The season 2004 has seen the return of the journey man, the American Jule. Four year resident of Adelaide Uni, he has returned to finish his residency in the B’s midfield.
Combination of irresistible charm and a little natural talent earned him many accolades in his first two years in the Stadium de Glamour. But it was the disappearing act of 2003 that really had me scratching my head. It was the winter of 2003 when the knife was really twisted.
Anzac Day Weekend 2003, cold wet windy. Saturday was round one of the cup, I’m not saying that Julian cost the B’s the Cup, but, well yeah, I am saying that. A ragtag bunch they were, barely making 11 on the pitch, including the Horse marshalling from central midfield. And then there was Wes’ famous dummy spit. But it didn’t have to be that way, because off in the distance, wandered a young forgotten American.
The brilliant combative tearaway winger answered the call simply. I’m here to drink! It was like the first US invasion of Iraq: quick, painless. In fact I’m over it, I’d forgot it even happened. So the young yank, stood on the sidelines, got smashed and laughed. While the B’s cup dream was destroyed, not by a private school, but by an apathetical American. Too heartless to care!
I guess you can understand a lot about the Jules, when you know about his tragic childhood. Those long summer days living under the pier on Pismo Beach California. Spending his days avoiding the draft, smoking the produce and generally looking for his way out. Three years ago he was granted refugee status by the Australian government and with this he had gained freedom from the oppression of his youth. Like many a legend the story from here is a bit grey, but the journey from the Beach to the Stadium de White was complete. And the legend of the Jule had begun.