OK, now this is officially getting ridiculous.
I don't know what's more amazing, Tim Tebow leading yet another miracle comeback for the Broncos or the fact he had a 149.3 passer rating today. Because as we all know, he throws like one of the nerds on "The Big Bang Theory," runs like an aardvark and (cue Merril Hoge and/or Trent Dilfer and/or all the other experts currently frothing at the mouth at the very thought of Tebow) he's terrible, just terrible, an utter disgrace to his profession.
He's the pigeon pooping on a bronze statue of Joe Montana. That's who he is.
Which, of course, is why he's now my alltime favorite football player. I mean, how do you not love someone who's so gleefully (and humbly!) sticking his finger right in the eye of the culture of over-analysis that rules the modern NFL with an iron fist?
The guy threw a ball today in the midst of the winning drive that quacked so loudly half the stadium donned camo and pulled out shotguns. And yet somehow he completed it. For a 40-yard gain.
Who the heck does that?
Well, I have a theory. And it's probably not going to be a popular one, given Tebow's very public, and polarizing, expression of his faith.
I say the guy's Joe Hardy.
Hardy, for non-fans of literature and musicals, was the everyday schlub in Douglass Wallop's novel "The Year The Yankees Lost The Pennant" (and its musical adapation, "Damn Yankees") who sold his soul to the devil so he could become a wunderkind baseball player and rescue his moribund Washington Senators. Basically he hit a home run any time he felt like it and never, ever lost.
Who's that sound like?
That's right: Tim Tebow.