By DAVID BALUTANSKIOne Great Season
Hey, athletes, it's God here (supreme being, the OMG, creator of all that is seen and unseen, yada yada). How's your week going? Super. That's nice to hear. OK, glad everyone is good.
Um, this is a little awkward, but I just wanted to address something that's been bothering me and would love to chat before it becomes a bigger deal than it needs to be. I'm not really sure how to approach this but — oh hell, I'll just come right out and say it — can you guys please stop pointing up at Heaven when you do something "good" on the field?
First of all, and this may sting a little bit, but I really don't give a flying f*ck. As an omniscient being, I know the final score of every game played and every game that will be played, so it's kinda boring.
Secondly, I've got a lot going on up here. It's tough for me to get away and catch a game on a Saturday afternoon when, for example, there are 4.8 million children dying of starvation and malaria in Sub-Saharan Africa each year.
Quite honestly, I'm not that big of a sports guy. If I do get a rare afternoon free, I'd much rather take a nice bike ride, maybe check out a museum, go thrift shopping or have a leisurely brunch with friends. Sports just isn't my thing. I went to a small, liberal-arts college for chrissakes. We didn't even have a football program.
And another thing you idiots seem to forget is that there's only one God. So I don't really root for anyone to beat anyone else. I care about and love everyone equally — that's sorta my gig. So try to get this past your thick skull — when you jack that home run, I'm also the God of the pitcher who threw you that hanging slider. When you make the touchdown reception, I'm also the God of the defensive back who got burned on that sweet pump fake.
When Nick Swisher points to Heaven after a dinger, he implies that I bestowed certain blessings or powers upon his mighty bat as if I favor him over others. To take it a step further, do I then disfavor Minnesota Twins pitcher Scott Baker? Am I angry at him for not being nice to his wife or missing church last week? Do I punish him by letting Swisher pop a leather ball over a wall? No.
Finally, I don't really need the praise, guys. I know I'm great. I get it. I'm truly awesome. I don't really need to be thanked or glorified. Don't waste your energy. Stick to fist bumping your teammates. Your little points are pretty weak, ultimately egotistical and I'm not impressed. Now if you really want to impress me, Mr. Swisher, take that $6.8 million contract and build some hospitals in Africa.
Balutanski is a New York-based freelance writer and stand-up comedian who writes occasional pieces about the lighter side of sports for OGS.