Dearly beloved

We are gathered here, in the sight of William Perry and Walter Payton, to plead for Rex Grossman's mental state.

Dear Lord, this sunday in Miami, let Rex be the player that downed seven teams with a passer rating of over a 100 in the regular season, not the panicky little kid who rated sub 50 in five more interception strewn failure fests, culminating in being pulled with a rating of ZERO vs the mighty Green Bay (Please note, my allegience will always lie with Green Bay, but the Bears are my boys as long as Joy lives in our house).

Dear Lord, let Rex see with the vision that picked off three plays for a final drive of 69 yards in 4Q of the Saints games, not the one who spilled four versus the cheeseheads.

Dear Lord, let him, you know, just not be rubbish. Please?

In the name of the father (Lovie Smith) , the Son (Brian Urlacher) and the Holy Spirit (those umpires in their funky new duds. Nice . . . )