Liverpool lost 1-0 to Manchester United, or, Why God gave me the DNA to support the latter and I have a secret charmin

I support Liverpool Football Club. Their website is visited by me nearly every day to look for news. My son requests wearing his Steven Gerrard #8 shirt when I put on my #7 Harry Kewell. On the door of our family bathroom there is a plaque with the club shield and my name. I've been to Anfield football ground three times and the team's aggregate score in those trips is 11-1 so I'd even like to think I'm a sort of good luck charm (or maybe it's the fact that they play shite teams when I visit). Sunday morning my friend Chris and I arrived at Brit's Pub in Minneapolis at 7:15 to watch them take on the hated rivals Manchester United. Argentine international Tevez scored in the 44th minute for the enemy (off a shot/pass from Liverpool native Wayne Rooney) and the Reds never recovered. Maybe I should have gone to church instead.

I was bummed. Thankfully, here at the Burntvedt Court my bunny ears receive quality religious programming. I got home just in time to change a poopy nappy and turn on inspiration-of-mine Joel Osteen. In my sports-induced-emotional-valley, he reached down and picked me up, promising me that I have the "DNA of a champion." He encouraged me that, as long as I am faithful, one of these days I'll "get the blessing that my heavenly father has in store for me." I felt so much better knowing that I was made by God to be "a victor not a victim." Duly encouraged I took a trip to the restroom and read "The Secret." I'm glad it was there because I ran out of toilet paper.

I'm not sure who I dislike more, Osteen or Manchester United. I think I'll send him a Tevez jersey for Christmas. He likes winners.