It's Tebow Time

How can you not love Tim Tebow.

He’s the Sanjaya of the NFL.

No matter what he does.

He wins.

No matter how he does it.

He wins.

No matter how many experts say what a loser he is.

He wins.

Now as a diehard Raiders fan, I’m not really wild about having such a winner in our division.

But this guy is truly something.

Terrible.

Erratic.

Brutal

Odious.

Wretched.

That’s Tebow.

But at the end of the game.

He just beat you.

Somehow.

And nobody can really explain how he does it.

Not me.

Not the broadcasters.

Not his coaches.

But today I found a higher source that must know something that none of us do.

My iPhone.

When I went to send a text with Tebow’s name in it, my iPhone told me that Tebow is not a word.

It suggested changing “Tebow” to “Renown”.

As in “a state of being widely acclaimed or highly honored.”

Now that’s a smart phone.

Tim Tebow might’ve been great at throwing a football through a tire at the Florida Fairground.

But in the NFL, he can barely complete a pass.

Last week in Kansas City he threw the ball eight times.

In the entire game.

Completed two.

As in One.

And Two.

That’s it.

That’s 25% for those of you without a calculator.

Those two passes went for a grand total of 69 yards.

Tom Brady does that in two minutes.

Tim Tebow does that in a game.

For most quarterbacks, 69 passing yards in a game would equal a trip to the Arena Football League.

For Tim Tebow it meant a win.

Another win.

His third win in four weeks since becoming the starter.

Wins against the pathetic Miami Dolphins.

The enigmatic Oakland Raiders.

And those anemic Chiefs from Kansas City.

But in the NFL, a win is a win.

And right now Tebow is piling them up.

Like a stack of pancakes at IHOP.

His latest conquest came Thursday night in Denver.

Against the not-so-high flying Jets of New York.

For 55 minutes, Tebow was his usual terrible self.

15 passes.

Six completions.

69 yards.

The same exact 69 yards he threw for one week earlier.

When he beat the Chiefs.

But the game is not 55 minutes long.

It’s 60.

And in the last five minutes, Tebow did what Tebow do.

Win.

He led the Broncos on a where-in-the-hell-did-this-come-from 95-yard drive.

From one side of the field.

To the other.

Running the final 20 yards.

Into the end zone.

For the game-winning touchdown.

Again.

Watching a Denver quarterback rally his team to victory in the final minutes of a game is nothing new.

John Elway made a career of it.

But Tim Tebow is no John Elway.

He is better.

Hey, that’s not me talking.

That’s the numbers.

In his first eight starts, John Elway had a record of 3-5.

With three touchdowns.

And 10 interceptions.

In his first eight starts, Tim Tebow has a record of 5-3.

With 10 touchdowns.

And four interceptions.

Wait, there’s more.

In his entire career -- you know, those eight starts (plus two in relief).

Tebow has rallied the Broncos back from 10+ points in the fourth quarter to win three times.

In his 234 games, Elway -- the Hall of Famer -- rallied the Broncos back from 10+ points in the fourth quarter.

Twice.

Now you don’t need 3D glasses to see that the style of Tebow and the style of Elway have absolutely nothing in common.

Nothing.

But at the end of the day, they both know how to win.

And now they are attached at the hip.

When Tebow reached the end zone to win the game on Thursday night.

The first thing the TV broadcast did was cut to a shot of Big John.

In his luxury suite.

Wearing his new hat as the Executive VP of Football Operations for the Broncos.

Tebow’s Broncos.

Elway was clapping.

And almost smiling.

But let’s be honest.

Tim Tebow winning in Denver is the last thing that John Elway expected when he took the job in January.

And if I were a gambling man, I would double down that Elway doesn’t believe that Tebow can win a Super Bowl.

But after the last month, there is a 0.0 chance Elway will be able to get rid of Tebow at the end of the year.

As he had planned.

And with TebowMania running wild, there is a 0.0 chance Elway will select his franchise quarterback in the next draft.

As he had planned.

