Musings and A Poem
Well you see, there are three kinds of seasons for a Baltimoron. There's a great season. That's when the Ravens win the Super Bowl. Next there's a good season, that's any season where the Colts don't. There is a third variety and that's the perfect season. A perfect season entails the meeting of The Ravens and The Colts in the AFC Championship game where Peyton Manning is given a non-life altering, career ending injury and the Colts are so mercilessly pounded they give back the uniforms and records at the end of the game. The Ravens gratefully accept, then go on to win the Superbowl. There is also a Super-Perfect season, that's identical to the perfect season except SuperOceanLad has seats on the fifty.
You see, it's about destiny. Even with a few horrible calls and a concerted effort by the officials to get Peyton into the Superbowl, Indianapolis lost. Their are forces at work more powerfull than the referees. I think John Unitas gets an assist on Ben Rothlisberger's game saving tackle. I'm pretty sure the ghost of my dad was hanging on to Vanderjagt's leg when he shanked that kick.
In conclusion, I have written a poem that I call Suck It Indy.
Suck It Indy
Suck it, Indy.
Suck it, suck it suck it.
Indy, you suck, so I request that you suck it,
Adendum: Comedians have been suggesting it for a decade, now it's happened. A professional football player has blamed God for a loss. Mike Vanderjagdt of the Colts said, "I guess the Lord forgot about the football team."