- May 26, 2003
- 25,380
- 21,564
- AFL Club
- Fremantle
- Other Teams
- SFFC, Aussie Women's Cricket, HNK
The day arrived. The true believers filing into the arena were filled with anticipation. When would it happen and how would they react? Electricity crackled through the air. He was back, and He would soon send them into a frenzy of flag-waving, screaming, purple ecstasy.
Despite the clouds and drizzle the crowd steadily built. The horde chattered excitedly among themselves, and the knowing nod and wink was passed between many a stranger. The questions were on everyone's lips - When would He do The Thing? Would He be the first for the afternoon? How soon before the wizardry would be displayed for the 40,000 fanatics?
Soon enough the Warriors for the Purple entered the arena. Every neck strained, every head turned, every eye longed for a glimpse. A cheer rose through the crowd, and the excitement level lifted noticeably.
Unassuming among His fellow warriors, He ran, jumped, sprinted, kicked and marked in preparation for His first battle in 9 months. There were some nerves, for despite belief to the contrary, He was after all, only human. Sufficiently warmed for the upcoming battle, the warriors retreated for their final moments of preparation before they would lay it all on the line.
The song blared, the expectation was palpable, the voices lifted as one as the warriors returned crashing through the banner onto the field of battle. All eyes turned to the small man wearing the number 33 emblazoned on his back. He was the one. The one Purple Jesus. The one they had missed terribly. The one they loved dearly, despite His flaws and His oh-so human frailties.
The siren blasted to signal the beginning. The rain continued to fall but it did not dampen the enthusiasm of the True Believers. They knew that it was only a matter of time before their extreme patience would be rewarded, before He would weave his magic and all would be right and good once again.
The ball headed towards the forward line, and as it did so, the rain slowed to a drizzle. The great Adonis and leader of the warriors leapt skyward, but was foiled at the last moment in his bid to latch onto the ball. The small man waited at his feet, muscles twitching like a lynx ready to pounce on an unsuspecting rabbit; watching, watching, waiting, waiting, knowing that the spoils would be his if he wanted it badly enough.
The ball hit the ground, and as it did He let the springs in His legs go, and the ball was in his vice like hands. This way, that way He twisted. The rain stopped, and in the smallest of spaces he dropped the ball and connected with His foot. The briefest moment of silence ensued, and a hush of anticipation as the ball sailed up, up, up and between the two big sticks before him.
The eruption of noise was heard far and wide, and passersby tell the story how they knew the exact moment He returned to reclaim His rightful place among the Purple Warriors. The deafening roar was accompanied by a parting of the clouds, and a single ray of sunshine that burst through and shone upon Him, as he spread wide His arms and looked to the heavens.
The Purple Jesus was back, and the True Believers loved Him like never before.
Despite the clouds and drizzle the crowd steadily built. The horde chattered excitedly among themselves, and the knowing nod and wink was passed between many a stranger. The questions were on everyone's lips - When would He do The Thing? Would He be the first for the afternoon? How soon before the wizardry would be displayed for the 40,000 fanatics?
Soon enough the Warriors for the Purple entered the arena. Every neck strained, every head turned, every eye longed for a glimpse. A cheer rose through the crowd, and the excitement level lifted noticeably.
Unassuming among His fellow warriors, He ran, jumped, sprinted, kicked and marked in preparation for His first battle in 9 months. There were some nerves, for despite belief to the contrary, He was after all, only human. Sufficiently warmed for the upcoming battle, the warriors retreated for their final moments of preparation before they would lay it all on the line.
The song blared, the expectation was palpable, the voices lifted as one as the warriors returned crashing through the banner onto the field of battle. All eyes turned to the small man wearing the number 33 emblazoned on his back. He was the one. The one Purple Jesus. The one they had missed terribly. The one they loved dearly, despite His flaws and His oh-so human frailties.
The siren blasted to signal the beginning. The rain continued to fall but it did not dampen the enthusiasm of the True Believers. They knew that it was only a matter of time before their extreme patience would be rewarded, before He would weave his magic and all would be right and good once again.
The ball headed towards the forward line, and as it did so, the rain slowed to a drizzle. The great Adonis and leader of the warriors leapt skyward, but was foiled at the last moment in his bid to latch onto the ball. The small man waited at his feet, muscles twitching like a lynx ready to pounce on an unsuspecting rabbit; watching, watching, waiting, waiting, knowing that the spoils would be his if he wanted it badly enough.
The ball hit the ground, and as it did He let the springs in His legs go, and the ball was in his vice like hands. This way, that way He twisted. The rain stopped, and in the smallest of spaces he dropped the ball and connected with His foot. The briefest moment of silence ensued, and a hush of anticipation as the ball sailed up, up, up and between the two big sticks before him.
The eruption of noise was heard far and wide, and passersby tell the story how they knew the exact moment He returned to reclaim His rightful place among the Purple Warriors. The deafening roar was accompanied by a parting of the clouds, and a single ray of sunshine that burst through and shone upon Him, as he spread wide His arms and looked to the heavens.
The Purple Jesus was back, and the True Believers loved Him like never before.
