If you're confused by this, you can find last year's here.
Basically, I like to kick off the season with a non-denominational prayer to the Football Gods themselves. Sure, they're capricious and sometimes downright cruel—especially to Falcons fans—but my last two pleas have been rewarded with the sweet nectar of winning. I have to do it again.
So let us clasp our foam hands together and pray that what talent alone cannot do, the invisible and unquantifiable powers of imaginary deities can make up for it. As always, it helps to get absolutely hammered off some communal Falcohol first.
Dear handsome and brilliant football gods...and hey, I just noticed your new shirts! Are those silk? Ahem,
Hear my plea! You have granted us the taste of success for two years in a row now, forever spoiling we lowly Falcons fans, who had long suffered the losses and more losses of outrageous fortune. So now, while still humble, we cometh backeth beforeth youeth to request that our beloved birds soar to even greater heights in this, the year of our NFL 2010.
Let our team be healthy. Let Michael Turner's ankles be reinforced by the mythril of the gods, let Matt Ryan's toes be infused with the essence of warriors, and let William Moore not fly into a million pieces during a tackle, leaving behind only stardust.
Let our team be great. Let Tony Gonzalez put Father Time into a headlock and lecture him on the importance of protein, let Dunta Robinson re-discover the talent that made him so great for the Houston Texans eons ago, and let Matt Bryant launch every kick through the uprights, out of the Georgia Dome and into outer space.
Above all, grant us patience. We are merely men and women who wish to see our football team deliver glory unto us, sorta like a pizza/glory delivery man hybrid. Grant us the strength to survive Michael Jenkins trying to catch passes with his flippers. Grant us the wisdom to know that just because John Abraham isn't getting sacks doesn't mean he isn't any good. Grant us some money, because we could really use some more beer.
In your hallowed names....which embarrassingly, we've kinda forgotten....let us make the playoffs, where Mike Smith may ride down in a chariot made of Antonio Bryant and bring us the hope of a Super Bowl berth. We ask this, and more, because we are only human, and thus selfish and weak. But above all, let us enjoy our Atlanta Falcons, for these days will come but once.