But Tebow Time is not just a Denver story anymore.

It's the best story to happen to the NFL in years.

And that's something that nobody expected.

Bad Medicine

The phone rang early on a Saturday morning.

It was Dr. Tom.

Not the call I was expecting.

Especially early on a Saturday morning.

He informed me that he had just finished his research.

And he had some troubling news for us.

Cooper has Von Willebrand Disease.

When you get news like this.

You only hear the worst.

Except we hadn’t heard the worst.

Yet.

The doctor said that he has only seen one other patient like this in the last five years.

And that patient is now dead.

Those were his words.

Not mine.

Well maybe not the exact words.

But pretty damn close.

Dr. Tom had done surgery on Cooper a few weeks earlier.

And since that surgery, Cooper just hadn’t healed properly.

According to the doc, the fact he was still bleeding was a sure sign he had this disease I’d never heard of.

Von Willebrand disease.

It’s a bleeding disorder, according to webmd.com.

• When you have this disease, it takes longer for your blood to form clots and you bleed for a longer time than other people.

I asked if he knew about this before doing the operation.

That’s when he took off his doctor hat.

And put on his lawyer glasses.

“We did a coag test.”

“And everything was normal.”

Ok, so it was normal before you cut Cooper.

And abnormal after you cut him.

I’m no math major, but something wasn’t adding up.

The doctor apologized for not having the foresight to see this situation before doing the surgery.

The fact that he used the word “apologized”... more than once... really concerned me.

In my court of public opinion, that sounded like he was guilty.

Of what, I still wasn’t sure.

So I kept asking questions.

That’s journalism school paying off.

In the doctor’s words, “if Cooper gets a heavy laceration or gets hit by a car, he will bleed to death.”

Whoa.

I was writing as quickly as he was speaking.

Because I knew my wife would want every piece of information when she got home.

After all, Cooper is her baby.

Well her dad’s baby.

Now before you call the Maury Povich on us.

Cooper is a dog.

A purebred German Shepherd.

Born to a litter of 13 earlier this year.

A litter produced by my father-in-law.

We got Cooper as a present.

And after eight months, Cooper is 86 pounds.

And still growing.

But he is definitely a member of this family.

I have the vet bills to prove it.

A few weeks ago we listened to Bob Barker and got our new pet spayed.

Or neutered.

Or one of those.

Doctor Tom was hired to do this job.

But instead of getting fixed, something got broken.

The weird part was from the moment Cooper got home from surgery, he was himself.

Bumping into things.

Eating everything in sight.

Being a puppy.

Albeit, an 86-pound puppy.

His post-op R&R lasted about six minutes.

It wasn’t until a week later that he started dripping blood.

A slow drip.

One here.

One there.

For no apparent reason.

That’s when we got concerned.

That’s when we went back to Doctor Tom.

And that’s when he told us German Shepherds are #4 on the list of dogs most likely to get Von Willebrand’s disease.

Well that would’ve been nice to know before you cut our dog open.

But that was about all he had to add. 

So we did what everybody does in 2011 when you don’t know something.

We googled.

That’s where we found the symptoms for this Von Willebrand disease:

• Recurrent and prolonged nosebleeds
• Bleeding from the gums
• Blood in the stool or urine
• Excessive bleeding from a cut

Um -- no, no and no.

Bleeding?  Sorta.

Excessive?   Not a chance.

Yet another part of this formula that didn’t add up.

Over the next few weeks, we kept a close eye on Cooper.

And day-by-day, we saw... nothing.

No more blood.

From the nose.

From the gums.

From the wherever.

Well it turns out Cooper’s bleeding was a serious case of ... not resting and relaxing after getting fixed.

That’s it.

I’m not sure where this “Doctor” did all his research.

I’m not even sure where he got his license.

Costco?

But the bottom line is Cooper is fine.

And back to destroying our back yard.

Which is exactly what an 86-pound puppy should be doing.

United We Stand

I'm proud to be an American.

Just like Lee Greenwood.

I believe in life.

Liberty.

