Well, Jesus, you got me. Here I was, praying to you for a Patriots loss. On my knees, begging. Begging! Naturally, I figured these calls were going to go unheeded. I mean, I know you love sports and all. I just figured you were too busy to really mess around with my trivial request. I guess that's what I get for doubting your omnipotence.
It looked bad for so long, too. The AFC Championship game win. Randy Moss scoring the go ahead touchdown with about three minutes left. There I was, guzzling beer and denying any association with you. I totally forgot that this is how you worked. Of course, I only denied you twice before the cock crowed. Peter did it thrice, but you knew that already. No, I'm not saying I'm better than Peter. Not yet.
So there we were, Jesus. Me, you and some kid in Sonora praying la migra won't find his tio in the desert. Tough times all around. Eli Manning had happy feet, was panicking in the pocket and heaving the ball off of his back foot. An interception looked like a likely outcome. And just when I thought all was lost, you swooped down, ripped Eli Manning away from those Patriots defenders, carried the ball 30 yards downfield and then pressed it against David Tyree's head. And then, for good measure, you put your hand on the ground so the ball wouldn't hit the turf. Amazing, Jesus. Simply amazing!
The Tyree catch was rolling the rock away and the Burress touchdown was the ascent into heaven. The icing on the cake.
So that's it, JC. You got me. I believe in you now. And not in a Pascal's Wager kinda way, either. The real deal. You and me, man. Together forever! (Assuming the Patriots never win another Super Bowl.)