So that’s it, then. Tim Tebow is a New York Jet, traded for a couple of measly draft picks and the patience and dignity of a city’s worth of football fans—a group of which I counted myself as a member until about two hours ago. The Jets will want to work the Bible-verse-belting “quarterback”—I use quotation marks because there are small children who currently throw the ball more accurately than he—into a wildcat system, the kind of amateurish nonstarter of a strategy Jets fans should be used to by now. Yes, I oppose this trade as a guy who thought he loved a sports team, but I also have a much greater reason for opposing this trade.
If we do nothing, if we stand idly by and watch the media dust bowl that envelops this story, it could grow so large it blacks out the sun. This is not just another big media story—it’s the big one, the Bad News Bears on a coke and ‘roid rage. Tebow cannot be allowed to suit up for the bad-boy New York Jets because we will never hear the end of it ever. E v e r . There’s only one thing to do: STOP FOOTBALL.