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A College Football Fan's Prayer

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Lord, let our dear friends understand that their wedding planned for Saturday in October at the same time as a conference game was a sinful act of selfishness; the invitation to be a groomsman? - a personal attack. Rain fire and ash on their ceremony and set their honeymoon cruise adrift to Haiti.

Lord, let fans not call coaches genius too often, for they are just PE majors, mostly.

Lord, please grant me thine divine understanding of what Lou Holtz is babbling about. Doth he spake in Tongueth?

Lord, let The Woman I Love with work stories about Jill being catty to Kelly, and Barb won't stand for it anymore! - know that Thursday night football is still Hallowed and demands our silence, though I care little for the Central Michigan Chippewas and Toledo Rockets.

Lord, let Tracy Morgan be NBC's Notre Dame color analyst if you wish to resurrect thy ratings.

Lord, give not LSU fan blood alcohol poisoning, for they honor you with Cajun transubstantiation: Bourbon and jambalaya into vomit.

Lord, let sideline reporter be more seen, less heard.

Lord, let announcer be less seen, less heard.

Lord, let print media be less read, less herd mentality.

Lord, let not Ohio State townie rip at his mustaches, rend his Spielman starter jersey, nor burn his divan, when the Buckeyes falter. Offer him peace in his heart that Urban will lead him from the wastes. And the number of a good bail bondsman.

Lord, please let our football analysis come not in slideshow format, with spelling errors, 7th grade prose, and excellent search engine optimization.

Lord, I pray that the unemployed oxycontin addict who attended one semester of junior college phoning the call-in show will identify himself not as a member of my fan base before holding forth on his favorite conspiracy theories.

Lord, when he ends that call ROLL DAMN TIDE, please hear my sigh of relief.

Lord, give color analyst the wisdom to know that the the play action call on 3rd and 2 that bounces off of an open tight end's hands is not "a risky gimmick call." And the 3rd down draw that goes for 14 yards after the halfback breaks five tackles is not Inspired "sound percentage football." Lord, hear my plea lest I smite my plasma.

Lord, let not the harlots in our athletic department sell naming rights to every structure on campus, blare Taco Bell commercials during time outs, and further defile Our Sacred Saturday as a three hour infomercial.

Lord, let me care passionately, but with understanding. That the 19 year old who let a 6-5, 270, 4.6 40 lab cheetah run around him and give his quarterback spina bifida in front of 100,000 cheering lunatics is trying his best.

Lord, give my football coach the probability education or balls needed to go for it on 4th and 3 on the opponent 39 yard line. The intentional delay of game penalty and coffin corner punt is an affront to Your Divine Intentions And Blaise Pascal.

Lord, give Mike Leach bountiful health, For He Makes Your Divine Recreation Fun.

Lord, give us upsets. As many as possible. Except to our team.

Lord, smite down the BCS cartel with locusts and begin a divine audit of all of the bowl representative's expense reports, for I know that steak dinner was a lap dance.

Lord, may the five hookers that Craig James allegedly killed at SMU thrive in your jewel'd kingdom and revel in the divine comedy of his political ambitions.

Lord, let not Nike Pro Combat Mangler X-6000 Drone Mega-Assassin jerseys in anthracite and turquoise with studded silk capes replace Michigan's helmet, Texas's road whites, and Uga sprawled on an ice pack.

Lord, most of all, thank you for another glorious Fall featuring friends, friendly foes, and football.