But he has developed a troubling condition.

House writes on the board:

“Taylor-Induced Variability.”

DR. COX:
Symptoms include:

• 120 yards when Swift is watching.
  
  

• 33 yards and a dropped pass when she’s on tour.
  
  

RICO DOWDLE

JD leans forward.

JD (proud):
Career resurgence.
Underdog.
Efficiency monster.
He runs like every defender doubted his existence.

HOUSE:
He runs like you are emotionally attached to him.

DR. COX:
Newbie, be honest — are you running a Rico Dowdle fan club on the side?

JD (quietly):
We meet on Thursdays.

House turns to the chart.

HOUSE:
This roster’s problem isn’t talent.

He writes:

“STAR–STAR–SURPRISE” Architecture

HOUSE:
Hurts and Kelce are constant.
But the team relies on Dowdle being a weekly Disney-movie montage.

DR. COX:
There is no safety net.
Only hope… and Rico Dowdle trivia.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

Pinche Bendejo suffers from “Top-Heavy Roster Stability Syndrome.”

Symptoms:

• Hurts and Kelce carrying emotional and point load
  
  

• Living and dying with a surprise breakout RB
  
  

• Manager saying “we’ll be fine” while staring at box scores
  
  

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Add depth so Dowdle doesn’t have to be Rudy with shoulder pads.
   
   

2. Manage expectations: Kelce cannot fight off time forever.
   
   

3. Check JD’s computer for Dowdle fan fiction.
   
   

HOUSE (leaving the room):
You’ve got two superstars and a feel-good running back story.
Just pray the story stays feel-good.

PATIENT FILE: MUDDY BANANAS
Record: 8–8
Symptoms: Unstable point production, random scoring explosions, constant confusion regarding team branding
Affected organs (players): Ashton Jeanty, Davante Adams, Brandon Aubrey (yes, the kicker)

INT. SEWIFFL GENERAL — CONFUSION & BRAND IDENTITY CRISIS UNIT

The doctors enter.
The chart is labeled in bold letters:

“MUDDY BANANAS.”

They stop.
They read it again.

HOUSE:
Muddy… Bananas.

JD:
Maybe it's symbolic!

DR. COX:
Of what, Newbie?
Poor decisions and potassium?

JD:
No, no, think about it—bananas are normally clean and yellow and bright, but Muddy Bananas suggests grit and resilience and—

HOUSE (interrupting):
No.
It suggests someone dropped their groceries in a parking lot puddle and still ate them.

House flips open the player chart.

HOUSE:
Ashton Jeanty.
Davante Adams.
Brandon Aubrey.

DR. COX:
And that kicker is actually… producing.
Better than most flexes in this league.

JD:
He’s like a dependable partner in a rom-com.
You don’t appreciate him until everyone else disappoints you!

HOUSE (stares directly at JD):
If you turn this into a speech about believing in love and kickers again, I will medically remove your vocal cords.

ASHTON JEANTY

HOUSE:
Jeanty is the kind of player fantasy managers hype themselves into drafting based on two things:

1. Explosive potential
   
   

2. Hype videos featuring dubstep
   
   

JD (impressed):
He’s all upside!

HOUSE:
He’s also all projection.
Like a political poll in July.
Meaningless until it actually matters.

DAVANTE ADAMS

DR. COX:
Now this—this is a real player.
The man runs routes sharper than House’s sarcasm.

HOUSE:
And yet, he is trapped in an offense that sometimes forgets wide receivers are allowed to catch footballs.

JD:
Like putting a Ferrari in… mud.

HOUSE (slaps table):
THAT’S IT.
Everything makes sense now.

He writes on the whiteboard:

“DAVANTE ADAMS IS THE BANANA. THE OFFENSE IS THE MUD.”

DR. COX (slow clap):
Finally, the name is medically accurate.

BRANDON AUBREY

House frowns at the page.

HOUSE:
Brandon. Aubrey.
The kicker.
Scoring… a suspicious number of points.

JD:
He’s like finding a $20 bill in jeans you forgot you owned.

DR. COX:
Or like realizing your kicker is the only stable relationship in your life.

House dramatically circles the team name.

HOUSE:
This team isn’t Muddy Bananas because of chaos.
They are Muddy Bananas because:

1. Davante is elite but trapped.
   
   

2. Jeanty is electric but may or may not touch the ball enough.
   
   

3. The kicker is somehow the steadiest performer.
   
   

JD:
It’s like the fantasy version of a seesaw.

HOUSE:
It’s like building your roster around potential and vibes, and then relying on a kicker to bail you out.

DR. COX:
You don’t want to be the team whose season depends on a kicker.

HOUSE:
Unless your name is Muddy Bananas, apparently.

FINAL DIAGNOSIS:

Muddy Bananas suffers from “Inverted Stability Disorder.”

Symptoms:

• Relying on kickers to stabilize emotional well-being
  
  

• Davante Adams trapped in offensive mud
  
  

• Naming the team something that raises more questions than points
  
  

TREATMENT PLAN:

1. Acquire a player with consistent volume
   
   

2. Stop emotionally investing in kickers
   
   

3. Change the team name… maybe
   
   

HOUSE (heading out):
Your kicker shouldn’t be the adult of the roster.

DR. COX:
And please—
explain the bananas.

JD (whispering wistfully):
I get it.
Sometimes… life is muddy.