HI! My friends! I love all of you. Blessed be each and every one of you that makes love to all that is the Revolution... and studies it, in a masculine way, but without remorse. WHO? you! Because you love them. But you will find defeat in Giants Stadium. Lo! Behold unto you a loss waiting! Lurking! SEETHING with Piusness! To rape and pillage all that is You. Not that we will actually rape or pillage the actual people, but i am speaking figuratively, for i am witty like that. But beyond all this, a crushing there sits, and waits. And looks at you with the eyes of a child, but with the phallus of a MEJIDO! And unfolds it! And unravels it! And beats it soundly to awake it! And scares you it does! For you have never seen such an organ, nor will you ever see again... for when the Instrument of your pillaging comes before you, you will shudder... your knees will wobble thus, and you will feel the cold release of death. And and loss will ensue... but this is what you expected, so fear not... because you loved your team, and you came so close... you traveled all the way from your village to see and to witness, but you couldn't, because something blocked your view... A shadow falling upon your eyes... blinding it is, to it your eyes a small ant on which to laden its fool-hearty ways of pain and violence... and it was crushed, and your vision impaired, and your people slaughtered, and your Franchino a worthless sack of crap, but you came anyways.. to cheer and to salute and to become a voyeur to what you knew was their destruction. But you came. Because you love. Love, a powerful emotion that saps up energy much like this long-ass paragraph is doing to its present reader, but Love, yes Love, an emotion with such higher significance as which to make a pawn of any heart, any soul, any that wish to defeat or lose or squander its Intent. You would dare squeeze its Intent? Dare you not, good sir. Dare you NOT. For Love, whether for that of a team, or that of a small boy for what lays beneath his father's jeans, makes it impurvious for the crack addict and the victim of the crack addict's addiction to Love. Yes, love is all that matters. To me, to you, to yo' momma... to the millions of people watching at home... to every last one of the world's children who will make a request to see the Revolution lose to the MetroStars by a score of at LEAST 11 or 12 to 0. ...at LEAST. Whitney, you're giving me a hug this time dammit.