Stewing in discontent can be a wonderful creative muse. All you fans of football programs that don't inspire an annual wish for death just so that the suffering will end should consider changing your respective allegiances.
Today, as I read: that Michigan, trying to get one more QB for this class given the departure of Matt Gutierrez, is now targeting some Cracker Jack prize who probably won't ever take a snap named Lee Mondol (while Notre Dame turns away the Mitch Mustains of the world); that Michigan probably will close this recruiting year without getting the premier OT and additional safety that it needs; and that the mothereffing Columbus Dispatch has a graphic on its website THAT COUNTS UP THE NUMBER OF DAYS SINCE MICHIGAN LAST BEAT THE MINIMUM SECURITY PRISON AND HOME FOR THE MENTALLY CHALLENGED (794!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), I finally lost it.
I know, most of my life would lead an anonymous observer to conclude that this process had occurred either in utero or shortly after I started polluting this world with my Star and Buc-style hateration. I accept that. But if that's what you believe, then please allow your imagination to run even wilder than Hulkamania as you attempt to reconcile my outstanding level of lunacy with what it must look like when enhanced by the singular insanity of something that you love hurting you so dearly. That's where I'm at right now. (And actually, can someone who reads this and knows me please come to my house and check to make sure that I am still drawing breath? Thanks; the key is under the mat.)
But I am not far gone enough to have lost all contact with reality. I mean, I'm typing, amn't I? Yes, and thus, I know that I want things to change. What's that sappy quotation that people use at the end of emails and paint onto coffee mugs? "Be the change that you seek in the world"? Something like that? Well, let's make that a reality. Everybody, let's write a letter to God.
I know what you're thinking: David Stern already gets a lot of mail. I realize that, but for the sake of harmonious interfaith collaboration, let's not yet specify where the letter is getting delivered (Mecca, Jerusalem, Fifth Avenue, the Egyptian-palace set piece used in Ten Commandments, etc.--they're all nice). No, for the time being, let's instead focus on making this the best letter possible; content matters. I think it has become obvious that we Michigan fans need more help than anything Bill Martin or Lloyd Carr can offer, so let's pool our intellectual resources and demonstrate the sort of industry that would make Gerald Ford, Lucy Liu, and Ted Kaczynski proud.
Here's the idea: we need to explain to (the) G/god(s) all that has befallen our football program and explain why we think rectifying the situation in full would be beneficial to all of his/her/its/their children (at least, the righteous ones who might one day be eligible for some kind of supernatural reward). Now, we musn't go overboard. I am not writing anything as embarrassing as "Dear ____, please send us an endless supply of crystal trophies." Where's the fun or the realism in that? No, we need to keep it urgent but sensible--free weights; a strength coach who doesn't consider Papa John the leading authority on nutrition; some older fans who aren't embarrassed or upset by displays of emotion. That kind of stuff.
So please help me out. Let's collectively compose an open letter to a higher power explaining what is wrong with Michigan football and how we would like it to be fixed. Be creative; be smart; and be funny if you can. As I already "said,"
David Stern you know who/what already gets a lot of letters, and they must get boring after a while. Is this gonna work? Well, I do think that we're gonna be addressing a sports fan. I mean, have you heard athletes after competitive events? Their always thanking the/a lord for help.
Now just don't leave me hanging in the comments section.