Rant: This Is What It Feels Like To Get Tebowed
For the past month and a half, Iíve sat back and laughed at the misfortunes of other football teams. Iíve smiled as Tim Tebow has pulled off obnoxious victories, and Iíve even texted ďTebow TimeĒ to various friends after their favored squads have been overpowered by the Broncosí stupid option attack. They teased me relentlessly, prior to Cutlerís arrival, about the Bearsí offensive awfulness for years; so, I figured rubbing salt in the wound was more than deserved.
I was wrong, so thoroughly, vociferously and aggressively wrong, but thereís no way I could have known that until today.
This afternoon, the Bears inexplicably blew a ten point lead with under three minutes to go. They curiously ran out of bounds instead of stopping the clock. They curiously left men wide open for long passes right next to the sidelines. They fumbled at the wrong moment, started trying to rundown the clock at the wrong moment and did absolutely everything wrong at the worst possible moments. The Broncos, to their credit, scored a touchdown, made a fifty-eight yard field goal (what the fuck?) and a fifty-one yard field goal en route to an overtime victory. But I canít think about any of that right now. All I can do is try and explain the misery that happens during and immediately after a Tebowing. Those that donít know already, need to know now.
It starts with a completely rational and smug confidence, brought on by decades of watching football. Teams just donít win down ten without any timeouts, especially when they havenít had a successful drive all day. Then it turns into a tinge of irrational nervousness. Theyíre really getting down the field quick, you think. Please God, take some more time off the clock. After the touchdown, a queasy feeling takes root somewhere in your stomach. Youíre still up three, but youíve seen this asshole Tebow do this all before. The chances of recovering an onside kick are remote, but youíll feel a lot better when itís safely in your team's grasp. Then the onside kick comes. Itís a beauty. Itís just hanging in the air for someone to grab. And itís your team. Theyíve recovered the ball. Now all they need to do is wind down the clock and punt with a few seconds left. Even Tebow canít drive the field in a few seconds.
And then your running back get pushed out of bounds. Normally a reasonably intelligent player, heís lost all goddamn sense. Now you know Tebow is getting the ball back, and youíre nervous. He makes a few passes, moves the chains and gets his kicker set up for a fifty-eight fucking yard field goal. It should be a shot in the dark, but between the kooky Denver air and this Tebow shit, you know itís going in. Of course it does. And at that point, you know the game is over. It doesnít matter that you win the coin toss. It doesnít matter that your time gets into field goal position. You know the fumble is coming, and when it does, itís almost a relief because the game is that much closer to being over. And as the Broncos nail the fifty-one yard field goal and Tebow points to the sky, it all sinks in and youíre numb. You canít even shout or throw the changer. Your team is no different from anyone elseís, just another bleeding pile of helmeted flush on this son of a bitchís KO tour.
Being Tebowed sucks. Iíve been broken up with. Iíve fought with friends, disappointed my parents and had beloved family dogs put down. Nothing is this agonizing, probably because Iíve seen it all before and laughed as it happened to others. Next week Iíll just shake my head and feel empathy for the poor sons of bitches suddenly in the same boat as me. I don't wish this despondency on anyone, but I know it's coming.