| REDSKINS POEMS |
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| "God, Are You There? It's Me, Gus Frerotte" Written on November 2, 1998 A poem, written in the midst of the Washington Redskins' woeful 0-7 start, about a quarterback's prayer for divine intervention. One November night in Washington, Long after the time of the setting sun, A quarterback knelt down to pray. He folded his hands and started to say, "God, are you there? It's me Gus Frerotte. It seems to me that you have forgot The Redskins and their fans throughout D.C. Are you preoccupied with Ms. Lewinsky? Well, the defense is porous; the offense is dead (Maybe to you and your angels they've fled), And the kickers, now, the last part of our strife, Couldn't kick a darned field goal for their life. There's a mystery; for me it's gripping: Why the heck do I keep tripping? Terry Allen's O.K., but his knees are nicked. Is that we keep getting our butts kicked? The offensive line couldn't stop my grandma; After every play, green grass I saw. Now the receivers, Michael and Leslie are good, And I'd throw it to them (that's if I could). Darrel's playing great, but Dishman is not; Is there really any bright spot? Yes, of course, it comes like a slap! But, heck, even the punter has fumbled a snap. Week 1 vs. the Giants, Week 2 vs. San Fran, Week 3 vs. Denver: the playoffs - we can! Week 4 vs. Seattle, Week 5 vs. Dallas, This is our worst start since the days of George Halas. Week 6 vs. Philly, Week 7 vs. the Vikes, It's starting to scare D.C.'s little tykes! I'm saying this on a bye week for a reason: I don't want to get tried for treason! But I have a plan that no doubt will work; There are no loopholes; there isn't a quirk; Sell of the team and move it to Houston; Get D.C. and expansion team for it to be boostin'! Now my prayer comes to a close; I slip into my own bedclothes, I'm wondering if you'll hear my prayer, Or if you'll just start laughing up there. Amen." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- He slept on this prayer and laid down his head. He slept very soundly in his bed. The next Sunday, he watched from the bench, As the third string quarterback came out of the trench. The Giants looked ready; the Giants looked hard, But little did us fans know, New York let down its guard! The Skins led at half, 14-7 was the score, It was 21-7 next; they were looking for more! The lead was cut in half; the tension grew and grew, But on 4th and 3, the stop was made - no longer were we blue! 21-14 - a modest score, but a "W" nonetheless. Maybe it was Gus's prayer our troubles made God bless. And now we go to Tempe, the Cardinals to play; The winless demons haunting us Trent Green had come to slay! We're 1-7; we're happy now; 9-7? We just may! But, honestly, I don't think so - we're dead 'till Judgement day! I believe we've got some work to do, but, meanwhile, let's just play! The playoffs can wait for another year; for that we'll have to pray. . . And I mean hard. |
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