Wanted: Jesus

We need a Jesus.

Well, I do not mean that on the literal side. But reflecting this past Lenten Season, I came to that conclusion. And no, it’s not the country I am talking about. Rather, I am pointing to the side that is so neglected, as much as education matter of fact.

The government arm for sports needs a Jesus.

Manny Pacqiuao is not the answer, nor the messiah the Philippine Sports Commission badly needs. Pacman is just the pope in my eyes. Jesus saved mankind with his love. I am going on a religious tear here, but thing is, I want someone to save sportskind with his love. Well that’s a stretch right?

Sure, there is Manny Pangilinan with his monetary showers.

Sure, there is Mikee Romero, no matter how young he is, dabbling his hand in every sport that he can support.

But they are mere disciples.

We lack that one person who is in love with sports. And I mean madly and deeply in love with not just a particular sport like basketball or shooting or swimming, but every sport the Philippine Sports Commission encompasses.

He must be that king who will not demand to be served, but rather, serve. He will arrive with little to no fanfare heralding his cause. He will turn every apathetic being, including the relatives of Lolong at the congress and the senate. But it will be bloody.

He will be called a blasphemer by the pharisees residing inside the Commission, those who believe that only them and them alone shall hold and rule this arm. That what they preach is gospel. That their iron rule could not be destroyed by an upstart.

What’s worse, they would persecute him for his ideals, his goals for Philippine Sports. They would want him flaggelated for going against them. The Caiaphas or Caiphas, whichever name the dudes at the temple call him, would call for his crucifixion. Would embrace a Barabas known for being a criminal, for working under the tables than a Christ who wants transparency and a foot forward towards our Olympic Gold medal amongst others.

Although every sport has seemed to have found their own Jesuses, the omnipresent and omnipotent ruler of all the sports committees still is under search.

The speculation of the persecution to come for that Messiah sure is daunting. But he, or she, would persevere. He, or she, would endure.

The whippings are matters of no consequence.

The cries for blood will be heard but not taken to own his heart.

The exchange for a criminal, a trifling matter.

The death upon the cross, salvation.

We need that love. We need that person.

I want a Jesus for sports.

We want a Jesus for sports.

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