Midwest Wordsmith, White Cover Magazine
Only a year ago, there was nobody bigger. A year and a few months ago, you couldn’t turn on your TV without seeing some terrible pun involving either his name, or God, or Denver. When he was traded to New York, it became Tim’s Square, which I reluctantly admit is brilliant. Not long ago, Tebow was just a happy-go-lucky kid opposed to abortion (and, I’d assume gay rights?) who was turning down the role of The Bachelor and thwarting the advances of Taylor Swift much like he thwarts the advances of all women who haven’t seen him throw and foolishly think he can actually do it. But, whatever. She would have only wanted to turn him and his hard-to-believe virginity into a song lyric that would nab her a Grammy.
Tim Tebow seemed permanent, even if you didn’t think he’d always be playing football. He was just too big. Too popular. Too transcendent.
He was so above it all, Bill Maher didn’t even make fun of him.
(Oh, wait… that’s not true.)
So, where is he now?
Is he in Jacksonville? Is he in New York? Is he even on a football team?
Will he run the option, or is that whole option thing just over?
Or, has he faded away into oblivion?
(And, make no mistake, playing for the Jacksonville Jaguars is as close to oblivion and faded away as you can get.)