I've asked theists about this.  They say, "No... it's not that God wants one team to win.  It's that we do everything to give glory to god.  When we succeed, we owe it all to god.  When we fail, we thank him for giving us an opportunity to learn humility."

Of course, I'm sure there are those who actually think God loves the Yankees.

How could something with perfect precognition want anything, anyway?

This statement is even more moronic. Try to imagine, if you will, that you are a being which has complete control over absolutely everything in existence. No atom can move without your volition, no action can be commited unless you have guided it. Therefore, it is completely meaningless, once such a being is postulated, to postulate in turn, other agents, yourself included, which can per se commit actions for any purpose other than those forced into being by such a controlling agent! Hence, the phrase "I won" becomes meaningless. You didn't win. The situation was merely one whose outcome was both directed and percieved prior to it's occurance. Hence, the phrase "you lost" becomes equally meaningless. Nor is it possible for you to "learn anything", being that the process of learning, which is ultimately under the control of the formation of neural connections that result from experiental knowledge, is itself under the guidance of that agent which in turn has control over the process of their formation. In fact, you aren't an agent at all. In fact, the being/agent in question already knew all of this was going to occur since his inception, which was never, being that it has always existed, and hence has always, for all time, prior to the creation of the universe, an event in turn requisiting it's volition, has already known the outcome of aforementioned baseball game...and for some very strange reason, the agent in question cares about the aforementioned results and the supposed (but actually impossible) "learning" or "glorification" that may or may not have taken place by these psuedo-agents who constitute an exceptionally small and insignificant portion of what is under it's control.

You can see why I bash my head into the wall repeatedly. What people basically believe is that there is a really powerful person with control over the universe. A person who cares about all of us per se, individually, and our actions, etc. ad infinitum. The personality of the aforementioned agent is that of one of our species, a Homo sapiens. That they refer to this being as if it had a penis is the most obvious testimony to this concept. From a psychological father-figure standpoint, not suprising, but that people continue to cling to it, that is moronic.

No God does not any one team to win.  God wants individuals to do well.  How else do you explain the continued success of controversial first baseman Todd Helton despite the fact that he plays for the Rockies?

Dude, Angels in the Outfield. Rent it. Todd Helton will come down from the Mile High Haven to Anaheim where he will restore the Glory to the Halo.

Out of the states I just recently drove through, California had the highest "Jesus sign density". Granted, it was not a high sign density, but higher than in Oregon or Washington.

God loves all angels, especially the fallen ones. They make the game fun to play.

Opening Day
Genesis.

BY GLENN BIRKEMEIER

- - - -

In the big inning, God created Heaven on Earth. And it was without form, and void. God separated the dirt from the grass. He called the grass Outfield and the dirt He called Infield. God made the Infield a 90-foot square and the Outfield not less than 400 feet to center and 320 feet down the lines. He declared this Fair Territory. All other territory, God then declared, was Foul.

And God divided the players into two teams of nine players each, under direction of a manager, to play The Game on His field. God called some of these players Pitchers and some of them Hitters. He placed a Pitcher precisely 60 feet 6 inches from a Hitter. Then God commanded that it's one, two, three strikes you're out at the ol' Ballgame.

And God granted jurisdiction of The Game to lesser Gods, whom He called Umpires. God said the Umpires are infallible, blessed with Heavenly authority, whose judgment is not to be questioned under penalty of expulsion from The Game. And God looked at his creation and He was pleased. Then God created the Infield Fly Rule to confuse nonbelievers.

And God said, Let there be light beer, and there was. And, God said, let there be peanuts and hot dogs and overpriced souvenirs and let there be frosty chocolate malts with little wooden spoons that you can buy nowhere else except at this Heaven, which God called a Ballpark, and there was. God looked at His creation and it was good.

And the Lord God formed, from the dust, a collection of elite players in His own image. The Lord God then breathed the breath of life into His creation. God called this creation the National League.

And God said, It is not good for the National League to be alone. The Lord God shall make it a mate. And thus, while the National League slept, God took several of its top players and created the American League.

And God blessed The Game, saying, Be fruitful and multiply. Put teams in every city with deserving fans, God added, even if this occurs at the expense of starting-pitching depth.

