Rookie Symposium – Percy Harvin Prepares for Football Season

During the 2009 season, Purple Jesus Diaries thought it would be interesting to go inside the minds of the rookies on the squad to get their unique take (JUST LIKE VIKING CHEERLEADER KELLY’S WOULD BE) on what the welcome party to the NFL is like. Sometimes rookies find it difficult to adjust to the game, while sometimes others find it surprisingly easy. In the Rookie Symposium, we’ll encourage the rookies to cover a variety of issues, including their impression of teammates, their change in work and living ethics, and their personal insight and reaction to team activities. Today, we start with rookie phenom Percy Harvin as he reacts to the Vikings’ recent mini camps …
Prepare thee well, NFL ... Percy Harvin cometh.
Prepare thee well, NFL ... Percy Harvin cometh.

“Prepare yourself, Percy Harvin, for football season is upon us.

“The unwelcomed spear of light stabbed through my curtains this morning, starting at my neck and erasing my head from my body. Too early. Too soon. I slowly allowed my consciousness to flow into my brain and started taking stock of my aching body. Mini camps aren’t as soft as people think. They take a toll on an individual’s mind, body, and soul. But it is my destiny to be among the NFL’s elite, and in order to do so, I must rise from my cocoon of comfort, my castle of solitude, and prepare for another day of …

“VIKINGS MINI CAMP!!!”

“I had just enjoyed a bagel in my car while driving to Winter Park. I try to stay away from combining my breakfast with a caffeinated drink in the morning, as it poisons the body. Instead, I make a special concoction of moose urine and virgin koala blood. It fortifies the mind and body. I finished my drink, parked and headed to the locker room where I encountered my first rookie hazing of the afternoon. Inside my locker I found my Vikings helmet that is required to wear with an uncouth set of testicles drawn underneath the Vikings horn on each side. They were the proud owners of more hair than Chewbacca. Veteran player, Patrick Williams, was standing off to the side of the locker room seeming to revel in the amateurish locker prank. At that point, I knew his famous roles played in rookie hazing and found this one to be pedestrian at best. He would have to try harder to truly force my reactionary hand. Putting the event behind me as best I could, I retrieved my testicle adorned helmet and moved on to the practice fields.

Exquisite.
Exquisite.

“My routes were exceptionally crisp that day. Lofty, even. I really found a comfort zone that allowed me to push the distractions to the side and focus on softly catching the ball with my hands. There was a moment when Tarvaris Jackson was heaving a long ball my way down the sidelines when I galloped past a defender and felt the hardened pigskin grip my fingers without breaking stride. It is at moments like this that I feel closest to God. At least, until Patrick Williams once again stepped out of nowhere and leveled me with a hard shoulder, snapping me out of my reprieve. Lying crumpled on the ground, yet still holding the ball, I slowly fixed my eyes upon his round shape, watching as he carelessly laughed at my misfortunes. Men like him frequently feel safe due to their size, infallible even. Yet most men like him have not yet met men like me …

“The practice was hard and long. My body was aching and my head was spinning. I had digested more plays this weekend than I had ever even seen while at Florida. Showering in the locker room, I heard a ruckus enter and I knew immediately it was Patrick Williams, most likely preparing another trick to finish his day. Yet the final joke would be on him.

I see you, fat man ...
I see you, fat man ...

“I stayed in the shower, allowing a slow smile to creep over my face as I heard him waddle towards his locker. I heard a click as he opened it, and his noisy, obnoxious voice froze to a chill. The horror was unimaginable. A dull thud echoed in the now silent locker room as the decapitated head of a wild moose, furry and bloody, dropped from a meat hook in his locker and rolled to a stop over the big man’s feet. The decaying odor was as foul as a swamp rat’s aged innards, and the matted fur would still be found on his clothing days later.

“As his retching began, I finished my shower, reveling in the aural mixture of Patrick Williams’ misery and the soft pattering of water droplets against my skin. It was the perfect ending to a trying day in the NFL, but when all was said and done, I found comfort for my mind by causing havoc with another’s.

“Prepare yourself NFL, for football season is upon us.”

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