Teeeeeeee-bowwwwwww! And the legend grows
It would appear that Tim Tebow is just one of those guys.
You know the kind, the fella who muddles along doing nothing of significance, a bit of a screw up, a guy who looks like he’s totally lost doing whatever it is he’s doing.
Yes that was him, again.
Pulling out a victory in the dying seconds of a close game, a game upon which he’d had little positive impact until the final drive.
The Denver Broncos quarterback is now 4-1 as a starter, he is routinely excoriated during the week for his failings, he kind of shrugs it all off, looks horrible for long stretches again and when it’s time to win, all he does is win.
We don’t get ‘em in sports too often but Tebow is proving that conventional thinking means very little when assessing his impact. And it’s great fun to watch.
His numbers generally stink (9-for-20 passing for 104 yards in total against the Jets on Thursday, two measly completions in an entire game – a win -- against Kansas City on Sunday) but there just seems to be something about his will, his strength of character, that allows him to have so much confidence in his abilities that you now half expect him to pull off some miracle every time he gets on the field.
So do his teammates, according to Von Miller, a defensive lineman who gets to stand on the sidelines and watch like the rest of us:
"No matter how many interceptions he throws, no matter how many touchdowns he scores, that's Tim Tebow and I'm going to ride with him to the end. I hope he shut up a whole bunch of critics today.”
Fun, isn’t it?
We want our sports stars – and that seems to be what Tebow is morphing into right before our eyes – to be part-mortal, part-superhuman. We like the Everyman aspect them and that’s what Tebow seems to be. He’s normal with gusts to bad until it’s time for drama and – most important – time to win. Then he wins.
You gotta love the guy for what he does on the field.
Oh, and to keep with a longstanding theme around these parts, the stats don’t matter a lick, do they? You look at his numbers and he should be on the bench, you look at what counts – winning – and he’s going to the Hall of Fame.
There is no advanced metric for heart. Thankfully.
So, what’s this additional wild card mean for the TOD?
(That’s Team Of Destiny for newbies).
I concur with my learned colleague Griff who says, simply, nothing really.
It shouldn’t have any real impact on what GM Alex Anthopoulos does this winter to improve his team; he has to do whatever he thinks makes the most sense regardless of the number of post-season slots available.
I never really bought into the “we’re going to try to win in 2013 or 2014” stuff being spewed. You try to win every year and make the moves necessary to do that without regard for such things as wild cards. If there’s a good deal that makes sense, make it this winter, make it next spring, make it when it presents itself.
You can’t “plan” to contend, you try your level best to contend and win every time you step on the field or court or whatever.
It’s nice that there should be an additional playoff berth around next fall, it might stop some of the incessant whining and “woe is us” crap I hear from fans about the AL East.
But to the big shots? Can’t mean a thing.
Weekend’s coming and so are two days of mail, which is good because it means I just have to react to stuff rather than search the dark recesses of the brain trying to create marginally interesting stuff for this spot each morning.
Go here, write words, send them in. Make my life a tad easier.
You can’t seem to turn around thee days without seeing some ad for the big Twilight vampire thingy in theatres today.
Yawn. Can’t stand vampire things; haven’t read the books and don’t want to, haven’t seen the movies and don’t want to, don’t get the whole fascination and never will.
I bet I’m the only guy you know who’s been to Forks, Washington.
We’re on an otherwise outstanding vacation to Vancouver, Whistler, Victoria, Seattle a couple of years ago and Super Wife and Super Son – having read all the Twilight books and being all vampire-loving and all – decide we need to go see Forks since we’re going to be in Seattle.
Sure, sayeth I, figuring a quick trip over will allow me to leverage, oh, I dunno, maybe an afternoon at Kells, only one of the top three NBA saloons and a place I’d missed. How bad a drive could it be, right?
Anyway, off we go only to find out – and here where the problem comes – that Forks isn’t particularly close to Seattle. Or anywhere, actually.
Seems you go south out of the city, make a right, drive for, oh, six hours or so on a two-lane highway through a national park/forest/most-boring-place-on-the-earth kind of place. You get to the end of the world, drive about 45 more minutes and, presto!, there it is.
Um. Such that it is. You spend 45 minutes or so buying t-shirts and taking pictures and looking like the other foolish travellers who weren’t sure what they were getting into when the day began. Then you bundle yourself back in the car, drive back to the end of the Earth, take a ferry across some body of water (which we didn’t know about on the outbound trek) and, voila, after about 14 hours you’re back in Seattle. But you’ve been to Forks. Whoop-dee-damn-doo.
You can’t imagine how many points I got for going through that ordeal.
Blew ‘em inside a week, though.
Fashion show today.
At least I think it’s a fashion show.
Got a nice invitation from the Jays this week to attend something on the field at the Rogers Centre and since it’s that time of year, there wasn’t any news to chat about, and they were going to change the uniforms anyway …
Gotta be, right?
Now, not sure I’ll be scribbling about – the inimitable Griff’s going to have that under control, I hope – but it’ll be fun to dissect the look sometime on the weekend from this rather, um, unique fashion perspective.
And, shockingly, I bet you can go buy your favourite jersey somewhere tomorrow.
Just ‘cause (a) I miss Jack and Matt and (b) I heard it in a saloon yesterday.