The preview shows were just ending and the first kickoff was in the air. God cracked open an ambrosia and had just scooped a corn chip in nectar when the phone rang. What now?!? He thought, but of course, being omnipotent, He already knew what they wanted. It was the same old shit as last week.
Please Lord, let me beat the spread.
God, please help the Lions make the playoffs just one more time before I die.
Oh most holy Father, make this preacher shut up so I can get home and watch the fucking game already.
Lord, please help the Broncos win.
Lord, please let the Seahawks win.
Lord, please let the Saints win, but only in a shootout because Drew Brees is the quarterback on my fantasy team but my opponent this week is playing the Saints’ defense, so I need a pretty specific kind of win, Big Guy. I got money on this. Amen.
And then, right on schedule, the weekly request from Florida. God, please give me a spot as a quarterback on an NFL team. I’ll do anything at all, really, anything, You name it. Love, Lil Timmy Tebow.
God shook His head. That boy would just never get the message.
More prayers poured in from every team’s fan base, stadiums, and locker rooms. As they increased in volume, the regular everyday prayers boomed in as well. God sighed and put down his drink, heaved his massive form from his chair. “I guess I got to go take care of some of this,” He said to the Holy Ghost. “Just once I’d like to kick back and enjoy the game.”