My Gift is My Curse

It’s true. I have a super natural talent that has made my life miserable for decades and fractions of decades. Whoever I say is going to win a sporting event always wins that event. I know, it’s hard to believe, but I assure you of its validity. How else can you explain the New York Giant’s Super Bowl XLII win over the undefeated New England Patriots? Buster Douglas over Mike Tyson in 1990? Appalachian State over the University of Michigan in 2007 (I attended MSU)? The first team/individual I say is going to win – they always win.

At first glance, this talent may appear as a blessing, like I’m living out the story line of Back to the Future II minus the hoverboards and Trumpesque Tower in a Detroitesque setting. Clearly, life sucked for almost everyone in that situation, but Biff had it pretty good for a little bit, that’s all I mean. Perhaps you imagine that I should be a billionaire living the high life, hanging out with the dude from the Miller High Life commercials. This is not me.

This couldn’t even be a possibility. I’m not the type of man who can keep a secret, no matter the significance. Trust me. I wasn’t even able to refrain from telling everyone I know that I shit my pants five minutes before I went on stage at a festival earlier this year, nor am I able to conceal that information from anyone who just read that segment. I’m not that cool guy in “Jumper” who was able to keep his super powers a secret from the world. In fact, I’m not even a cool enough guy to not watch “Jumper.”

So of course the government found out about me. Could you imagine the liability I posed if the public found out first? There would be no more competition in sports, all the excitement of who was going to win would come down to, oh we heard from Harry that blah blah was going to beat blah blah, so let’s just watch reruns of Malcom in the Middle instead. Mafiosos would be frothing at the bit to kidnap me and use me as their permanent money maker. Some of my friends, like @DetroitOnLion (twitterer and blogger) would never speak to me again for ruining their lives and torturing them in the past. Sports is one of the largest markets in the world and there is no way Big Brother was going to let me take it down. They told me I could either spend the rest of my life in an isolation, hidden from society in some building, be executed, or I could sign an agreement saying I would act in a manner to defame my reputation.

Well, that’s what I’ve been doing. Now, however, I need to come clean. It’s been eating away at my conscious for way too long. I have the gift, but I still want to live a normal life. So when you mock me for my eight consecutive losing seasons in my Yahoo! NFL Pick’Em league, please note that this I’m doing this for you, the people. Again, it’s not that I suck at picking who’s going to win and lose; I secretly say to myself who’s going to win and then record the wrong answer form y own, and everyone else’s safety. I just need to throw everybody else off so the game’s still fun. Anyway, you’re welcome.

1 comment

  1. You’re a monster. A monster that has been lurking right under my nose this whole time. Not only can we not be friends anymore, but I don’t think we every truly were friends. Everything I know is a lie, and everything that is a lie has ruined the reality I thought I was living in.

    May God have mercy on your soul (if you decide to take God with the points).

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