Screw Superstitions

Harrison Smith

So in Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Leia turns to a near carbonite Han and says “I love you.”

And in all his eternal glory Han Solo responds “I know.”

What a son of a bitch.

He won.

The dude was going to be turned into a literal rock, and he’s like, “I’m good, lemme win this shit.”

On Sunday, January 14th, year of our lord two thousand eighteen, Messers Keenum and Diggs said that they’re tired of having luck go the other way, so Keenum called up the ghost of Sam Houston (why they’re the Cougars I couldn’t tell you) and they said enough of this bullshit, be Han Solo, it’s time to win.

And he did.

I would love to say that there is some long ridiculous lineage of Keenum winning titles on titles on titles. When in reality I think (think?) he won something in high school in Texas (that’s legit right?). I mean I’m sure the kid won a game or two, but I drank the Kool-Aid, and these kids really were the definition of OK. Keenum broke records, it was real fun. Look up a list, this guy only beats records. But, to be frank, this guy was no Brady.

But why not?

What makes Brady? Well, it’s dashing good looks, it’s an above average arm, and it’s an average vision. So where does Keenum fit in this?

He doesn’t.

Case Keenum is a badass cold blooded murderer. And he may be the right hand man of my lord and savior Jesus H. Christ. But the best part? Who the hell cares? What rocks is that we’re dealing with a bunch of obnoxious Pats fans and they’re literally saying “Brian Hoyer can do it.”


Yeah that’s not happening. But moral of the story, the Pats are legendary, until they’re not. I would challenge all Minnesotans, and all Vikings fans across the globe, stop and appreciate the moment.

And then, be a cocky son of a bitch. Win. You have my permission, you have the governor’s permission, you have the state’s permission. Believe that you are destined to win.

That’s what makes the difference. We knock on wood, they buy plane tickets. We wear lucky underwear and they wear their Brady jerseys to church. We drink the same beer or talk to the same people or look at the same websites and I’m here to tell you to get the hell out of here.

Quit apologizing.

Maybe we don’t win it all this year. But we will. Maybe we cry a bit, well Brady did twice against Coughlin. This is what it’s all about. We will win. I’m sick and tired of people dancing around it. Win the goddamn thing.

This is what Han Solo said a long time ago in a galaxy far far away, “I know.” This cocky son of a bitch won the goddamn thing and he didn’t care, he won. He was the scoundrel, she was the princess, but they fell for each other, so why not? So what would Han Solo want us to do now?

He wants us to stop pretending like we don’t care, we do. We’re ridiculously emotional about it, I’ll cry, no doubt. The superstition factor is dumb. Just win. When you start to win, stop caring about superstition, it’ll work. Just win it. And win it now.


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