Prayers and pigskin

Each night, when I lay my head to sleep, I say a set of standard prayers. Been saying them for years, virtually the same spiel, and could recite them in my sleep. I could add a few ammendums, however, such as:

* Please Lord, make McKenzie stop dancing like a Pussycat Doll. She's 7.

* Please Lord, make McKenzie stop treating McCoy like a P.O.W.

* Please Lord, don't ever let me be as hairy, concave and generally goofy as Chevy Chase before I jump into a swimming pool with a supermodel.

* Please Lord, let McCoy someday say something other than 'ball.'

* And thank you Lord, for letting the election come tomorrow.

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Exciting stuff on Saturday. While I was pulling for the 'Horns - okay, I admit it, I have a man crush on Colt McCoy - I still would have felt a little bad for the Red Raiders had they blown it. Even the most diehard Orangeblood would have to concede that TT look more prepared, more inspired and probably deserved to win. I guess it's the West Texan in me...

(A sincere apology goes out to the 117-pound busboy at Matt's El Rancho, where we took in the game. When Blake Gideon made the late 'interception,' I jumped on the poor kid's back and galloped him around the joint. Wait, he dropped it?)

Take heart, though, Horns faithful. In the same week last season, Ohio State lost to Illinois and was given up for dead. A couple months later, they were getting pounded by LSU in the national championship game. Lotta football left to play and upsets to be found, so keep the faith...