Malcolm Gladwell's recent compilation What the Dog Saw includes a 2008 article examining what he calls "the quarterback problem." This phenomenon refers to the difficulty NFL scouts have predicting which college quarterbacks are most capable of succeding at the professional level. Quarterbacking is so different between college and the pros--more drastically than is the case for any other position in football--that even some of the most talented, highly-touted quarterbacks in college football history have proven incapable of making the adjustment. Gladwell's observation is that there is no sure way to know how a quarterback will perform for an NFL team until they are given the opportunity to do so, because there's really no relevant track record to evaluate.
There's a recent, curious case that I'd love to hear Gladwell's take on: Tim Tebow.
Tebow is only in his second season, so the jury is still out on whether he's a legitimate franchise quarterback. But what he's demonstrated so far has been nothing short of baffling.
[If you're already familiar with Tebow's background, or if, like most readers, you simply can't stomach my exposition except in small doses, feel free to skip the italicized section.]
Tim Tebow was a two-time national champion and Hesiman award winner at the University of Florida. He was a monster of a runner, a capable if sloppy passer, and such a charismatic leader (and vocal evangelical Christian) that he became an icon as a college quarterback more for his disposition than his talent. NFL scouts suggested he was probably a good enough athlete to succeed as a running back or receiver, but that his skill set was woefully inadequate for quarterbacking on the professional level. As Gladwell noted, predicting which college quarterbacks are primed to make a successful leap to the next level is difficult. But Tebow appeared to be the ultimate example of an overrated college superstar destined to be a bust in the NFL. His sloppy fundamentals and inexperience with anything resembling a passing offense seemed the perfect setup for a spectacular failure.
The Denver Broncos nevertheless drafted Tebow in the first round, and it quickly became apparent the scouts were right about one thing--Tebow looks nothing like an NFL quarterback. His throwing motion is a prolonged windup. His passes don't spiral cleanly. His accuracy is marginal at best. He runs the ball well, but that only gives credence to the argument that he would have better suited switching to a different position. And yet, with Tebow behind center, his team has won a string of games this season in improbable and often dramatic fashion. They won their division and, in their first playoff game, knocked off the postseason-fixture Pittsburgh Steelers on a ludicrous game-ending 80-yard TD on the first play of overtime.
But that still leaves the question about winning. How is Tebow doing this? Though some pundits are praising Tebow for being "clutch" and "a leader" and saying "he knows how to win," none of those intangibles explain how a guy can validate the obvious shortcomings of his skill set and yet repeatedly pluck victory out of thin air. It's ridiculous to call it a mirale since even the man himself wouldn't. But what is it, then? Can he really be better than he appears to be?
Denver travels to New England this weekend to play the Patriots, who drubbed the Broncos 41-23 back in December. I don't see this ending well for Tim and Co., but they'll have to be down multiple TDs late in the fourth quarter before anyone will think of counting them out. And if they do pull off an upset, Tebow himself may have to take to the airwaves to explain to his fervent fans what "miraculous" really means, and why the word doesn't apply to football.
There's a recent, curious case that I'd love to hear Gladwell's take on: Tim Tebow.
Tebow is only in his second season, so the jury is still out on whether he's a legitimate franchise quarterback. But what he's demonstrated so far has been nothing short of baffling.
[If you're already familiar with Tebow's background, or if, like most readers, you simply can't stomach my exposition except in small doses, feel free to skip the italicized section.]
Tim Tebow was a two-time national champion and Hesiman award winner at the University of Florida. He was a monster of a runner, a capable if sloppy passer, and such a charismatic leader (and vocal evangelical Christian) that he became an icon as a college quarterback more for his disposition than his talent. NFL scouts suggested he was probably a good enough athlete to succeed as a running back or receiver, but that his skill set was woefully inadequate for quarterbacking on the professional level. As Gladwell noted, predicting which college quarterbacks are primed to make a successful leap to the next level is difficult. But Tebow appeared to be the ultimate example of an overrated college superstar destined to be a bust in the NFL. His sloppy fundamentals and inexperience with anything resembling a passing offense seemed the perfect setup for a spectacular failure.
The Denver Broncos nevertheless drafted Tebow in the first round, and it quickly became apparent the scouts were right about one thing--Tebow looks nothing like an NFL quarterback. His throwing motion is a prolonged windup. His passes don't spiral cleanly. His accuracy is marginal at best. He runs the ball well, but that only gives credence to the argument that he would have better suited switching to a different position. And yet, with Tebow behind center, his team has won a string of games this season in improbable and often dramatic fashion. They won their division and, in their first playoff game, knocked off the postseason-fixture Pittsburgh Steelers on a ludicrous game-ending 80-yard TD on the first play of overtime.
