I know, it’s been a while and I’m really sorry about that. It’s just that, I’ve been sinning like nobody’s business and I figured it wasn’t a good idea to mix your business with my pleasure. I’m not asking for forgiveness, so chill. You deal with a gazillion ‘do over’ requests a day, and that’s just from the Clintons. I’m in awe of your ability to clean a human being’s hard drive of myriad improprieties while still having the time to make the sun rise and fall on cue. It’s why you’ve got the best selling Book, like, ever.
What I’m asking for is kind of a big deal. To me. And no . . this has nothing to do with that prayer I sent you about Mr Vera Farmiga meeting his untimely end inside the gaping jaws of a great white shark while I attempt to save his life (from a pier) . . . after which, his mourning wife Vera falls in deep and crazy love with me . . and after which we live in God-sanctioned sin for the rest of our lives. I realize this particular prayer was inappropriate, since . . yanno, you never answered it.
Sooo, here’s my prayer. Make Tim Tebow’s last chance at an NFL gig last longer than five minutes. Before you start laughing, hear me out.
Professional sports gives us ‘upsets’, not miracles. That would all change if Tebow scored a spot on the Eagles roster this fall, seeing as how his NFL resume reads like something out of Ripley’s. I realize he hasn’t played football in almost two years, but the Cleveland Browns haven’t played football for a lot longer than that and they still get to lace ’em up on Sundays.
God, I know I should be praying for that world peace thing, or rain in California, or a return to the original Uma Thurman face. But those things ain’t gonna happen unless He walks the earth again, and I really don’t see Ronald Reagan coming back anytime soon.
It would be a mighty cool thing, watching Tebow on the sidelines again. If he happened to make a couple starts, even better. If his mechanics have improved enough to score a start or several and turn summer into fall? That’s best case scenario, and I’m getting ahead of myself. The last time I got ahead of myself, it took me eleven years and divorce papers to catch up. Sorry about that . . .
Admittedly, there is a part of me that would love to see all these so called experts– and Mark Sanchez- eat their words. The peeps who accuse Tebow of being nothing more than a circus act are the same ones who pitch the tent and fire up the spotlight in the first place.
Here then, a top five list of reasons why Tebow deserves another shot:
1- He came out of the University of Florida with two national titles, one Heisman and zero arrests. That last statistic is most impressive when you consider those Urban Meyer clubs singlehandedly raised the crime rate in Tallahassee.
2- His magical playoff run with the Broncos. Okay, it was one game . . but what a game it was. It might not have qualified as miraculous, but it was magical. Professional football hasn’t experienced a magical moment like that since the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders introduced themselves. Which only goes to show, when you and Hugh Hefner collaborate on something, genius shit happens.
3- Tebow’s a virgin. He’s twenty seven and he’s a virgin. This confirms the fact that I am a whore, and I don’t care, because Tebow is the much needed anomaly to a league whose extracurricular activities are illegal and worse.
4- I’ve had it with QBR and all the other statistical evaluations that come with it. Worshipping numbers is mark of the beast stuff. Just look at Tom Brady. Too soon?
5- He’s not Aaron Hernandez. This ass clown shouldn’t count. Not any longer and not ever again.
Tebow, should count. In a league where deflated footballs require more investigation than battered women. In a league where bad guys get bucco chances and TV gigs after that.
On a human level, it’s even more obvious. Tebow should count for the one in a million shot we never stop believing in. He should count for all the right things in a world gone crazy with all the wrong ones. He should count for anyone who ever doubted their ability to make the day work in spite of the long and unforgiving odds. And hell (sorry), if Tebow can make the cut, doesn’t it tell us everything about ourselves in the doing?
If you can’t answer my prayer, I’ll understand. So long as you see it in your infinite power to introduce Tebow to my daughter some day, we can call it even.