Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Prayers of a Desperate Football Fan

There was once a time where God's people, the Israelites, strayed so far that God relegated them to walk the desert for 40 years. I will have to check up on my old testament, because today I would find no shock in learning that the idols taken were not golden cows, but golden Cowboys, and the Israelites had taken part in midnight yell the night before the beginning of their fateful trek. It seems that as this football season progresses, so does the misfortune of the football teams that I hold so dear.

Therefore, I ask you football gods, to take mercy upon a poor soul like myself. I now see the vastness of your wrath can bring down even the mightiest of quarterbacks by their little pinky. Much like the giants swarms of Locusts that descended on Egypt, on Saturday dirty sand fleas will fall upon Kyle Field, enveloping Aggieland in black and red masses of top 10 rankings, swash-buckling coaches, and tier 3 educations. Many say Tech could very well drop 100 points on A&M Saturday. I have seen Texas A&M football, and this is a team that has been cast from your light, o football gods. I turn to see the Dallas Cowboys, a team chock full of more talent than most could ever hope for. A team destined for glory in August, here we stand watching as this great entity crumbles and breaks upon itself, the future shaky and unknown. Men dropping like flies, Pac-Mans dropping like it's hot... well, OK, I could see where he had it coming. I beseech you o great 8 lb 6 oz. baby Tom Landry, help save my football teams from walking in nothingness for 40 years.

I have always followed the great game with utmost dedication. My faith has never wavered, even in the middle of purgatory..err, baseball season. I check my stats every day, I can name every Super Bowl winner in order from front to back. I have forgotten more about football than most will ever know. Despite the disturbing product that has graced Kyle Field this year, I have still been there every day 12th Man towel in hand, yelling at the top of my lungs surrounded by others who lost faith long ago. For the love of Vince Lombardi, I was there for every game Quincy Carter, Ryan Leaf, Chad Henson, Clint Stoerner, and Methusela...I mean Vinny Testaverde played in! Grant me relief football Gods!

I haven't forgotten glorious days that have come before. I still remember the rush of seeing A&M beat #1 Oklahoma in 2002. I remember the electricity of Kyle Field. 90,000 Aggies yelling with such intensity that I would swear to you that the sound transcended people yelling in unison; I would more liken it to the shrill boom that occurs when one's eardrums have been pushed to the limit of their own integrity, as if they are literally just moments away from bursting. I remember that day vividly, the day a single bright ray of sunshine burst through the clouds of an otherwise stormy season.

My youth was spent basking in the victorious ways of America's team. Perhaps I was spoiled by Emmitt, Troy, and Michael. Maybe it was youthful naivete that led me to believe the Cowboys were indestructable. As the 90's progressed into the 00's, I watched as the Cowboys toiled in mediocrity. I stuck by them, as I always will. This is supposed to be our year, yet the next thing I know Tony Romo is hurt. And Felix Jones. And Mat McBriar. And Terence Newman. And Anthony Spencer. And Sam Hurd. Need I go on? The Cowboys are supposed to win the Super Bowl, and everything is supposed to be right in the U.S.A. I am convinced the Cowboys winning the Super Bowl would likely end any recession talk, place a chicken in every pot, and America could once again return to its rightful place of unending prosperity. It's really simple logic. Please, o football gods, think of the children!

O, football gods, I ask forgiveness for my sins. I have felt your wrath this year, it is apparent we Aggie and Cowboy fans have been forsaken. I ask you to bring us back into your good graces. The dark clouds of strife have hung over Kyle Field for too many years now. I ask you to open them once more, and allow good Aggies to do what they do best; be the 12th Man on that fightin' Aggie Team! We will make you proud. In the names of Bear Bryant, Tom Landry, and the galloping ghost Red Grange. Amen!

BTHO Texas Tech!

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