Power Rankings

The regular-season résumé is absurd: eight Divisional Championships, and with an El Clásico win plus a Sqwid face-plant, a sixth Regular Season crown is right there for the taking. And yet everyone in the DelFL knows the truth—there’s only one star on the report card that counts. The PRC warned early about “Flunking the Final”: Bo’s aced the coursework, padded the GPA, and looks great on paper. But none of that matters if he blows the exam that actually decides everything.

But it’s Sqwid who should be polishing the Regular Season trophy after Week 14—what ought to be an easy procession over the abdicated Corporate King. Weirdly, winning the Regular Season has produced a meager four DelFL titles—a pathetic 21% conversion rate that makes a Manager seriously consider benching starters during Rivalry Week just to dodge the curse. Still, Sqwid needs to stay locked in. The BYE is secured, the path is clear, and this roster is built for a postseason charge—if he doesn’t trip over his own tentacles.

Does anyone actually want to land on Keith’s side of the bracket? The postseason is creeping in, the full moon is up, the Witching Hour is on, and the White Wolf's howling. He’s moving closer to receiving what he has insisted all year is rightfully his: an earnest “I love you” from Sean. Or maybe it’s a 2nd Gold Star—the PRC loses track of his priorities sometimes. Either way, this roster is as deep as anything you’ll see in December, but it comes with two glaring Wolf Traps: Goff in the cold, and Marvin Harrison Jr.’s freshly healed appendix cavity. If Goff starts to freeze, Keith may feel pressure in the abdomen—confusing his team’s rising appendicitis with his perennial IBS—and in the end, it won’t just be his bowels that collapses. It’ll be his team absolutely shitting the bed.

After 11 straight years outside the postseason, Parker can practically feel the cactus spikes burying themselves under his skin. So the PRC gets why he’s suddenly scrambling to decipher the tiebreaker rules—desperation breeds confusion. The math is simple, though: winning this week dramatically boosts his odds. The irony? He didn’t even roster a starting quarterback heading into FAAB night. This isn’t a team chasing glory; Parker’s only ambition at this point is to finally stop plucking thorns out of his hide.

The DelFL suddenly finds itself glued to what’s usually the most disposable matchup on the Rivalry Week slate: Jeff vs. Giorgio—the league’s two oldest managers battling for metaphorical rights to the handicap parking spot. Yet somehow this geriatric grudge match carries more weight than anything else this week (in a sense). With a win, Jeff finally bags his first Family Division title, locks in just his second ever Playoff berth, and lives to fight another day. But if the Pies take it, the scenario matrix explodes—yes, even the long-dead White Ghost could spook its way out of the crypt. Can Jeff avoid the collapse? Mariota believes in him.

Jesse battled all year for a 2nd star claim, But the Axe dropped and ended his game; His Buckeyes stood tall, Yet his Fantasy is in free fall— With Jefferson shackled to QBs too hopeless to tame.

Let’s stop pretending: Tony simply doesn’t have it. The PRC tried sugar coating this season in a layer of confectionery optimism, but beneath the sugar lies a tobacco-spitting Fish with nothing but cavities—and his dentist is losing patience. New year, same flatline. Why can’t he take after a true legend like his mother, Paula—Collegiate Hall of Famer and Kelly Ripa’s most cherished pen pal? Why won’t he just absorb an ounce of her wisdom? She’s right there in Findlay, waiting by the door. Walk in, listen for once, and maybe—just maybe—the PRC can quit recycling this same blurb every December.

The White Ghost is suddenly healthy and stalking the edges of the bracket. Bucky has returned, Indy Jones is… fine enough, and AJ is getting his even as the Eagles implode around him. A win over The Kavorka, paired with a Pies upset of Jeff and an NBBS triumph over Billy, would hand the Ghosts the Family Division crown—an achievement that would vault them straight into the pantheon of improbable, against-all-odds playoff crashers. The PRC is, for once, nearly speechless.

If an obituary gets written for this squad, it will open with a blunt indictment: Brock Bowers was never worth the first-round pick, and the Flowers/Shakir combo—once explosive—shrivelled into irrelevance inside two of the league’s most directionless passing schemes. That’s the root of the rot. But the season isn’t dead yet. Not officially. Still, the Baby Seals are salivating at the chance to finish the job—doing to this team exactly what his own cousin did a week ago: shoving him straight into the Giorgio Cup with a boot to the back.

Like Birdman, the Baby Seals trot out a roster talented enough to ruin a rival’s season while scavenging for next year’s draft capital in the consolation events—hardly the stuff to get one out of bed, but brotherly rivalry has its own gravitational pull. The PRC knows it well, and NBBS will be refreshing the ESPN app with the same obsessive cadence than he has all year. Still, failing to make the Playoffs with Gibbs, Chase, and JSN underscores a simple truth: the DelFL is a 14-week marathon. You don’t Rosie Ruiz your way into December.

The PRC occasionally hits the mark with unnerving precision, and last week’s note about the Pies being cosmically tethered to Cremonese proved itself yet again. The Serie A lightweight stunned Italy with a 3–1 takedown of red-hot Bologna at the exact moment the Pies derailed Billy’s playoff climb. Jeff should keep a very close eye on this week’s match against Lecce—his fate may well ride on it. If things go sideways, we may witness a historic first: Jeff snapping an iPad over a Vardy penalty.

Stinky’s roster is just formidable enough to make the White Wolf’s sphincter shrivel, but let’s be honest: this team hasn’t cracked 400 since Week 8 and has languished in the 200s in four of the last five. The PRC doesn’t foresee Keith reaching for the Metamucil. Still, it’s jarring to see Stinky staring down a Giorgio Cup appearance. He’s usually good for a late surge toward the finish line—just not one that begins after the regular season has already ended.

Yanni deserves to catch Stinky and dodge the Piss Poor 4. Like Andy Dufresne, he’s not meant to be caged in a filthy public restroom of a season—his feathers are too bright. But like his chickens, sometimes the bobcat gets you, and this year it dragged off the whole coop. A note from the PRC: it wasn’t the hangover puffiness at the draft. You drafted just fine. Sometimes the universe just feels spiteful. We expect to see you next Bunnathon Sunday—more hungover, puffier, and finally getting the luck you’re owed.

While the PRC enjoyed His Majesty’s dive into the DelFL archives this week, it was hard not to see this franchise’s quiet nod to better days. Gwil once carried league content through some of the darkest stretches in DelFL history—thanks he never properly got from the Commissioner (though he also never thanked the Commissioner for pushing him to draft CMC in his other league). Mark this as an off-year for content and capabilities. Next season, expect a comeback worthy of the third LOTR film—a true Return of the King.

It’s not as though drafting Josh Allen and Derrick Henry doomed Boner’s season—Allen sits fourth at his position and Henry ninth. The damage came from the rest of the draft. Still, the PRC expects both Allen and Henry to slip in next year’s boards; their era of automatic early-round reverence is fading. Is this the turning of the tide? Boner has already shifted into 2026 draft mode, and these are the questions he’ll need to wrestle with whenever he isn’t busy selecting floral arrangements for his 2026 wedding.

Eight losses — the snowman’s complete, A frosty monument built of defeat. Benching Burrow for Sam Was a Thanksgiving sham — A Brown Jacket as fictional as snowmen’s feet.