Can my roto team be cursed?

Or is it "accursed"? I like accursed better. It conjures imagines of King Lear sitting in front of his TV with Tom Glavine pitching. Old Lear is thinking, "Aye, a quality start tis' mine." Then down goes Glavine and it's all "Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires."

That's what I said when Glavine's elbow gave out against the Cubs. Or something like that. I couldn't hear from the roaring sound in my ears. I think it was the ocean. Or my brain melting.

I had just picked him up Glavine on waivers after another owner dropped him. So there I was with the newly acquired Glavine, feeling like Dillinger after a bank job. And there is Tom Glavine grimacing in pain and been lead off by assorted men with worried looks.

I talk to the TV. It doesn't answer.

Then I read the news today. Oh, boy. Albert Pujols is going on the DL. The heart of my team's lineup carved out with a rusty spoon. Down with a calf injury. Who gets calf injuries? You don't go to work and here somebody say, "Hey, too bad about Herb, his calf is acting up and he'll be out of work for three weeks." No, your boss screams at him on the phone to drag his sorry self to work and he does.

Does anyone have Pujols' phone number?

Like they say on TV ads, "but wait, there's more!"

Rafael Furcal's back resembles that of a 72 year old man. First he was out for a week. Then 10 days. Then the DL. Now, there are dark rumors of a horse van pulling up in front of Dodger stadium and attendants talking about "putting the big fellow down". LA says he may be back in July. They don't say which year.

Then there are injuries to the psyche. Every year I resist picking up Ian Snell of the Pirates for two reasons. First, he isn't tall enough to be a power pitcher. Second, I don't like the name Snell. What the heck, somebody always picks him up and he does well. Until this year. Snell couldn't find the plate if Vanna White stood beside it and did that little sideways thing she does with her hands on "Wheel of Fortune".

I'd draft Vanna White. Granted, for all the wrong reasons. Where was I?

Then there is Tom Gorzelanny. Tom, if you're reading this, just let me say I know what's going on here. After I suffer through 8 starts, an 8.67 ERA, 2.01 WHP I finally cave in and give up. Then you come back today and beat the Nationals. And Jason Bergman, who I replaced you with.

This obviously has gotten personal.

J.R. Towles, we hardly knew ye. Hope you are enjoying Round Rock. Send a postcard.

Has anyone seen Dave Roberts? I understand he's hitting off a tee. If I had been drafting for a tee ball league I'd be sitting in the cat bird seat.

No more Garciaparra. Please, no more. Fare thee well Bill Hall. Best wishes Barry Zito. Send a heating pad to Odalis Perez for his arm, a knee brace to Omar Vizquel.

And the name of a good mental health provider to the poor roto owners who suffer with you.