QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about worship. Listen to the quarterback coach in McKinney in Dallas. Trust your quarterback lessons in McKinney in Dallas. He can move the mountains. You are waving your hands in the air. You volunteered for the church choir. Its your deepest passion. Every sunday living out your dreams vicariously through god. Not American idol. Or the Voice. Or packing your shit up and moving to LA, joining the cast of Vanderpump Rules, and becoming a reality star in between trying to sing and get movie roles. Man you make a hell of a mojito. Love these spearmint leaves. I feel like I just brushed my teeth. Our god is a great god. You sing it clear and proud. Looking up at the monitor with the words flashing. I am standing there in the crowd wondering whether this person has to read those words as she goes, or she already knows them, and then how does she know the flow of the lyrics. It doesn't matter- just feel the music. Feel the crowd. Church ends and you go to a nice lunch, BBQ or something, maybe some breakfast liquor like hmm I think I will have the mimosa carafe for $24 dollars. How many does it make? 4. I am half convinced that when people pick their restaurant location. They are like - Is there a local church nearby? And scout it out. Hey its Sunday and I have a free pass to drink all day long. But I don't. I log into Twitter and I see everyone tweeting about some ridiculous catch, or a player that is so big and strong. Take Zion Williams. Man look at his incredible dunk. 100 comments about how he is 6'8 280 pounds. I get confused because my whole life I have only worshipped myself. And all of these people are worshipping others. What does that mean? Should I have compassion and empathy that maybe for once in their lives they want to watch a video or read an article, close their eyes, put on some morning music on youtube, and pretend it was them dunking the whole time. Do they get so convinced that they go to Dicks Sporting Goods and buy a basketball, go home, and try to dunk. Then can't dunk, and they get frustrated and throw the basketball into the garage. Go back inside and start watching more videos again. Is watching twitter videos of people dunking medicinal? for common folks. Do they go to the doctor and say? Doc, I have a problem. Yes, son. I can't dunk. Here son. He looks down, and the doctor retweets him 5 of Zion's dunks. Watch these for 2 hours per day until you feel better. Yes, doctor. I want you to deal with your problems by becoming rich. I want you to deal with your problems by watching others perform. But its all in the name of fun & games. Right. They say you can't talk politics in sports because its the one place where you go to get away from it all. Sports isn't the real world. Its for comic book heroes. Spider man plays wide receiver for the bucs, not you. Give or take a Mark Walhberg joining the eagles from his dumpster in Philly. I could never play sports. Only IRON MAN can play defensive line. A guy who is 6'8 280 pounds and bench presses 500 pounds, runs a 4.6 forty, and is mean. I am just the assistant manager at Burger King on the 2nd shift. Carol, throw those god damn chicken nuggets in the fryer. The line is backing up. Opens phone and checks scores on ESPN. How is another man performing? While I slave away here at Burger King. Sweating my balls off in the kitchen. I have cut open thirty bags of fries today. Just ripped them open with my bare hands. I bet Zion couldn't do that shit. I am the greatest French fry bag opener in the fucking world. No one can stop me. So what happens is that we have created a world where we worship others and ourselves right out of our own hopes & dreams. Right out of our own goals. You see Cam Newton throw a deep pass, and its beautiful. But its a trick. A double edged sword. A spell. You just into a slider portal with Jerry O'Connell. Your worship of that throw, is actually holding you back. You are scared of that throw. You are actually scared of Cam Newton. You look around at all these sports writers. With glasses on, dorky haircuts, and bad skin, face and bone structures. Worshipping athletes & sports. They are not worshipping them for the good of grace. They have grown up their entire lives with a phobia. They probably had parents somewhere along the way that told them they weren't good enough. They had friends and peers who concaved their egos. Nobody puts baby in the corner. They are all that Disney character. The one whose sisters force her to clean the house all day. Until she escapes with the slipper. Cinderella. They are all the Cinderella story. But minus the glass slipper ending. Instead