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It seems Pope Francis needs to brush up on his Tertullian!

It has been reported (in The ChristLast Media, I must note) that the current Pope does not like the phrase "lead us not into temptation...

"Let no freedom be allowed to novelty, because it is not fitting that any addition should be made to antiquity. Let not the clear faith and belief of our forefathers be fouled by any muddy admixture." -- Pope Sixtus III

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

From The History of Sport Department:

I am not saying football was better then, but there are never stories like this anymore.

Matte's wristband still binds, 40 years later
Reading plays taped to his wrist, a halfback forced to play quarterback rallied the Colts and captured the fancy of football fans


Visitors to the Pro Football Hall of Fame are apt to walk right past it to gawk at the more inviting lore displayed nearby.

Hey, Dad, check out the size 19 Hall of Fame ring worn by Bronko Nagurski! And look at this square-toed kicking shoe that belonged to some dude named Agajanian -- it says here he had one toe on his right foot!

Though a less obtrusive keepsake, the brown wristband represents a seminal moment in the rich history of the Baltimore Colts. Forty years ago, their offense gutted by injuries, the Colts hobbled out of the regular season behind a makeshift "instant" quarterback who strapped a crib sheet to his forearm to remember the plays.

On Dec. 26, 1965, the Colts and Green Bay Packers met in a playoff for the NFL Western Conference championship. The Packers boasted four future Hall of Famers, plus legendary coach Vince Lombardi.

The Colts pinned their hopes -- and that wristband -- on Tom Matte, 26, a reserve halfback who had been bumped up to quarterback after late-season injuries to John Unitas (knee) and backup Gary Cuozzo (shoulder).

"I had to learn so much offense that I didn't have time to be nervous," Matte said last week. "I remember that we walked through the plays in the ballroom of our hotel in Green Bay."

Undersized and overmatched, the 6-foot Matte cowed no one. He hadn't taken a snap since college as an option quarterback at Ohio State. His running style earned him the nickname "Garbage Can." His hands were barely large enough to throw a spiral. And he barked signals like a yippy chihuahua.

This was the man the underdog Colts followed onto muddy Lambeau Field the day after Christmas.

They darn near won the game.
(Thanks to one of the world's most execrable papers, The Baltimore Sun, for the heads up. This proves anyone can have a blind squirrel with a broken watch moment. Another example: They say Hitler loved dogs.)

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First of all, the word is SEX, not GENDER. If you are ever tempted to use the word GENDER, don't. The word is SEX! SEX! SEX! SEX! For example: "My sex is male." is correct. "My gender is male." means nothing. Look it up. What kind of sick neo-Puritan nonsense is this? Idiot left-fascists, get your blood-soaked paws off the English language. Hence I am choosing "male" under protest.

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