For you, O Yahweh, have power over wins and losses;
you lead teams to the playoff gates and then push them back.
A team, in its wickedness, might give lip service to your name,
but mere words cannot bring back the points they lost.
To escape from your hand is impossible.
Look at those ungodly Stars,
those who thought they were good of their own accord,
and refused to acknowledge your gracious hand working the percentages.
They have now been flogged by your right arm,
their players injured at every turn,
and their team put down by even the most pathetic of enemies.