It was good to beat them four times.
After the game, we went to the Hilton, where we’d planned a surprise celebration for my mom’s birthday. All her friends and everybody in town were there, about a hundred of us in all, in what proved to be an incredibly happy occasion on an otherwise bittersweet day. As good as it felt to beat FSU and close out the regular season undefeated, it was hard to shake the knowledge that my time was coming to a close. Of course, before that could happen, we had to face the biggest test so far this year.
The next week
was the SEC Championship Game against Alabama. Carlos Dunlap got arrested during the week for driving under the influence of alcohol, and Coach Meyer understandably suspended him. I was furious with Carlos.
I don’t get why anyone would take substances that would affect their thinking anyway, but how someone could be so reckless and thoughtless, not only toward himself, but also toward both innocent bystanders as well as his teammates as we prepared for such an important game, was beyond me.
His loss really hurt us, both as a distraction during the week and during the game. Not only was he a good run stopper, but he was someone who could have brought pressure on the pass rush against their quarterback, Greg McElroy. As it turns out, we couldn’t do that all game. That hurt us.
They started the game off better than we did. We fell behind, but after every lead we came back. Unfortunately, we simply couldn’t stop them. We trailed 12–10 in the second quarter and then 19–13 at the half. Looking back, I should have been more unsettled than I was at halftime, but I was certain we would come back to win. They were controlling the line of scrimmage on both sides of the ball, however, and were simply crisper than we were.
As the second half began, they didn’t miss a beat, playing solid football that we couldn’t counter. They had a good plan for us defensively, by switching up their coverages and bracketing our receivers. On defense, we just couldn’t stop them enough. Or even at all, really. We ended up losing on a very long night, 32–13. On that night, they had the passion and focus and were the better team.
After the game, I was, as you probably can imagine, overwhelmed by emotion and could not hold back the tears. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Things weren’t supposed to end here like this. The feeling I was faced with now was different from after our last loss—the Ole Miss game in 2008. Disappointing as that loss was, I knew I could still do everything in my power to change the course of that season, and I did. I’d approached this game the way I’d approached every game since the Ole Miss game: I’m going to do everything in my power to make the future what I want it to be. On this day it hadn’t been enough, and it was an incredibly hard thing to swallow. And worse, it was the end. There was no bouncing back, at least not for our National Championship chances.
Before I could take the podium to address the media, Coach Saban came and found me. He was quite gracious. He told my family what a class act I was and how my determination last year had become the focal point for Alabama this season. As it turns out, while we were searching during the off-season for the motivation that would drive us to becoming the Best Ever, Coach Saban was telling his players that they had to match my determination. All year, Alabama was using my drive as their measuring stick. Nothing was going to shake off the pain of that loss, but I appreciated his comments that night more than he probably realized.
That game is one that will always be with me. It’ll always hurt like all the St. Augustine losses while at Nease. To lose an SEC Championship Game, and an undefeated season, and a National Championship, all in one fell swoop . . . well that was tough. We believed we were the two best teams in the country and whichever one of us won that day would win the National Championship game.
It ate at me, but that’s life. Sometimes it doesn’t break your way, yet the Lord has a plan for it all. I’d rather there be fair winds and following seas all the time in my life, but that’s not always what God has in mind for us. But either way, we are to honor Him and bring Him glory. Sometimes, people see more of your witness when you’re facing adversity than when everything is going your way. People expect you to be a good winner, but they know how agonizing it is to lose. When you are able to reflect God’s light during those times of great disappointment, it can have quite an impact. I try to keep that in mind.
I know that somewhere people may be watching you or me, and how they see us handle the adversity that comes into our lives could make a difference in how they handle something they face in their lives.
The next week, I went to Orlando for the Home Depot College Football Awards ceremony again. There was no pressure that year—I knew I wouldn’t win anything. We’d had a good year, but statistically other guys had been better.
There was a function the night before the Home Depot Awards, and as I walked into the ESPN Club at Disney’s BoardWalk, I saw her outside the window, looking at us. We sat at our table—the exact same spot in the exact same restaurant from which Uncle Bill (Heavener) had called my sister Christy in 2007 to see if she could come to the Heisman ceremony two days later. This time, however, I was thinking about the girl outside the window. The way she was looking at me, pointing toward me.
