There he goes! His cleats are newly signed by Jason Kelce. His cream jersey is so fresh, the first wear of the year. His hat is so blue. And he is sprinting, his eyes turned toward the heavens, abiding by the guidance of God (the ball).
His feet fall on a ground of palms (carefully mowed grass), and then upon the hard dirt. He is reaching further and further for glory, though he knows it will be dangerous—his end, even.
At the last minute, he hesitates, eyes his future uncertainly. Perhaps, in this moment, he begged of God (the ball), "If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as You will." Or perhaps he thought nothing at all as his thighs collided with the short barrier between him and the camera well.
There he goes!
Oh no!!!
AHHHHH!
He is gone!!! His torture complete. Led by God (the ball) to his end (big fall into camera well). Feet over head. A cartwheel into the abyss!
What will we do? Everyone is so worried. A gasp rises from some 44 thousand people, and then a bad, terrified silence. One. Two. Three.
Oh, whew.
Never mind! He's fine!
He is risen!
This is his body broken for us (cut finger). We are blessed, kind of. Unfortunately there is no salvation to be had. He did not catch the ball. God remains elusive, always out of reach.
Now Bryce Harper has ascended to heaven (scheduled day off unrelated to finger cut) and we await his return.
