Please see our player page for Sixto Sanchez to see projections for today, the next 7 days and rest of season as well as stats and gamelogs designed with the fantasy baseball player in mind.

With beloved Razzball writer Ralph Lifschitz finally revealing his true identity on Twitter, I realized it came down to me — the pitcher ranker and weekend editor — to unmask the final mystery man of Razzball: Grey Albright himself. So I invited the Fantasy Master Lothario to a fancy brunch that I never showed up to. Instead, I snuck into Razzball HQ…which wasn’t hard to do because Donkey Teeth is there literally every minute of every day searching for shirtless pics of Yusei Kikuchi. Grey never locks his office because he feels that he gives away all of his data for free on the internet; there’s no reason for anybody to break in. Except, for the holy grail: the real identity of the Master Lothario.

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Welcome to my new column in Razzball: The Magazine! Every week I’ll be responding to letters from fans who are in a fantasy crisis. Let’s jump right in and see our first question:

Dear EverywhereBlair, 

I drafted Sixto Sanchez in the first round. I know! I’m a sucker for alliteration. I even named my team, “Sexy Sixto Stacks Stampede.” You told me ADP was a trap and I could draft whomever I want whenever I want! 

Signed, 

Suxto See Sixto Sick

Well, we’ve got ourselves a humdinger for the first mailbag question! Did you hear that Sixto has a sore arm? You really don’t need to be taking pitchers in the first round. But it’s your team, you do you. You can fix your team by drafting Jacob Stallings, and renaming it the Sticky Stallings Smashers. Onwards, to the main event!

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Howdy, folks!

Oh how joyous it is to have baseball back! Lineups galore need setting! Waiver wire races have already started! What a time of year.

I’m just glad some of these injured guys have finally hit the IL so I can stash them and scoop up some replacements. Pretty peeved that some guys didn’t hit IL until it was too late to do anything about it for Opening Day.

I hope you had a successful first couple of days. Mine was a mixed bag, but I’m ready for Byron Buxton to go so ham. I know it’s easy to fall victim to inflated hype, but how can you not love this guy for fantasy? If healthy, of course; I imagine he’ll find his way into one of these updates sooner or later…

Alrighty, enough blathering. Let’s get yinz caught up:

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*rubs ancient lamp, a blue genie appears* I have three wishes for this baseball season. My first wish is “No one I own get hurt.” I didn’t draft Dinelson Lamet, Josh Donaldson or Trevor Rosenthal, so I made your job easy for you, great, powerful Genie. My 2nd wish is “Everyone I drafted do well.”  I drafted Juan Soto, Trevor Story and Alec Bohm, so, really, I’m doing much of the heavy lifting for this wish too. My 3rd and final wish is “All defensive shifts are eight catchers stacked on top of each other like a totem pole.” Thanking you in advance, Genie. Wait a second, you’re not a genie, you’re Bartolo Colon in Blue Man Group paint. Damn you!

Okay, breathe in, breathe out. Take a moment. Really feel the ground below your feet. The air in your lungs. The soon-turds in your lower intestine. You’re alive. That’s the feeling. April baseball, you giant love muffin! I missed you so much. I’d get choked up, but I cried out all my tears at Luis Castillo’s start. Remember, the only thing you really should take away from yesterday’s player performances is:  It’s one game. Anyway, here’s what I saw yesterday for fantasy baseball:

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“Hello, Proprietor of a Milliner, I understand your trade is hat-making. I was wondering if you could make this Dairy Queen sundae helmet into a normal-sized head helmet…Right, right, I get that. Yes, I guess I could just buy a helmet from the John Olerud collection, but I’d like this exact Kansas City Royals sundae helmet. It’s for Opening Day for the 2021 baseball season, Mr. Milliner–Wait a second, I’m seeing news come across my ticker…Adalberto Mondesi has an oblique strain? Forget it, Opening Day is called off. Goodbye.” How do you strain your oblique on the one day without baseball between now and July? Was he reaching up to get a suitcase out of overhead baggage? Well, I too have baggage, but I push my baggage down until I randomly start crying at red lights! Why, why whywhywhy…Well, I guess, Happy Opening Day! It feels less happy now with Mondesi news. The Royals recalled Nicky Lopez, which is objectively just funny. If you have late drafts, like after Opening Day, I updated top 500 for Mondesi, conservatively removing 100 at-bats, which is roughly three weeks to a month. It seemed like a big stretch to have Mondesi hitting 3rd in that lineup. Obviously too big of a stretch for his oblique. Hopefully, he can get back soon, because it’s Opening freakin’ Day! Anyway, here’s what else I saw yesterday for fantasy baseball:

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I walked down a dark hallway of Razzball Headquarters, some corner I had never been before. The walls were the color of aquarium gravel. I squinted in the dim light to verify that I had the correct office. I knocked on the door and peeked my head inside, seeing the Fantasy Master Lothario himself, Grey Albright, sitting in an office chair behind of a well-built desk. The image of Don Draper in a sweater-vest.