their lives are like the movie the matrix. Morpheus is their friend in 7th grade. He has a blue pill and a football in the other hand. He says -- if you take the football son you may never come back. If you take the blue pill you will sync like the wifi loading a youtube video of high school kids paying private coaches to get better at quarterback on Instagram. The sports writer looks up nervous at Morpheus. He flashbacks to the time someone threw him a pass and he dropped it. Uhh, he drops out of the fantasy like the Kardashians jumped out of an airplane last episode. One more notch off my bucket list. He takes the blue pill. And melts like a candle lighting the cabin of Henry David Thoreau. Its quiet. Henry looks around and realizes no one is there including any type of crowds or customers. He is running low on money, packs his shit up and heads back to town. When he gets there he sees that they have built a railroad station, and there is someone new at Sheriff. But its only been a few days since he left for Walden Pond. What happened? Man I remember being in 8th grade. This fucking idiot named Devin went around school telling everyone he was a great quarterback, and a great passer. He wasn't bad, but he wasn't me. So we get to PE, and have a deep ball contest. He throws the ball 40 yards. I take the ball, and give my arm one good wind up, and toss it about 55 yards. The PE teacher Ms. Peggy looks at me. She is a dyke but a solid PE teacher. Literally. She just stares at me. It was the first time that she had ever seen a god in person. She declares me the winner. Couldn't believe her eyes. I was her favorite Instagram video back when there were flip phones. Devin said that he was tired, and sleepy and that's why he lost. Within a few hours everyone in the school knew who there daddy was. Walking up to me and high fiving me. Worshipping me. Hundreds of them. I had one friend named Brian who mocked the idea that I was going to be the starting quarterback in High School. His loser dipshit brother told me I had no form. This kid was a backup wide receiver for the high school team. Billy. I just stared at him like an alligator staring at a bison sip water from his death penalty box shoreline. See what Brian did there was still considered a form of worship. He thought about me so much that he actually wrote my eulogy for me. He had my whole entire life planned out for me because he worshipped me so much. I had an entire folder in his brain. He thought about me like I was Microsoft word. Just constantly clicking on me, and turning me in as his thesis in college. I don't know. Devin is in jail. Brian went to the army. I was just in my backyard taking 5 step drops and throwing to trees, and tires, and the grass. Running and chasing the ball. Picking it up and throwing it the other direction. I chose the ball remember. Morpheus said take the football or the blue pill. I snatched the ball out of his hands. I dropped back and fired it as his face. And broke those stupid fucking glasses. Turns out Morpheus couldn't catch a cold in the winter. Remember that story where a guy is begging for a fish. A sportswriter commenting and writing stories about an athlete. Begging to be him vicariously through his work. Then Jesus says let me teach you how to fish. He builds 24-7 lifetime fitnesses everywhere around your neighborhood. Hands you a fishing pole. All the folks who worship other folks and beings are hungry and thirsty as fuck. Their destiny a bench press away from eternity. A spotter away from starring in their own videos. But look -- hey its fun to have idols and mentors, and to appreciate folks who perform well. Its magical and spellbinding. Don't let me get you down. Or rethink your whole life so hard that you join the Qanon movement. That's the red pill. A secrete third option. Where you just watch videos of politicians being satanists, and you still aren't athletic yourself. Your prescription is out. You turn into a kaleidoscope of colors. You turn into one of those snowflakes you made in Montessori school where you fold a piece of paper and just cut random holes. Open the paper and its a perfect crystal. You're an artist. You're just the ice on the hood of your Mercedes that evaporates by 2pm. And everyone is like, man it isn't even cold. Some one was like it was chilly this morning. You can become anything you want to be in fairweather. I worship myself. I am hot. Fuck-- maybe we are not worshipping anything. Maybe there hopes & dreams are on welfare. And athlete twitter videos are the EBT cards I use to stock up on frozen chicken at Sams Club. You're not poor, if youre not hungry. And I am full of shit.