The age old question remains, does God give a damn who wins a game? If you listened to the winners, it would certainly seem so with how many players are in a hurry to give the Almighty One all the credit. How come God never has to bear any burden for a defeat though. Praise abounds, but you never hear anyone blame Him/Her, do you? Where are the, “Yeah, I think we were doing well there until Jesus made me throw that interception.” Why no, “First, let me just blame God because God is bad.” Sure, Stevie Johnson hinted at Jesus not wanting him to catch a perfect overtime pass in the end zone from Ryan Fitzpatrick, but nobody has ever really pinned a defeat on divine intervention.

Truthfully though, if you were God, wouldn’t you do it? If for no other reason than to eff with people, wouldn’t you affect the outcomes of certain things? I’m not talking about Angels in the Outfield stuff here. I’m talking about karma. I’m talking about rebuttal to hypocrisy. I’m talking about penance for willful disregard of honorable play. Take Evander Holyfield for example. Holyfield was a boxing champion, an entertains brawler with a granite chin who never ducked an opponent no matter how fearsome (or hungry in Mike Tyson’s case). He was easy to cheer for because of his boxing exploits, but once he opened his mouth after a fight, it was nauseating. The Lord this and The Lord that…from a man with numerous illegitimate children outside his marriage. If you were The Lord, wouldn’t you bestow upon him crippling financial problems and slurred speech due to likely CTE?

Or what if you were Jesus, just chillin with your dad on a fluffy cloud, draining a few beers, watching a very entertaining NLCS between the Giants and Cardinals with no vested interest in a winner. Wouldn’t Matt Holliday’s borderline criminal slide to take out Marco Scutaro, a classy veteran who plays the game right, compel you to afflict Holliday with a bad back, forcing him to sit idly by and ultimately participate at a fraction of his ability while you flatten out his pitchers’ breaking pitches at crucial times and turn his teammates’ formidable wooden bats to flimsy cardboard giftwrap rolls?

Tell me you wouldn’t. Tell me you wouldn’t punish the hypocrites and charlatans. Or maybe you already are, and while you’re at it, just for kicks you’re condemning the blogger who outed your shenanigans to the sporting world to a mundane and banal existence jockeying a painfully bland desk for a living. I’d like to thank The Lord…especially if He/She can now throw a Dodger fan a bone and not let San Francisco beat Detroit in the World Series. If God can do me that one solid, I’d like to thank The Lord…