Dear Fantasy Football God,
First of all, all Glory to You for commencing the fantasy football
season. Thy layoff has been insufferable.
My friends keep telling me that You don't exist and laughing at me for praying to You . But I believe. I still have faith.
Oh I know I've been doing this for about eight years, and you've yet to grant me a championship. But I also know that You're just testing me. The real test of faith is whether a person can believe when times are tough.
You already proved Your love to me when you sent me a vision before the NFL season that just began telling me not to waste a high draft pick onDerek Anderson
, even though he's a former OSU Beaver.
Truly he appears destined to join the ranks of QBs from Oregon schools such as grounded Ducks Joey Harrington
and Akili Smith.
Thank You also for allowing me to avoid drafting any Seattle Seahawks.
. They play in a poor excuse for an artsy Pacific Northwest city and truly, they shall be punished for failing to be Portland. You in Your Infinite Wisdom have denied granting us our own NFL team for reasons that are beyond my comprehension, but
I know You did not mean for us to pick players from such a hideous team
simply because they are geographically close.
I know when You struck down New England's Tom Brady
yesterday, it was to punish all those sinners foolish enough to take a quarterback with the first pick in the draft. That violates Thy Holy Covenant by not taking the Best Running Back First, in defiance of the prophecies. Thou art a jealous God, and we should know not to tempt You with such hubris.
I also know that when You allowed Philadelphia's Donovan McNabb to score 32 fantasy points against me yesterday for my buddy Tom's team, it was only so You could test me en route to my ultimate championship. Oh, Tom thinks he's tough shit for the moment. But we both know he's got another thing coming.
It is just like when You allowed Dusty to win the league championship last year after giving him the scoring title the year before, forcing me to listen to yet another year of his insufferable bragging. Yes, he is shooting arrows of conceit from his mouth now. But pride goeth before a fall, and it is so good of You to teach him this lesson.
Soon he will lie in the pit, struck down by Your wrath, his hateful weapon broken, as I dance atop the mountain with my trophy in hand, and all he will be able to do is watch.
Yes, though it looks like I'm getting off to another rocky start this year, I know that this is the season when I will finally take home the championship. Verily, it will be so sweet when I finally win, so incredibly fucking sweet. Then those sons of bitches will see how great I…I mean You, really are.
Thank You, Lord.