It’s 2:09 (of course ou still sucks—that’s always true, regarless of the time), and I’m sitting at the computer looking for an old “The Life of Reilly” article where Jesus Christ signs a one-day contract as a pitcher for the Cincinnati Reds.

Found it. Laughed my butt off again. Thought I’d share it.

What Would Jesus Do? (by Rick Reilly, of Sports Illustrated)

We really didn't believe it was Jesus Christ, not at first.

True, the Cincinnati Reds said they'd just signed Him to a one-day contract, but who would believe that? We just figured Marge Schott had snuck back into the office and was hitting the vodka a little hard.

But then a rusty 1976 Chrysler pulled into a pay lot a few blocks from the stadium, and we saw a man giving off a glow as he walked. He was mobbed, first by tens, then by hundreds, until, of course, he absentmindedly walked right across the Ohio River.

He wore blue jeans, a columbine athletics T-shirt and a wwgd? wristband. "What Would God Do?" asked a woman in the mob.
"Nah," Christ said with a laugh. "What Would Griffey Do? My Dad and I are huge Junior fans."

He was with His "agent," 11-year-old Little Leaguer Yolanda Johnson of Detroit, who said Christ was in pretty good shape for 1,999 years old and had a "wicked" knuckler. Somebody asked Him why he picked now to come back. "I wanted to earlier," He said, "but the Reds had that facial hair thing."

The front office said Christ didn't want much to sign, just the league minimum, which he took all at once, in cash, and handed to Hildy Kranmitz, a bag lady outside the stadium. "Oh, and a bunch of balls, bats and gloves for the kid," a Reds source said. "Didn't even want 'em signed."

"Why baseball?" we asked Christ.

"I keep hearing people say sports is the new religion," He said. "Thought I better check out the competition."

With that, He went into the Cincinnati clubhouse to meet His new teammates, many of whom wept uncontrollably. Teammates raced madly ahead of Him, throwing away porn magazines and entire cases of chewing tobacco, and scrambling to get unopened fan mail out of trash bins.

After that, Christ took his seat in the Reds' bullpen, wearing 32 for Sandy Koufax. He chewed sunflower seeds, told updated Casey Stengel stories and recounted some of the lost 25 years of his life. "I kicked around minor league slingshot for a few years," He said, "but I was no David." At one point, just for levity, Christ picked up the bullpen phone and said, "Anybody feel like Chinese?"

In the ninth, with Cincinnati holding a 5-2 lead over the Cleveland Indians, Reds manager Jack McKeon turned to Christ, who arrived at the mound to a deafening roar, as the organist played a jittery Jesus Is Just Alright. The righthander was wild at first, his third pitch plunking Indians star Roberto Alomar in the ribs. Christ sprinted to the plate to check on him, initially alarming Alomar, who admitted afterward that he thought it was the beginning of a fight.

The Messiah gave up a long home run to the next batter, Manny Ramirez, and, curiously, was waiting at first base to shake his hand. "I had to," Christ said. "Manny nearly hit that thing to Galilee."

After that, He settled down, getting two ground ball outs before striking out Jim Thome to end the inning. Actually, He struck out Thome on the pitch before but overruled home plate umpire Eric Gregg, saying the called strike was "a good inch" off the white. "It's not Eric's fault," Christ said. "He doesn't know it, but his right eye is down to 20-100."

After the game there was an enormous press conference, carried by every major network in the world and broadcast to more than two billion people. Somebody asked Him why He simply didn't strike out every batter He faced. "Rust, mostly," He said.

Did He have any advice for today's ballplayer? "Well, yeah," Christ said. "If there's anything I hate, it's seeing guys with solid-gold, diamond-studded crucifixes around their necks. Do you have any idea how much vaccine that money would buy? And don't make the sign of the cross at the plate with your right hand and then charge the mound and throw punches with your left. I mean, make up your mind. And please stop praying for wins. Put yourself in my position. If your kids were playing each other, who would you root for?"

He answered a few more, until young Ms. Johnson said they had to get to Los Angeles to have a looong talk with NRA president Charlton Heston. "Let me just say one last thing," He said. "I know you people are nuts about athletes, but try not to go overboard. Why worship the gift when you can worship the Giver?"

With that, there was a blinding light and both of them were gone.

The line on Christ: one inning, two runs, both earned, and one save.