aka "my annual prayer pre-OU"
God love you, God. Bless your heart. Each year I ask, nay, beg of you for a Longhorn victory in the Cotton Bowl. In your infinite wisdom, you've denied me for the past few years. I know it is in order to increase my appreciation of your eventual benevolence...until January 1, 2003. While I was grateful for the win over LSU, of course, you know damned good and freaking well (pardon my French) that I wasn't exactly dreaming of New Year's Day in that you-forsaken hellhole. There is only one day every year when the Cotton Bowl is truly the field of dreams, and it happens on the second Saturday in October. So, this year, I'm going to be specific.
Please help all of us (even the children of Lucifer from the North) travel safely to Dallas and remember that at all times, if we end up crashing or getting thrown in jail before gametime on Saturday, then the whole damned thing was a waste. Don't let us drink and drive. Don't let us get in stupid fights with people with no teeth named "Crunch." Don't let us ever stoop (forgive the pun) to the level of our opponents. Let us always remember that at the end of Saturday, it is we, your chosen people, who get to drive home to Austin. I consider that your sign, like the rainbow was to Noah, that life will indeed go on regardless of the game's outcome.
Remind us gently, because you know how we get, that there are far more important battles going on in the world on Saturday, and that there are far more desperate and miserable fates to be had in this world than to be at the state fair of the Great State of Texas, amongst friends. Of course, if something inconvenient but not tragic happened to keep half the sooner nation from converging on our great state, all the better. But I don't want to get piggy.
Lay your healing hands on all of our players who've been hobbled by injury so far this season. Embolden those who have not to reach higher and achieve more than even they have dreamed. Encourage our coordinators to call the game as if it were the first in their career, back when they were young and unafraid...back before the evil internet allowed the experts to point out to the world their failures and caused these men to curl up in the fetal position rather than throw the ball downfield. You've blessed both our QBs and all of our receivers with truly gifted arms and legs. Can you please allow us to make the fullest use of those gifts without letting our fears get in the way? We trust you. We trust our players. Our players trust each other. Let It Be, Lord, Let It Be. (while I'm at it, tell George and John hello.)
Send us glorious weather and vaccinate us with your spirit so that the bacteria, grease, and grime we consume and otherwise come into contact with at the Fair doesn't send us to the hospital.
And please Lord, because your servant horndfl just doesn't seem to think it appropriate to ask this year, allow me to do it for him:
Please, dear God, help the University of Texas Longhorns to stomp a bloody mudhole in the sooners asses this year on October 11. In return, I promise to be very, very good.
Thank you, and You Bless You.
Hook 'em
sp
God love you, God. Bless your heart. Each year I ask, nay, beg of you for a Longhorn victory in the Cotton Bowl. In your infinite wisdom, you've denied me for the past few years. I know it is in order to increase my appreciation of your eventual benevolence...until January 1, 2003. While I was grateful for the win over LSU, of course, you know damned good and freaking well (pardon my French) that I wasn't exactly dreaming of New Year's Day in that you-forsaken hellhole. There is only one day every year when the Cotton Bowl is truly the field of dreams, and it happens on the second Saturday in October. So, this year, I'm going to be specific.
Please help all of us (even the children of Lucifer from the North) travel safely to Dallas and remember that at all times, if we end up crashing or getting thrown in jail before gametime on Saturday, then the whole damned thing was a waste. Don't let us drink and drive. Don't let us get in stupid fights with people with no teeth named "Crunch." Don't let us ever stoop (forgive the pun) to the level of our opponents. Let us always remember that at the end of Saturday, it is we, your chosen people, who get to drive home to Austin. I consider that your sign, like the rainbow was to Noah, that life will indeed go on regardless of the game's outcome.
Remind us gently, because you know how we get, that there are far more important battles going on in the world on Saturday, and that there are far more desperate and miserable fates to be had in this world than to be at the state fair of the Great State of Texas, amongst friends. Of course, if something inconvenient but not tragic happened to keep half the sooner nation from converging on our great state, all the better. But I don't want to get piggy.
Lay your healing hands on all of our players who've been hobbled by injury so far this season. Embolden those who have not to reach higher and achieve more than even they have dreamed. Encourage our coordinators to call the game as if it were the first in their career, back when they were young and unafraid...back before the evil internet allowed the experts to point out to the world their failures and caused these men to curl up in the fetal position rather than throw the ball downfield. You've blessed both our QBs and all of our receivers with truly gifted arms and legs. Can you please allow us to make the fullest use of those gifts without letting our fears get in the way? We trust you. We trust our players. Our players trust each other. Let It Be, Lord, Let It Be. (while I'm at it, tell George and John hello.)
Send us glorious weather and vaccinate us with your spirit so that the bacteria, grease, and grime we consume and otherwise come into contact with at the Fair doesn't send us to the hospital.
And please Lord, because your servant horndfl just doesn't seem to think it appropriate to ask this year, allow me to do it for him:
Please, dear God, help the University of Texas Longhorns to stomp a bloody mudhole in the sooners asses this year on October 11. In return, I promise to be very, very good.
Thank you, and You Bless You.
Hook 'em
sp