My dad tells me that he was trying to get my attention to introduce me to someone “important,” as he says it. I don’t recall that, because I was focused on someone else important. I asked Robby to go outside and bring the girl and her family through security, and I met her. Kelly Faughnan had been diagnosed with a brain tumor the prior year, and following surgery, she had asked her parents if they could come to Disney, not only for a vacation, but also to hopefully meet me at the Home Depot Awards. I was both flattered and shocked. Then, I had an idea: since I didn’t have a date for the following night at the awards ceremony, I asked her if she’d walk the red carpet and attend the event with me.
She agreed, and Uncle Bill also offered to give Kelly and her family a tour of Full Sail University’s Orlando campus the next afternoon. It’s a fascinating place to see, training people in entertainment, media, and fine arts.
They were late to their tour the next day and, in fact, ended up rescheduling it altogether. Turns out they were busy dress shopping for the event—I hadn’t even thought of that.
We had a great night, talking, walking the red carpet together, and enjoying each other’s company through the event. The Lord provided everything—we walked the red carpet more slowly than anyone else, because the surgery had left her balance a little off, but at the same time, I enjoyed stopping for everyone who wanted something signed. It was the perfect speed for both.
At the end of the evening, I turned to my mom and said that, sure enough, I didn’t win anything.
She paused, and I could tell that I was going to get some of Mom’s wisdom.
“You had the best night of all.”
Right again, Mom. Right again.
Going to the Heisman
that weekend was fun. Although I had won the Campbell Award, the “Academic Heisman,” we knew I wouldn’t be winning the original Heisman that year. I knew I wasn’t going to win, so that took all the pressure off. I’m the only player who has ever been invited to three of them, but I’m still not entirely sure why they even invited me. At the same time, I wasn’t going to turn down another one of those fun New York family vacations that we’d gotten used to the past few years.
While we were there, we got a chance to visit with Mark Ingram, and we adopted him into our family, since he’d made the trip by himself. At first he thought we were nuts—we showed him how we were breaking people’s hands on the sidewalks of Manhattan. Not literally breaking them, but breaking apart couples. For some reason, starting in 2007, Robby, Peter, and I were trying to see how many couples who were holding hands we could get to unclasp hands. I’m not sure why we did it, but we got some looks, followed by an occasional look of, “Wait. I think that was Tim Tebow who just made us let go . . .”
We would also do spin moves, by simply walking directly at people, then at the last minute, spinning as if they were a defender and walking past them. We got a lot of weird looks on that, too, including one from Mark. After a few minutes, however, he joined in.
So . . . if anyone tells you that Mark Ingram and three other guys made him and his wife unclasp their hands, or put a spin move on him on a New York sidewalk in December of 2009, it’s completely true.
On the Heisman night I could tell Mark was so tight and nervous; I asked him if he wanted to pray with me, much like Danny had done for me two years before. I knew how nerve wracking that night can be. I was pulling for him to win, especially after a weekend of spin moves. I encouraged him to handle it with his usual grace and humility and give God the credit. Thankfully, Mark won. What a class act.
In the meantime, I was concerned about Coach Meyer’s health. During the SEC Championship Game, he’d experienced chest pains, but with the way we’d played, who wouldn’t?
We tried to put it all out of our minds and prepare for Cincinnati. They’d been highly ranked all year, but to be honest, the excitement and energy to play Cincinnati in the Sugar Bowl wasn’t there in the same way. It was nothing personal against them—the same would have been true no matter who we faced. The bottom line was that our goal had been to play for the National Championship; anything less than that was a disappointment.
Still we had a pretty decent few weeks of practice. It was important to me that we finish strong. Sometimes in life things don’t work out as you’d hoped. You adopt phrases like Best Ever, and yet it doesn’t work out with the fairytale ending. How you respond is important. Do you put your tail between your legs, or do you find the next challenge and press on?
I wanted us to press on, to finish strong.
The day after Christmas, we were thrown a curveball: Coach Meyer resigned. I was excited for him to start his next phase of life with his family. It also gave us a renewed focus on the Sugar Bowl. The next day we went out there in shorts, shirts, and helmets and had an unbelievable practice at which Coach got really emotional.
I guess it was hard for him to decide what to do, and he was trying to make a quick yet wise decision. He changed his mind that same day and decided to come back for the Sugar Bowl and then take a leave of absence through the spring and stay as the head coach.
