If the Almighty Ran the NCAA
Epilogue
It is several years later.
God is seated at a large wooden desk. He looks at a huge celestial map affixed magically to a billowy, white cloud. He scratches his head, then opens an enormous cabinet and takes out a huge multi-color object with 34 sides. With two hands, he rolls it slowly across the floor until it stops, teal-side up.
God. Ah-HA!
God winds up like Roger Clemens and fires a lightning bolt off into space. A deafening CRACK is heard.
God. Hee-heeeeee-hee-hee-hee. Well, we'll just see what happens now.
He checks His watch.
God. Ah, Sunday. I can finally sit down.
God walks toward an enormous chair that closely resembles a throne as a heavenly chime sounds.
God. Enter!
Michael walks in. There is not much purpose to his stride. He looks like he's gone a few rounds with the Devil himself.
Michael. What was that all about?
God. Oh, just testing out a theory. Thought I'd pick out a random planet and try something new.
Michael. I like what you've done with the place. Is this desk new?
God. Alright...what's on your mind, Michael. I could peer inside if I wanted to, but something tells me you'd rather I not.
A long pause.
Michael. They're at it again.
God. Come around to my good ear, Michael.
Michael walks to the God's right hand; God motions him the other way.
God. Sorry, that side's reserved. Now what were you saying?
Michael. They're at it again.
God. Who's at it again?
Michael. The humans...on earth.
God. Can you be more specific? Which humans are at what again?
Michael. I can't take it anymore.
God. What?
Michael. I mean it this time.
God. Wait a minute, it's starting to come back to me....
Michael. I'm feeling awfully tempted to defect to the other side over this.
God. Alright, Michael, don't pull out that old saw. Nobody likes a whiner. Especially Me.
Michael. It's just that this is an impossible assignment.
God. We're not back into the NCAA Manual again are we?
Michael. I'm afraid so.
God. Oh, Me.
Michael. It's like they never learn.
God. (Impatiently) What is it this time?
Michael. They're in the middle of a legislative cycle again, and a whole bunch of stuff is like a whole bunch of stuff they adopted years ago, then later got rid of.
God. So?
Michael. So? So? So...it's an enormous waste of time. They pass all these rules, realize in a couple of years that they don't work very well, and then dump them. The current list is as long as my arm.
God. You have something against full employment? Michael, this is what humans do to entertain themselves. It helps them while away the time until you-know-when.
Michael. Well, then, here's an idea. Maybe there's some form of deterrent you could add. Like tack on a few more years in purgatory for passing bad rules. Whaddya say?
God. Sometimes you have to let people fail so that they learn.
Michael. It just seems like they're regressing. People are supposed to evolve, aren't they?
God. Sure. That was My plan, after all.
Michael. College quarterbacks don't even call their own plays any more. God knows radio wasn't created so it could find a home in a football helmet.
God. Indeed. And watch it, Michael, that one was pretty close to the line.
Michael. They want to limit text messaging! Set times of certain days that they can be sent. It's crazy!
God. Text messaging? Wait until they figure out they're telepathic. They should have some fun making rules to cover that. (Pause, then a devilish smile). Should I turn it on now?
Michael. Oh, please, God, don't.
God. C'mon, Mikey, where's your sense of humor? I know you have one. I gave it to you.
Michael. You have to do something.
God. Look, I've got only one Son, you know, and I'm saving him for something a lot bigger than adults sending text messages to kids.
Michael pulls out his trusty Newton.
Michael. Alright, here's the list. (reads) Text messaging...note cards, size and number of logos...
God. (interrupts) Are you still using that thing?
Michael. Until something better comes along.
God. Hmmm....Guess I need to send you-know-who a little reminder. He owes me one, you know.
In the distance we hear a clap of thunder.
God. That should do it. Anyway, I've heard enough of the list, thank you very much.
Michael. Sir, Gabe, Rafe, and I have been sitting on their shoulders, whispering in their ears for years now. The message isn't getting through.
God. What happens when you yell in their ears?
Michael. They just turn up the volume on their iPods a little louder.
God. Then try a podcast. And that's two Steve owes me. Look, you're just going to have to try a little harder. Eventually, they'll figure out they're going in circles.
A heavenly chime sounds.
God. (Rising from his chair) Well, there's my next appointment. (Toward door) Come in! (To Michael) See what you can do about all this before getting Me involved. Now where was I? (Picks up the die and rolls it again) Ah, yes. Corner of Ubiquity and Omnipotence.
Michael. (sighs) Okay, sir.
A raggedy-looking old man with wild white hair trundles in on a bicycle.
God. Oh, hello, Albert. I was just thinking about you.
BLACKOUT.