An Open Letter to My Brother

Hey there big bro,

Are we going to make this the third year running for the hair-based wager on the outcome of the BYU-Utah football game?  As I understand it, you have been growing your hair out this year, at the behest of your lovely wife (and to her delight and the delight of our parents--at least that's the rumor I've heard), so you might not want to put those lovely locks on the line. To be honest, my wife asked that I let my hair grow out a little, too, but that was specifically for the Marine Ball, which was last weekend.  So I'm good.

Nevermind the fact that the outcome of this year's Big Game is 99% already determined.  Nevermind that my Cougs are stinking up the field in ways that should never be shown in front of small children, pregnant women, or those with a history of heart disease.  Forget the fact that your Utes have been a fine-tuned football machine (I'm conveniently leaving out the TCU and Notre Dame games for the sake of hyperbole).  Don't pay any attention to the fact that the game is at Utah this year.  Anything can happen with this game, so I'll understand if you back out of the wager this year for fear of having to face your wife with a fantasticly gorgeous Y shaved into your hair.  And Mali wouldn't cry too much about it if we didn't have the bet this year. My kids might, though...

Your younger (and taller) brother,
Brent