I really wanted the best for him, whichever direction he chose—he is someone who is always trying to do the right thing for his family, for himself, for the school, for his players, and for his coaches. He tried to figure out the best chance for success for his players, not just for football but for their lives. Every Tuesday during my senior year he would bring in people to talk about job opportunities and how you can get jobs, building your resume, etc. Stuff that would help the players when their playing careers were over, and he took away from practice time to do that for us. I think that shows a lot of character too. Really, though, you can’t even begin to scratch the surface of the number of lives he has affected and changed because he cares so much.
We finished strong, by the way. Cincinnati was ranked number four in the country, while we had fallen to number five after our loss to Alabama. They were undefeated and disappointed that they wouldn’t be playing for the National Championship. We, of course, were disappointed as well. We took out our disappointment on them.
I completed my first twelve passes, and we scored on our first five possessions, racing out to a big lead. I completed twenty of my first twenty-three passes for 320 yards and three touchdowns by halftime, and by early in the third quarter we led, 30–3.
We won, 51–24, and I passed for the most yards in my college career, 482, completing thirty-one of my thirty-five attempts. I ended up with 533 yards of total offense, the most in the history of any BCS game. It was a tremendous way to finish, both for me as well as for our senior class. In doing so, we became the first school to win thirteen games in back-to-back seasons.
Some think we showed that we were, in fact, the Best Ever.
And when I was finished with my eligibility, Nancy Scarborough, Coach Meyer’s assistant who is such a good friend—who I hung out with every day with Coach Meyer—called and said that I had a package there to pick up. Phil Mickelson remembered how bad my driver was when we played, so he sent me two drivers.
Coach was coming back to the University of Florida, but I was not. I was headed out into the unknown, again.
I was finished here, and like so many of the guys I was privileged to play with and the coaches who coached us, I did the best I could, trying to always finish strong.
Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
—P
HILIPPIANS 3:13–14
I was finished
with my college eligibility. I had also graduated with honors from the University of Florida with a bachelor’s degree in family, youth, and community sciences. I don’t think I could’ve squeezed many more experiences out of those years than I did.
By then I had selected an agent for the next phase in my life, a potential professional career in football—the NFL. Florida has a panel to help screen agents, and after interviewing a number of them, my family decided that Jimmy Sexton from Memphis, Tennessee, was the best fit for us.
Jimmy suggested that I attend the Senior Bowl in Mobile, Alabama, in late January, to work out for the NFL scouts who would be there en masse. Unfortunately, when I arrived in Mobile, I was coming down with strep throat. I pushed through the infection, not letting anyone know that I was sick. It wasn’t easy—I felt terrible and didn’t eat for two days—but I didn’t want to skip anything. Jimmy, instead, began telling people that I was ill, which I hated because I didn’t want to use an excuse. I did, however, actually have esophagitis, and I lost sixteen pounds that week.
He probably had to, because once again, as has happened every time I moved on to the next challenge, the critics were out in full force. And if I wasn’t able to practice and play at my full speed and ability because of an illness, it would be much better for those evaluating my performance to know that any shortfall in performance wasn’t the result of lack of effort but instead because of strep. Much like the writers who said that my style would never work in the SEC, now the prognosticators were saying that my throwing motion—thanks, Dad!—would never allow me to be successful in the NFL. My draft status was speculated to be anywhere from the first round to well down in the draft order.
At one point in Mobile, I was in my hotel room signing autographs, and my brothers were there with me, joking around and always helping to keep the atmosphere light and bring a little perspective to the moment. Suddenly, an ESPN commentator came on the television screen and opined, “Tim Tebow is probably the fifth or sixth best quarterback in the 2010 draft.” I guess that’s a step up—based on what Oklahoma said, I thought I was only fifth or sixth best in the Big 12. The room was instantly still and quiet, but I kept signing autographs. Robby noted that the commentator wasn’t in charge of any club’s draft and never had been. “You know how many guys he’ll be choosing at the draft? Zero.”
I didn’t care. Really. I’d heard that before. I was already working as hard as I could; some comments by someone I didn’t know weren’t going to change my approach or how I saw myself. I kept signing, and then we went to the weight room for a workout.
Somewhere he is out there . . .
As Jimmy kept reminding me, we didn’t need to convince all thirty-two teams to value me enough to pick me, only one. My Senior Bowl stay and performance was adequate and gave me a baseline from which I could improve. Adequate, though, has never been a measure I have aspired to reach, and so I was looking forward to improving in all the areas I needed to for the next level. Those improvements started immediately, as I began working out in Nashville at a facility called D1 Sports Training.
