Monday, May 3, 2010

JESUS PLAYS FOR BRONCOS NOW: Or how I stopped hating and learned to love the Tebow-Jesus



Tim Tebow banged this chick, but in a way only

someone so Christian can do. She did not abort the baby,

instead Tim Tebow's seed aborted her. Thus she never existed

to tempt the man-God that is Tim Tebow.


Still sans computer, I have been away for a few weeks. But fortunately not much has happened in the sports world since then.

OH, except everything. But reacting to Tebow is most important.

And apparently based on what I wrote below, I have picked back up the Peyote habit. Enjoy:

I remember having a facebook discussion with my boy Kevan (who penned this lovely Super Bowl preview) last fall about the possibility of the Broncos selecting Tim Tebow, as I kind of laughed it off as a worst-case scenario. But as the draft approached I just kept feeling it in my soul that McDaniels was going to pick Tebow, probably the college football player I have hated more than any other college football player* since Chris Simms (also, of course, a Bronco last year). [This excludes players at that shithole in Boulder, I hate them all so much more. Especially Scotty McKnight. May the dementia from this hit set in ASAP]

Tebow is the apex of the ESPN-overhype machine, just rammed down your throat constantly as a "great leader" and "such an amazing person." Which is cool, but I don't need to be reminded of this every six seconds. So every time Tebow's name was mentioned I grew to hate him just a little more, just like BrettFarverer. And since he was mentioned a approx. twenty-gagillion times, my level of anti-Tebow hatred was so thick it was being used as food in several third-world countries (like Oklahoma).

In the days before the draft I was so angry that I declared my intentions to file fan free agency papers if/when the Broncos took Tebow. And I followed through on this promise. For about a day I was no longer a Broncos fan. I was seriously questioning if I even wanted to be a fan of an NFL team, or if I just wanted to cheer for ex-CSU guys and just start following the NFL as a fan of the game, not a particular team. The Broncos, and pro football, over the course of the last decade had left me that jaded.


But now, a week later, I am a Tebow fan. How, you ask? Well let me tell you:


I turned to meditation to lead me to the light. I ate only Orange Crush and sniffed blue Kool-Aid for seven days whilst reading all of the Denver Broncos Scriptures, and in my delirious haze I was blessed with a vision.


At first it was terrible, as I was surrounded with NFL-demons vying for my football soul, trying to snatch my two blessed Lombardi trophies away. Marmalard de Float, Cutler of Douche, the soulless Al Davis and the most evil Schottenhiemer, and more, were tearing at me. Then, Elway-God, atop his magical horse, the Sharpest of Shannon, descended from the Gates of Mile High vanquishing Cleveland Browns and Oakland Raiders alike with lightning bolts flung from his right hand. He slew defenders of every NFL team out to get me.


Only one foe remained, an opponent that was almost an exact copy of Elway-God, but warped like a fun house mirror reflection. It was wearing blue and orange. It was striking in it's prototypical NFL quarterback look. But instead of Super Bowl trophies like the Elway-God, it held two NCAA Trophies, was left handed and wore #15. Yes, Tebow stood in to face Elway-God.


It appeared the two would have to fight to the death, for only one could hold my devotion whilst the other must perish. One human can only worship one being. They clashed, but suddenly from within the Tebow shouts rang out proclaiming him "the greatest leader since Ghengis Kahn" and "the best person to walk the Earth." An army of prognosticators and football experts came charging out of him, attacking the Elway-God. It seemed that there was no hope, but at the last moment the Elway-God reached deep into his bag of tricks, scrambled from the pocket and unleashed a 70-yard throw across the field to a wide-open Marc Jackson, saving the day.

He then turned to the Tebow and said, "You will never have the arm to do such a thing. Your release takes far too long."

And with that the Tebow's supporters suddenly turned on him, attacking his every flaw. "Never be an NFL QB." "Drafted too soon." "Another McMistake." "Dan LeFavor is better." They screamed and mocked. They tore him to bits, until the giant Tebow beast was devastated beyond recognition.

Humbled, I approached Elway-God with the withered corpse of the Tebow, and apologized for my wavering belief in the one divine Elway.

He turned to me, gave me his big-toothed smile, and said, "It is never to late to mount a comeback."

And with that, he placed his hand on Tebow, sending a surge of light and life into his body.

The Elway-God then spoke: "The Tebow has been cast down, beaten. He has had his own people torment him. But now he will become the chosen quarterback to lead fourth-quarter comebacks. For his entire career will be a comeback.

"I know dub thee, Tebow-Jesus. He shall lead your Broncos and chop the tip of your dick off."


And that, my friends, is how I came to be a fan of the Tebow-Jesus.


(It was either that, or I watched a a replay of the draft and decided that Tebow was so genuinely happy to play for us that I couldn't be mad anymore. Whichever story you prefer...)

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