First of all, let me apologize about the fifteen years I've been out of touch. The last time I visited you (on a non-holiday) was at St. Mary's Church in 1993, and that day I sat behind an old man who lost control of his bowels during mass and let a forty-five second fart fly that sounded like You were unzipping the sky. After this spectacle of Monty Python-esque proportions, the old man turned to me, shrugged, and said, "What are you going to do?" Understandably, I broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter and had to excuse myself from the church and continue busting a gut in my car. I suppose that was slightly blasphemous.
No. I don't have any good excuses for not attending to mass or praying since then. There was a short stint in college where I fancied myself an intellectual and started reading Neitzsche and talking about how You had died. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. But from what I hear, You're a pretty reasonable Deity, and it is with the utmost respect and contrition that I come to You with one humble, mortal request.
Before I get to that, I'd like to thank You for allowing The Red Sox to advance to the ALCS. I'm sure I'm not saying anything You haven't already heard from Curt Schilling, but the three game sweep of Angels (one might be inclined to think you'd favor Angels over Red Sox, but, once again, You've proven Yourself just and benevolent) was pretty goddamn sweet. Oops. Sorry.
Now, I come to You, as Your humble servant, to ask that You please, please, PLEASE make The Yankees lose tonight. Look, Cleveland has Trot Nixon playing for them, and after listening to the man in interviews for nearly a decade, I can say with some certainty that there's no one who digs your son more than Trot. Nixon credited Jesus for everything from a game-winning homerun to the passing of a healthy stool. You owe it to Trot, God. Think about that.
Then there's the fact that The Yankees are evil incarnate, the children of Beelzebub. If The Indians were to win tonight, I would see this as a classic example of Good triumphing over Evil on earth. It was very kind of You to strip that fat, greedy bastard Roger Clemens of his ability to pitch last night, thus making him a big $20 million lemon in the lot at The Bronx. Now, all I ask is that You, in Your infinite love and kindness, make those assbags in pinstripes lose tonight. It would be even better if You could also find a way to humiliate Johnny "Judas" Damon or Gay-Rod. Perhaps You could have one of those guys, like the gentleman in my last memory of church, lose control of their bowels while swinging at Strike Three with the bases loaded, turning to the crowd and the national audience with indelible brown stain on their pinstriped ass. But I don't want to seem too indulgent. It's a sin.
Thank you for listening to me, God. Hopefully, tomorrow the clouds will part and I'll see You smiling down at me and my fellow Red Sox fans.
P.S. You really need to lighten up on The Cubs. This is reminiscent of Your malevolent Self that punished the Puritans.