I ran, I threw, I lifted, and I did a variety of drills to improve my body. I also continued watching film and looked for ways to improve the mental part of my game. Anything I could do to make myself better, I did. I threw thousands of passes of all distances, arcs, spin speeds, touches, and routes.
Even as we were thinking about what possibilities my next platform that God had in store might bring, another opportunity arose. In conjunction with Bill Heavener and Focus on the Family, we decided to create an advertisement to be played during the Super Bowl. We were very fortunate that Focus on the Family had donors step up to fund the ad.
Mom and I were the main actors in the ad and had a lot of fun shooting the commercial. But we didn’t let the subject matter of the script get out, and as soon as word got out that we were doing an ad with Focus on the Family, it instantly created a huge swirl of attention—with both supporters and detractors trying to figure out what the ad was all about. It was fun to see the speculation on every front as to the message the ad would convey. Because of the story surrounding the circumstances of my birth, everybody on both sides of the issue immediately assumed that it was a pro-life message. So many columnists took me to task for something they assumed was going to be in the ad, but wasn’t.
Ultimately, the ad was a celebration of life and about the importance of family, showing me and my mom laughing and just being together. At one point in the ad, I tackled my mom, and she popped back up and warned me to be careful—“You’re not nearly as tough as I am.” Considering that she raised five homeschooled kids, she was right.
People seemed to enjoy the ad, and it really captured my mom and me and our relationship perfectly. Fun, lighthearted, enjoying life together. Focus on the Family’s website did contain a message about the circumstances of my birth, and they received a number of stories from people who altered their outlook on the issue based on my birth story. A survey by the Barna Group showed that five and a half million people indicated that they had cause to rethink their position on abortion. All in all, it was a great experience.
By late February, it was time for the NFL Combine, gathering together the projected top college football players, in Indianapolis, Indiana. The NFL teams, through their representatives and club scouts, take physical examinations; test your strength, speed, and agility; work you out in football drills; and interview you. I was pleased with my performance—I even had the fastest three-cone time of all the quarterbacks at the Combine and third or fourth-fastest overall, a test of quickness and agility.
And then after the Combine, back to my regimen—more lifting, more running, more throwing.
There were a ton of NFL folks at the Pro Day hosted by the University of Florida on March 17. That was understandable, because we had a lot of really good players who were entering the draft: Joe Haden, Brandon Spikes, Aaron Hernandez, Riley Cooper, David Nelson, and others. The scouts and coaches were also curious to see me and how I threw; I had chosen not to work on any passing drills at the Combine because I wanted to continue working on my throwing motion.
Pro Day went well, I thought, but at the end of the day, the measure by which all quarterbacks are evaluated is winning and losing. Drew Brees is too short, they said. He’s turned out to be a pretty good quarterback. Meanwhile, other guys with great mechanics couldn’t lead. I just needed someone who believed in me and my abilities and who I was inside.
I didn’t have to get
every
team to want to take me . . . just that
one
.
We stayed in Jacksonville for the NFL draft. I was invited by the NFL to attend the draft in New York, but given the relative uncertainty of the round in which I was going to be selected, as well as the desire to stay at home with family and friends who had watched and been a part of this long journey with me, I decided to stay back in Jacksonville.
We actually had a big party, with family and friends. Jeremy Schaap of ESPN was there, as was Scott Hanson of the NFL Network. Bryan Craun, our longtime friend, was gracious enough to host it at his home—watching the draft at his house had become an annual event for my brothers and me. It was the first time that we were listening for my name, however.
Jimmy predicted that Denver would take me somewhere toward the end of the first round. However, Denver used their first-round pick on a wide receiver near the end of the first round, so it didn’t look like that would be the case.
In the meantime, the Draft had been going on for hours—pick after pick, name after name. The excitement was still there, but people were nervous and tired. Would I be taken that night, or would I have to wait for the second round the next day—or later?
The phone rang. I looked down and saw a 303 area code. Denver.
I turned to Jimmy. “It’s from 303. Should I answer it?” I knew who it was, but I didn’t let my expression give it away.
Jimmy almost fell out of the chair, scrambling to his feet. “It’s Denver! Answer it! Answer it! It’s them!”
We still laugh about that.
It was Josh McDaniels, the head coach of the Denver Broncos, who told me that they were trading picks to move back into the first round and were selecting me.