“Everywhere!” he said, wringing his hands excitedly. He put his hand out for a shake. I reached for it, but he pulled his arm back as if almost touching a hot stove. “Nah-ah!” he smiled and wagged his finger. “Not in the time of Covid!”

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In Japan, you bond with your coworkers by going to an enkai. You say it like “N-kai,” and the Kai is as in Cobra Kai, not “Kay” as in, “I’m so American I can’t envision speaking any language than N-glysh. The enkai is usually where the office (not the TV show) gets together for some BBQ and beers. Everybody goes to the enkai, even if they don’t like beer and BBQ. Sometimes, Japanese managers conduct official office business at the enkai, which makes it somewhat awkward when they pass out documents to read while you’re navigating grilled meat. Then comes the nijikai, or “second meeting,” when the “cool people” leave the “squares” behind, and they go to a place where there’s more beer, some snacks, and some karaoke. But for the bold — and those who are truly initiated into the office — there’s the sanjikai, or the “third meeting.” This is the event where only the hardened drinkers, the Buddhist teetotalers, and those people trying to forget the horrors of 9-5 hyper-capitalism are found. For the sanjikai, you’re out there not because you have to, but because you want to. Because you’re driven, by some supra-rational urge that verges on the paranormal, to see what’s hidden behind the curtain. You want to suck the marrow out of life and maybe get a bone splinter in your gums. You know the world has made its mark on you, and you want to mark the world before you transit off this plane of existence into the cosmos, awaiting to be reborn on your ascent to Nirvana. You might not get home tonight if you go out to the sanjikai, but that’s OK because you’re willing to sit in the park and watch the stars until first train.

That’s what this third pre-season edition of the Top 100 Starting Pitchers is all about: You want to know what the others don’t know. You’ve probably drafted already, but you’re here to get prepped for who to pick up off the waiver wire and what to do for next year. You, my dear reader, are initiated into my office, and I invite you to the sanjikai of my weekly pitchers series.

This article is probably my greatest contribution to fantasy sports so far, and I hope you enjoy it.

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Howdy, folks. As my lil’ bio snippet below says, I am in fact drinking a good dark beer as I touch this up for publication. This eve’s beverage of choice: New Belgium’s 1554.

Okay. Bear with me for a sec, but this is just truly the best time of the year. My men’s Hogs are a 3-seed (for the first time since I’ve been old enough to care) and have at least punched their ticket into the Round of 32. My lady Hogs are a 4-seed and look to do the same Monday afternoon. My Blues are not playing very well, but they’re still in the playoff hunt, by golly. My Liverpool Reds are kinda trash this year, but it’s a lost season with injuries anyway. And my Cards are getting closer to the games actually counting. Point being, all my teams are currently in action! Plus, March Madness has returned! (It’s super weird to think it’s been two full years since we’ve gotten March Madness action, isn’t it?)

Anyway, now that you’ve got the unwanted JKJ’s teams sports update, here are the updates you’re actually here for:

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“I did it. It’s done,” Grey said, running his hand through his mustache in splendid celebration. A fire roared in the hearth and cup of sparkling Fresca waited by his side. He pulled on his faux fur thrift store coat, looking every bit the 5’7″ “Legend of Los Angeles” that Fantasy Baseballer Magazine had dubbed him. He moved to his easy chair, reached for the remote, and turned off the National Geographic documentary about the hunting patterns of the Siberian Tiger, which always put him in the mood “to eat the competition” in the draft room. With clear eyes and full heart, he recited his daily mantra, I am the fantasy master lothario. 40 rounds, player upon player upon player upon sleeper. Like a talk show host, he fended off attacks from the left and the right and emerged above the fray, insouciant to what carnage he left in his path.

His mental respite was shattered when Cougs came rushing through the door, home from the grocery store. She whipped off her mask, panting, the twinkle of a tear down her cheek. “Grey, I’m so sorry. Cookie crumbled!” she said.

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MY INITIAL FIVE SELECTIONS HAVING BEEN MADE, I decided to stop a moment and look around. I had come into this effort so headstrong, and so assured, that I did not consider for a moment what my opposition might be up to. I had assumed that my zigging and their zagging would leave me feeling accomplished.

Quite the contrary.

I had been correct in my assumption that The Acefecta would be unique as far as strategies go, and yet, gnawing at my mind like the ceaseless banshee shriek of nails dragged across a blackboard was one fact: I was not the only manager who found himself with three pitchers after five rounds.

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