And the pursuit of happiness.

All three.

I love our country.

I relish our freedom.

And I support our President.

What a concept.

It doesn't matter who he is.

Or someday, who she is.

I think that many of us take for granted what we have here.

I know I do.

Today is Veterans Day.

A day to think about sacrifice.

For many, that sacrifice is the bank or post office being closed.

For others, the sacrifice is a lot more significant.

This is a day to honor the brave men and women who have fought for this country.

To celebrate the life.

And in many cases, the death.

Of the people who were willing to give up everything for the good of this land.

I wasn't one of those people.

I never enlisted.

Never really considered it.

I don't think that makes me wrong.

I don't think that makes me right.

But it was not for me.

My dad didn't really have a choice.

He was part of the Navy during WWII.

Stationed in Japan.

We never really talked much about it.

I wish we would've.

When I was really young, I do remember asking him what rank he was.

He told me Admiral.

I never questioned him.

Years later, I finally figured out that he was lying to me.

He did tell me that he wanted to be a fighter pilot.

But his eyesight stopped that from happening.

When he died a few years ago, I went rummaging through his old boxes.

And I found this letter.

A letter he wrote to his mom.

From Japan.

During the war.

It didn't really say much.

Other than hi.

How are you?

And say hello to Uncle Morris.

But in 1940 something, I'm sure that letter was worth a million bucks.

Thankfully these days, there are much better ways to communicate.

Like Skype.

This morning at my kids' school there was a Veterans Day assembly.

And at that assembly, the principal of the school brought his son.

From Afghanistan.

On Skype.

The picture wasn't great.

The sound wasn't great.

But the fact that there was a picture.

And sound.

At all.

Is truly unbelievable.

There must've been 500 people at this assembly.

Maybe more.

And the school did a very nice job of paying tribute.

It started with the old standards.

The presenting of the colors.

The pledge of allegiance.

The national anthem.

Then the heavy stuff kicked in.

One of the third graders was called to the front of the room.

She had prepared a speech.

A two-page speech.

To talk about what it was like for her dad to be gone.

For four months.

In Iraq.

She admitted that when she first heard he was going to Iraq.

She had no idea where that was.

She then told us how much she missed him while he was gone.

Missed reading with him.

And eating with him.

And talking with him.

And seeing him.

By this point, the assembly was being sponsored by Kleenex.

When she finished, her father was called to the stage.

In his uniform.

Then the mom.

Then her brother.

Feel free to call me soft.

A sap.

Whatever you want.

But I was in tears.

Just like the rest of the gymnasium.

The program ran almost 90 minutes.

Twice as long as expected.

But nobody was complaining.

Each class sang the theme song from a different branch of the military.

And of course there were speakers.

One gentleman – a Captain in the Marine Corps – prepared a slide show.

During that slide show he played an audio clip.

An audio clip from June of 1972.

The announcement was an official sounding voice saying that an American plane had been shot down over Vietnam.

And that there was no sign of the two on board.

He then passed along his condolences to the families of the pilots.

Thankfully there was one problem with that announcement.

And that problem was that one of the pilots was still alive.

Captured, but alive.

In fact, that pilot was standing right in front of us.

Speaking at our assembly.

He spoke about spending 290 days at the “Hanoi Hilton”.

Otherwise known as Hoa Lo Prison.

That's where many of the POWs spent time.

Including John McCain.

And another man he showed us a picture of.

A man who spent 3113 days at this Horrible Hilton.

He spoke of the conditions.

And the treatment.

And the torture.

I'm not really sure how much the students really understood.

Which might be a good thing.

But the fact that he made it through to the other side is what we were there to celebrate.

Unfortunately the same can't be said for his flying mate.

Still considered Missing in Action.

39 years later.

At the end of his speech, the Captain opened it up for questions.

From the far right a girl raised her hand.

And when she was called on she said:

“Did you know my daddy was born in 1973?”

The room laughed.

Cute.

I suppose.

But clearly these kids didn't get it.

Maybe that's not such a good thing.