Somebody needs to open up the access panel on Tim Tebow's back and make sure one of his control switches didn't get set to repeat. I tried to watch the press conference introducing him as the Jets latest sideshow, but the repeated answers just became too monotonous. Every response was canned and coached and, to his credit, delivered masterfully with a million dollar smile. He has been perfectly programmed by his handlers to output the optimum response every time.
But can't we see the real Tim Tebow at some point? Will we ever see some actual emotion? He must have a warehouse full of pencils he's chewed into diamonds in order to keep that black lab attitude toward everything in life. He's the Ned Flanders of football. Everything is awesome. Everything is great. It's sickening.
Those of us who are imperfect and actually experience human emotion can only hope that somewhere Tebow has a secret room where he keeps the puppies he kicks when he's angry (not really, nobody condones kicking puppies) and that it's right next to the room where he keeps his drugs and strippers.
He does have a bit of an ego, though. In the press conference he stated that he had no intention of going anywhere to be the backup. That can only mean he went to New York with the intention of taking the starting job away from Mark Sanchez.
And that would make him the king of New York. He would have an even bigger platform to spread his message. Perhaps the biggest platform possible, and that might be even more important to him than anything else. Joel Osteen already has masses following him and hanging on his every word. Can you imagine if Osteen was the starting quarterback for the New York Jets?
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Night of a Thousand Sharpies
Believe it or not, I was once the bodyguard for an NFL linebacker. This slight fellow with biceps the size of the football player's wrists once served as a human shield between DeMeco Ryans and hordes of relentless and ravenous Sharpie-wielding fans clamoring for an autograph like zombies on the hunt for delicious brains. The ominous drone of "Auuuttoooggrrrapphs..." filled the air in horrifying unison as I was the only barrier between the crazed mass and this million dollar, finely-tuned athlete who could crush me if he so chose.
Week after week, the vacuous and ink-thirsty horde came in waves with arms outstretched in starved desperation to obtain the mark of this man I was bound to protect. They moved in on the small corner of the building that served as our safe haven, bringing forth a shadow that made the dark room even darker. The red tips of their Sharpies stood out like the eyes of a thousand devils.
When it seemed like I could no longer hold them back, something would always cause the horde to subside and allow me to wipe away the wet ink that had begun to stream down my face like blood running from a gushing wound. The only thing that could calm this horrid horde was something even more powerful than the lust for an autograph. It was the intoxicating odor of burning flesh coming from the hot and hellish room in the back. It was the lust for...hamburgers.
Yep, hamburgers. See, I wasn't really a "bodyguard" for an NFL linebacker. I worked in promotions for 790 The Sports Animal in Houston and always did the weekly DeMeco Ryan's radio show that took place at a local sports bar famous for its hamburgers. It was my job to keep people in a single-file line and make sure that the rules for getting an autograph were followed. While I may not have actually been protecting anyone, I did play a pretty important role. I mean, if not for me, the line could have become double-file, or even triple-file, and I don't even want to imagine what kind of chaos that could have created.
Because of that radio show, DeMeco Ryans is pretty much the only NFL player I've been within 1000 feet of and I spent an hour with him every week for about seven weeks. He is an awesome guy and could not have been more appreciative of the fans that came out to see him.
And that's why I don't like him being traded from the Texans. I'm not making any judgement on the merits of the trade from the perspective of a running a football franchise. That's not what I do and that's not my role. I'm a fan. And I simply want DeMeco on my team because I want to cheer for him.
Week after week, the vacuous and ink-thirsty horde came in waves with arms outstretched in starved desperation to obtain the mark of this man I was bound to protect. They moved in on the small corner of the building that served as our safe haven, bringing forth a shadow that made the dark room even darker. The red tips of their Sharpies stood out like the eyes of a thousand devils.
When it seemed like I could no longer hold them back, something would always cause the horde to subside and allow me to wipe away the wet ink that had begun to stream down my face like blood running from a gushing wound. The only thing that could calm this horrid horde was something even more powerful than the lust for an autograph. It was the intoxicating odor of burning flesh coming from the hot and hellish room in the back. It was the lust for...hamburgers.
Yep, hamburgers. See, I wasn't really a "bodyguard" for an NFL linebacker. I worked in promotions for 790 The Sports Animal in Houston and always did the weekly DeMeco Ryan's radio show that took place at a local sports bar famous for its hamburgers. It was my job to keep people in a single-file line and make sure that the rules for getting an autograph were followed. While I may not have actually been protecting anyone, I did play a pretty important role. I mean, if not for me, the line could have become double-file, or even triple-file, and I don't even want to imagine what kind of chaos that could have created.
