I have seen the light and have been born again. Though it’s not some judgemental deity that I worship but a group of young men. Not mere mortals, these are extraordinary specimens – capable of the most mind-boggling feats. My son and I have gathered together a number of times with the rest of our flock to cheer and praise our marvellous men. But this time is special. We have headed south to Melbourne – like a pilgrimage to Mecca – praying that our marvellous men can overcome a tremendous challenge. The logic of our minds reasons that their success is unlikely. But the faith in our hearts holds out for a miracle. You never know. As we enter the monumental temple, the adrenaline starts pumping. We are only two amongst tens of thousands. The opening hymn is sung. Then – the challenge begins. Our marvellous men battle bravely but look like they will fall short. Then, they surge. My son and I begin to entertain the possibility of triumph. But the task is great. Tension builds. It is excruciating. My son can’t take it. He starts to cry. He wants to leave. It’s too much. No. We can’t go now. Here – have some chocolate. This seems to help. Then, at last, the final siren sounds. They did it! We jump up and down. We scream like idiots. We hug. And we sing the final hymn – our hymn: “…while our loyal sons go marching onwards to victory.” Our faith has been rewarded. Our men truly are marvellous. And so are we.