Houston Sports Information Ministries - Week Five

Play Mood Music Here.

Brothers and sisters, what happened last Sunday cannot be sugarcoated by sweet words that will mend the hearts of our fellow fan. What happened Sunday was the sinister work of The Dark One, Bud, and all his minions. They strive for eternity to bring suffering and heartache to the innocent flock of Texans fans. They are consumed, I tell you, by their jealousy, their agony, and the unfettered joy that Texans football spreads to all their fans.

Can I get a “Praise Toro!” in here?

There is little positive that you can say about losing 40-0, short of saying that at least it wasn’t 41-0. But there are positive aspects to this defeat that I think many of you have overlooked in your vast sorrow. Allow me to illuminate them for you now.

Consider the humble wombat.

I know you may think you misunderstood me, but I’m being serious here. Consider the wombat.

You may look at this modest creature and think little of it, other than how cute and cuddly it is and how can I get it as a pet. But there is far more beneath the surface than you can possibly understand. Beneath that fuzzy, playful exterior beats the heart of a vicious killer.

Laugh if you will. This is nothing but the Toro’s honest truth. The secret to the wombat’s little-known savage reputation is how it attacks and defends against predators.

The secret is its butt.

When a wombat wants to protect its family from predators in the wilds of Australia—and there are plenty, mind you—the wombat family will hide in the burrow and the protector wombat will hide with only its butt sticking out.

Say you’re a ding. You’re looking around for a delicious snack of wom-butt waiting to be snacked on and enjoyed (minds out of gutters, please; this is a family friendly sermon). Little does that dingo know that the butt of a wombat is comprised of four plates of solid bone fused together covered by cartilage, fat, thick skin, and fur. The dingo could scratch and claw and gnaw on that backside while the wombat won’t even hardly feel it.

Same thing on offense. When a wombat wants to eliminate a predator, it will lure that predator into its warren and use its powerful buttocks to crush the predator’s skull against the roof of its burrow.

How did the wombat get this glorious booty? It didn’t just fall out of the sky with it. No, brothers and sisters, it took time, pain, and struggle to develop the butt strength to block out the pain caused by external forces and wreak havoc against those who would destroy the wombat.

What, you may ask, do armored wombat rumps have to do with the one true football team?

Everything! Ev-ery-thing!

We are surrounded on all sides by malevolent forces bent on our destruction and humiliation. Wvery so often, we will be subjected to that humiliation, but that is the good news, friends. Because every one of those humiliations, those butt whoopings the Texans get, only makes our wombat butts that much stronger, that much more impervious to their pain. It only makes us that much more dangerous an adversary. For when they least expect it, we will use our butts of majesty to smash our enemies’ heads against the burrows of justice for the glory of McNair!

Ours is the power, the might, and the resilience of armored wombat butts. We will someday no longer feel the pain of a butt whooping! We will give those butt whoopings to our enemies, whose butts will be far less prepared for our attacks! That is the will of McNair and the will of the Texans!

Now, open up your playbooks to the Book of Jack, Ch. 6, Verse 66.

Make for me an altar of turf and sacrifice your burnt offerings of draft picks and your sacrifices of well-being, your bulls, and your liver.

We need to remember that our sacrifice of Texans football this year and possibly next will grant rewards to the Texans faithful. Rewards of victory everlasting, and extremely powerful wombat butts.

In the name of McNair The Father, McNair The Son, and the Holy Toro, we say: Go Texans!