Because of that radio show, DeMeco Ryans is pretty much the only NFL player I've been within 1000 feet of and I spent an hour with him every week for about seven weeks. He is an awesome guy and could not have been more appreciative of the fans that came out to see him.
And that's why I don't like him being traded from the Texans. I'm not making any judgement on the merits of the trade from the perspective of a running a football franchise. That's not what I do and that's not my role. I'm a fan. And I simply want DeMeco on my team because I want to cheer for him.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
A Career in Hinesight
The blind side assassin has called it quits. Hines Ward, the roughest, toughest, meanest wide receiver in recent history, is hanging up his cleats and walking away from the game.
The NFL is losing one of its most charismatic characters and a player who embodied what it means to be a football player. Not just one of those wide receivers who simply caught passes and tried his hardest not to get hit, but a guy who sought out contact and loved to lay out defenders, especially if they happened to be looking the other direction.
You will be missed, Hines Ward. For that big smile and the relentless attitude that set you apart from the diva receivers that have taken over the game. Hopefully, we'll see you on a television set somewhere reminding us of a game that was once about toughness and grit, but has now, for better or worse, become a sport of flash and finesse.
Now you can ride off into the sunset with your Super Bowl rings shining and your big grin flashing. You were one of a kind when you played and we will likely not see another like you. The game was changing, but you refused to. And that will always be respected.
The NFL is losing one of its most charismatic characters and a player who embodied what it means to be a football player. Not just one of those wide receivers who simply caught passes and tried his hardest not to get hit, but a guy who sought out contact and loved to lay out defenders, especially if they happened to be looking the other direction.
You will be missed, Hines Ward. For that big smile and the relentless attitude that set you apart from the diva receivers that have taken over the game. Hopefully, we'll see you on a television set somewhere reminding us of a game that was once about toughness and grit, but has now, for better or worse, become a sport of flash and finesse.
Now you can ride off into the sunset with your Super Bowl rings shining and your big grin flashing. You were one of a kind when you played and we will likely not see another like you. The game was changing, but you refused to. And that will always be respected.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Te-bowing Out
Is the Tebow "era" over in Denver? Has the great experiment in mediocrity and unrealistic expectations come to an end? Will the false praise bestowed upon an undeserving figure fall silent?
Yes, it will. The same fans that once clamored for Tebow's elevation to the starting position will now cheer the arrival of the true prophet. He'll get a pat on the back and a thanks for the memories, but the Denver fans aren't as clueless as their devotion to Tebow made them seem. They embraced it while he seemed the best option, but they just traded in their Honda for a Lamborghini. Albeit, a Lamborghini that just got out of the shop, but still, a Lamborghini.
When, and if, the Peyton deal does become final (sources say he will, but reporting has become so shoddy that you can't trust it until it actually happens), a fan base once in awe of a scrambling "quarterback" will be awakened by a stalwart statue whose passes actually help the team win. The Denver fans will come to their senses like a person being startled from a daydream and think to themselves, "Oh yeah, that's what it's supposed to look like. I think I've seen something like that before".
It was fun while it lasted. Everyone got caught up in the Tebow hype. Even as pundits everywhere pointed out that the defense was winning the game and Tebow was swooping in with some late-game heroics to steal the credit, no one cared. People just enjoyed watching him win. And that's fine. That's what it's all about. But, Tebow carried the team about as well as he threw the ball.
Maybe he'll go off to some other team and have success, but only if he can get into a Trent Dilfer role. Well, Dilfer with even less passing because the less of a quarterback Tebow has to be, the better off the team will be.
Yes, it will. The same fans that once clamored for Tebow's elevation to the starting position will now cheer the arrival of the true prophet. He'll get a pat on the back and a thanks for the memories, but the Denver fans aren't as clueless as their devotion to Tebow made them seem. They embraced it while he seemed the best option, but they just traded in their Honda for a Lamborghini. Albeit, a Lamborghini that just got out of the shop, but still, a Lamborghini.
When, and if, the Peyton deal does become final (sources say he will, but reporting has become so shoddy that you can't trust it until it actually happens), a fan base once in awe of a scrambling "quarterback" will be awakened by a stalwart statue whose passes actually help the team win. The Denver fans will come to their senses like a person being startled from a daydream and think to themselves, "Oh yeah, that's what it's supposed to look like. I think I've seen something like that before".
It was fun while it lasted. Everyone got caught up in the Tebow hype. Even as pundits everywhere pointed out that the defense was winning the game and Tebow was swooping in with some late-game heroics to steal the credit, no one cared. People just enjoyed watching him win. And that's fine. That's what it's all about. But, Tebow carried the team about as well as he threw the ball.
Maybe he'll go off to some other team and have success, but only if he can get into a Trent Dilfer role. Well, Dilfer with even less passing because the less of a quarterback Tebow has to be, the better off the team will be.
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