I’ve heard rumors that the Minnesota Vikings and Jacksonville Jaguars were also trying to trade up to take me. However, neither did, and I was a Denver Bronco.
A few days later, on Mother’s Day, I spoke at a church in Memphis and shared briefly about my mother’s refusal to abort me. After the service, a young woman waited to speak with me. “I have an abortion scheduled for tomorrow morning at 9 a.m.,” she cried, “and now I will not go through with it.”
Amazing what God does when we simply plant seeds.
I rented a house
with my brothers in Denver and began spending as much time as I could there, participating in every team activity. Robby helps handle my off-field activities and Peter’s in graduate school there. Although I had hoped to compete for the starting job from the beginning, the coaches made it clear that they didn’t want to rush it, but would rather allow me to get acclimated to the NFL. They had traded for Kyle Orton the prior season, and he was still the starter.
I started the Tim Tebow Foundation to carry on the work that we began with First and 15, to bring faith, hope, and love to those needing a brighter day in their darkest hour of need.
I kept working hard, learning as much as I could the best that I could. It’s a challenge, being a backup in the NFL. You get very few repetitions in practice during the week, but you need to be sharp and ready in case you play. As for me, I didn’t play much at all for most of the year.
In our opening game, a loss to the Jaguars in Jacksonville, I rushed twice for two yards and didn’t play again for five weeks. Then, against the New York Jets, I rushed six times for twenty-three yards, including my first NFL touchdown. The following week, I ran for another touchdown against the 49ers in a game that we played at Wembley Stadium in London. Two weeks later, I threw my first NFL touchdown pass and ran for another, against the Chiefs.
I was playing primarily in goal-line situations, and while I was pleased to be contributing, it was hard to watch from the sidelines while Kyle was quarterbacking. I hoped to have my role expand, of course. I don’t know anyone who is successful who didn’t believe that he could do something well if given a chance—I am no exception.
As the season progressed, we struggled to win games. After week 13 of the season, we were 3–9 (having already had our bye week), and Josh McDaniels was fired. His firing was distressing, in that Josh believed in me enough to draft me. It was also a strange situation once I arrived, because despite his belief, he didn’t play me much. It’s not like we were having such success that it would have been an unreasonable risk. But I also realized that the NFL is different, and Josh, the coaches, and management wanted to give me every opportunity to learn and grow to give me every likelihood of being successful. And so I continued to learn, work hard, and support Kyle and the team and, occasionally when I got in the game, do whatever I could do to help make us successful.
After Josh was let go, the uncertainty seemed to focus on me as much as on anyone. Speculation began immediately that I might not remain in Denver for long, because Coach McDaniels, my biggest supporter, was gone.
I didn’t have time to focus on that. Instead, I dealt with the uncertainty the way that I’ve always tried to: I don’t know what the future holds, but I know who holds my future. That’s what gives me hope and peace and is what I lean on, because each day is going to have enough trouble of its own. That’s why we don’t need to look to tomorrow; we need to worry about today and look to Him as He guides and directs our day. What can we do today that will have eternal consequences not only then but now; how can we affect people in a positive way today; what are the right decisions we can make today? I know that no matter what happens, there’s a plan for it, and even though we don’t always understand it all and why things happen the way they do, I know that one day it will all make sense as part of God’s eternal plan for all of our lives. Even if it doesn’t turn out the way that I hope, it will be disappointing but I’ll be all right, because God never stops loving me, or you. And God will use every one of those things—some of which may seem good and some bad to you at the time—in His overall plan for your life and mine.
Just because something bad happens doesn’t mean that He stopped caring about you or that He stopped being sovereign. Those things are simply part of His plan that we’ll never understand here on earth, like trying to understand the Trinity—the truth of God’s existing in three persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I’m just never going to fully understand it. That’s where faith comes in. It’s not knowing about tomorrow, but it’s knowing that I have a God who loves me and is going to keep me in His plans and safe in His hands through those coming days without my even knowing what’s going to happen. It gives me great comfort to know that God is not only with me and carrying me when I need to be carried but, already waiting for me in my tomorrow. Now what is there for me to worry about with God already there to care and lay out His plan for me?
Sure, the emotions of the moment can weigh on me, but I try to quickly get myself refocused on the Lord. One way I do it is through prayer, and another way is by giving everything to the Lord. That’s something my mom taught me when I was young, and she still says it to me today.