From time to time, God understood, The Game would be corrupted by the Serpent. The Serpent was more cunning than any other beast and he would take many wicked forms: the Black Sox, segregation, the Designated Hitter, the Reserve Clause, dead balls, juiced balls, spit balls, corked bats, George Steinbrenner, AstroTurf, the 1981 strike, collusion, lockouts, Pete Rose, the 1994 strike, greenies, cocaine, HGH, Andro, steroids, $20 parking, corporate mallparks, Scott Boras, Donald Fehr, and Bud Selig.

But, God said, the goodness in The Game shall always prevail. As needed, the Lord shall bestow upon The Game a Savior. And the Savior, like the Serpent, can take many forms. The Savior shall remind Fans how blessed The Game truly is. The Savior shall be called by many names, including Cy, Matty, Honus, Big Train, the Babe, Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, Lou Gehrig, Branch Rickey, Jackie Robinson, Buck O'Neil, Hank Greenberg, Red Barber, Harry Carey, Vin Scully, Jack Buck, Satchel Paige, Bill Veeck, Roberto Clemente, Ernie Banks, Hammerin' Hank, Cool Papa, Dizzy, Lefty, Whitey, Stan the Man, Big Klu, the Say Hey Kid, Campy, Duke, the Mick, the Splendid Splinter, the Gas House Gang, the Big Red Machine, the Damn Yankees, Pudge Fisk, Pudge Rodriguez, Yaz, Pops, the Wizard of Oz, Fernando, George Brett, Moonlight Graham, Roy Hobbs, Wild Thing Vaughn, Bingo Long, the Ryan Express, Donnie Baseball, Rickey, Eck, the Big Unit, the Cactus League, Cal Ripken, Tony Gwynn, Camden Yards, Rotisserie Drafts, Web Gems, Derek Jeter, Dontrelle Willis, Vlad Guerrero, and, from the Far East, Ichiro. And, God guaranteed, there are many more to come.

God looked upon His creation and He was very pleased. And God spoke, yelling, PLAY BALL!

 .

You know, this reminds me of my highschool days as a cheerleader. I went to a private Christian school, and we belonged to a league of other private Christian schools. We'd all pray before the game for God to enable each player to play to the best of their ability. Yet one team would always prevail other the other - usually us, cuz we had some damn good basketball players. Was it because we glorified God more? Was it because God liked us better? Was it because we were the best cheer squad in the league and we motivated the players? On top of it, our girls' team actually made it downstate my sophomore year, but ended up being defeated by a public school - shouldn't "God's chosen school" have been victorious cuz we had God on our side? It always confused me, standing there on the sidelines. I could never work out a model for divine intervention in regard to sports events.

At any rate, God certainly doesn't love my baseball team - the Cubs.

God hates all baseball teams.

Why do you think he takes away the sight of the umpires?

I don't suppose you still have your cheerleader outfit do you?

Well someone was going to say it...

When you go to Hell for coveting GreekGoddess, Watcher, I just want you to know that - in the event we share the same boat / spaceship / TBM / Magical Schoolbus for Sinners headed destined for the horrible Lake of Fire - I volunteer to be your wingman on the way there.

Haha, unfortunately, I had to hand it over to the school when I graduated. You were gonna ask for pictures, weren't you...

It's not that hard to rent or buy a cheerleader outfit somewhere. Or post nakee pics!

I'm so bad.

Thank you.  That's all I wanted to say.

Nah... you're getting it all wrong.  In all the stories, if you think god is giving you all this great stuff, it's really satan, and you're about to open the ninth gate of hell, or some nonsense like that.  Therefore, the Yankees are actually Satan's favorite team.

I think Benjamin Franklin was onto something when he said "Beer is proof that there is a god and that he loves us."  With that in mind, the only logical choice for God's favorite baseball team would be the Cardinals.  Hello!  Busch Stadium?  Home of the Budweiser megalo-beer-industry?  Not only that, but the Cardinals are second in World Series victories with ten.  Unlike the Yankees, they don't have all the glitz and glamour.  They are just hard working midwestern folk, tilling the earth as god intended.  None of that big city hedonism for the Cardinals.  No, sir.

Just playing God's favorite game the way God intended.

True, but you also have Miller Park in Milwaukee and Coors Field in Denver.  Budweiser and Miller at least produce marginally drinkable products, whereas Coors produces piss water.  That would account for the Rockies' going on an unprecedented tear on October only to be swept by the fucking Red Sox in the series.  I can't think of a better way for God to say "Rot in hell, Adolph Coors, until your company produces a drinkable beverage."  It's a shame that one corporation is forced to atone for the sins of another. 

The Lord works in mysterious ways. 

Cardinals have always been my favorite, too.