Tebow is becoming an icon as an NFL player primarily for two reasons. The first is that, despite his largely
unimpressive numbers and questionable mechanics, he’s
succeeding in the most important statistic: He’s winning games. Ironically, he hasn’t really disproven
his critics. He’s simply rendered
their criticisms irrelevant—for now. Still, many of the criticisms are valid. The Broncos
have a stout defense and solid running game (both of which Tebow acknowledges) that
keep games close. This makes the former Gator’s heroics possible, but suggests they ought not be necessary.
Competent quarterbacks on good teams shouldn’t have to repeatedly pull off late-game
theatrics in order to win. One can make a strong case that most credit for the Broncos’ success should
be given to the coaches and team that have re-tooled their offense to play to
Tebow’s strengths. In general, though, criticisms
of Tebow are getting more difficult to support as he keeps winning. By all logic, NFL teams should have figured
out how to stop his relatively limited arsenal by now.
The second reason for Tebow’s iconic status is his very public
Christian faith. Tebow never misses an
opportunity to proclaim his love for Jesus Christ and thank God during interviews. He also frequently kneels in prayer on the
sideline throughout the game, to the point that the pose, dubbed “Tebowing,” has
become somewhat of a trademark. Such a brazen display of faith is understandably bewildering to many football
fans and players who have never seen anything quite so over-the-top. Tebow himself has tried to explain his fervor
by saying that loving Jesus isn’t that dissimilar to loving your wife and
wanting to let the world know about it.
Puzzled journalists respond that it would be equally confusing for a
quarterback to start every interview by proclaiming to love his wife. Really, it’s probably inevitable that Tebow’s
zeal will leave many shaking their heads, even if he simultaneously earns the
admiration of Christians for his unapologetic evangelism.
I have no problem
with Tebow himself. The guy gives his team credit for his success, his intensity doesn't
wane, and he has largely shrugged off the criticism leveled at
him. Personally, I find
it hilarious that the guy continues to defy experts and all reason by winning, especially since even the Broncos didn't seem to believe Tebow was a legitimate quarterback when they named him the starter. My only complaint is that sports journalists seem
compelled to write a new story about Tebow every day, just to have a story
about Tebow every day. It’s
gotten ridiculous, and may get worse. But that really isn’t Tim Tebow’s fault.
...The conundrum to which I refer, which probably isn't really a "conundrum" by any appropriate definition, can be summed up in with two questions:
- Are Tebow’s full-throttle Christian proclamations as effective as he thinks they are?
- How on earth is he continuing to win games the way he is?
First of all, I don't think the two are connected—at least, not directly. Tebow's overt Christianity does not earn him favors from God in the form of on-field success. I firmly believe (and Tebow agrees with me) that
God would never intervene in the outcome of a sporting event. It’s such a silly
and trivial issue, really, that Tebow admits he doesn’t pray for victory before
games. He only prays that he’ll play honorably and to the best of his ability. In Colossians, Paul writes that, whatever we
do in this world, we should do it as though serving the Lord and not men. Maybe Tebow prepares diligently, and therefore plays well, because he
sees it as his mission to glorify God by taking his job seriously. It makes sense, but it doesn’t make
Tebow unique. There are many Christian
players in the NFL that likely take the same approach but either haven’t been as successful
or haven't gotten the same attention.
In terms of sharing his faith, I don't get the sense that Tebow talking about Jesus has a dramatic, direct impact on people who don't already share his faith. It's difficult for non-Christians to relate to his in-your-face proclamations. To them, Tebow borders on caricature--a football hero version of Ned Flanders. But Tebow's boldness may be infectious to would-be missionaries who can share their faith through personal relationships. Or, to borrow a football metaphor, Tebow may be the "wedge buster" on the mission field. Though its use has fallen out of favor in recent years, a "wedge" is a tight bunch of lead blockers teams use on kickoff returns to open up the field for the runner with the ball. The "wedge buster" was the kickoff coverage man with the thankless job of running straight in to break up the wedge so that his teammates could get to the returner. Even in my own limited understanding of football fundamentals and my abysmal grasp of metaphors, the fruit of Tebow's ministry may be that he has broken the ice for many Christians to have meaningful conversations about things like faith. (And before I get skewered for comparing the act of sharing one's faith to driving an opposing football player to the turf, consider Jesus' illustration of "fishing" for men.)
But that still leaves the question about winning. How is Tebow doing this? Though some pundits are praising Tebow for being "clutch" and "a leader" and saying "he knows how to win," none of those intangibles explain how a guy can validate the obvious shortcomings of his skill set and yet repeatedly pluck victory out of thin air. It's ridiculous to call it a mirale since even the man himself wouldn't. But what is it, then? Can he really be better than he appears to be?
Denver travels to New England this weekend to play the Patriots, who drubbed the Broncos 41-23 back in December. I don't see this ending well for Tim and Co., but they'll have to be down multiple TDs late in the fourth quarter before anyone will think of counting them out. And if they do pull off an upset, Tebow himself may have to take to the airwaves to explain to his fervent fans what "miraculous" really means, and why the word doesn't apply to football.
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