Hemmingway Version of "The Imposter Syndrome"

Did you ever buy a car or a house only to lie awake nights wondering how you were going to pay for it? Or talk yourself into a situation and then immediately look for a way out? So have I.

The Imposter Syndrome

In 1981, after spending all of my adult life as an air traffic controller, I was fired for participating in a strike. Fortunately I had a degree in Business Management but zero job skills other than controlling air traffic. And the insurmountable problem with that was there was only one employer for air traffic controllers, the federal government, the very same government that had just sent me packing. It took about a year to realize that I was not going to be rehired and had best be about the business of making a living. During that first year I worked for a few weeks as a cab driver and for several months as a pest control technician. The one advantage of the pest control gig was the uniform I wore. Twas a red jump suit, that's right, a fat guy with a white beard wearing a red jump suit. Those were the times.

One day as I was walking through the Broward County Governmental Center in Fort Lauderdale I saw a job bulletin board. On the board was a listing for an entry level professional position as a Personnel Specialist. The job was in the Human Resources Department. The person selected would work in the recruitment and training division. The qualifications required a four year degree, experience as a trainer and a written test. Hmmm. let's see, I had worked in the training department for the Federal Aviation Administration, I had a degree, I have always done well on tests and best of all, if selected, goodbye red jump suit.

I applied, submitted my resume, took the test and miracle of miracles was selected.
(Unabashed bragging here folks, one hundred and thirty seven took the written test, most with degrees in human resources, guess who finished first?) Anyhow, back to my tale. After being hired, I worked for Broward County as a training specialist for a while, then became a recruiter and ended up three years later as the Broward County Training Officer. As such, I made a about half what I had previously made as an air traffic controller, but hey, no red suit. After about three and a half years with Broward County I was solicited for the position of Deputy Personnel Director for the City of Pompano Beach, Florida. One year earlier my former supervisor at the county had been selected for the position of Personnel Director in Pompano Beach. Shortly after being hired, her Deputy resigned and she advertised the position. She had asked that I look at the applications and tell her who I thought the three finalists should be. (I had not applied) I reviewed their qualifications and ranked the applicants. She and I had lunch to discuss her selection. In the course of our discussion she asked what I thought what was the most important quality in a deputy director. I replied, "personal loyalty" not to the City, not to the organization, but to the person who hires you. We ended our lunch and she set up interviews for her finalists. Somewhere around three weeks later she called me and said, "Larry, I want you to be my Deputy Director." Up until Janice Adams, the Pompano Beach Personnel Director, said those words I had given zero thought to leaving my job with Broward County. I was paid fairly well, didn't do a hell of a lot and was located just a few blocks from Ft. Lauderdale Beach where I spent my lunch hours looking at the...uhh..."scenery." As I recall our conversation, there was a lengthy pause and then I told Janice I would think about it. Broward County had 5,000 employees, Pompano Beach had approximately 900, so I was not sure the job was a step up. More importantly, Pompano Beach was a notoriously politically unstable city. Department heads served at the pleasure of the City Council and City Manager. One local election could change the whole landscape and endanger a lot of jobs. After wearing that damned red jump suit, I did not want to be fired again. I talked with a lot of folks in my field for advice. The Broward County Personnel Director was the most persuasive, he said I had to take the job if I ever wanted to progress in human resources, I was not at all sure that I wanted to move up the career ladder but I could not tell him that, so with a great deal of trepidation, I accepted the job and went to Pompano Beach.

The City had active, and somewhat militant, unions in both their Fire and Police departments. The Public Works Division had a separate and somewhat more passive union. I am not sure how I got so involved in grievances, appeals and equal employment opportunity issues, but I did. Maybe it was because of my background as a union representative or that the Personnel Director knew that I would not "give away the farm" during collective bargaining negotiations. I learned a great deal in Pompano Beach about local governments and even more about elected officials. My four years in Pompano Beach constituted an invaluable seminar in the world of civic activists and public management. Ahh yes, City Council meetings than ran into the early morning hours while we debated whether or not senior citizens feeding ducks and the subsequent waste byproducts constituted a health hazard. One constituency screaming "duck killers" while the other side shouted back "duck dung lovers." What great memories!

After four years in Pompano Beach I was leafing through a publication of the International Personnel Management Association and saw a job advertised for a Management Services Director for the city of Miami Beach, Florida. I read over the qualifications and thought I might be minimally eligible. More importantly, I had been interviewing job applicants for a little over seven years or so but I had not been interviewed. I thought it may help to improve my own skills by sitting across the desk and answering questions instead of asking them. Not really knowing if I would rank high enough to qualify for an interview, I submitted my resume. Weeks passed and I heard nothing, I had actually forgotten about the job when I received a call from their City Manager's secretary to schedule an interview. I learned there were seven finalists and all would be interviewed by a panel consisting of the City Manager, City Attorney and the Police Chief. On the agreed upon date, I jumped into my car and headed south down I-95.

After reporting in and going up to the waiting room, I nervously looked around. There were a couple of other folks in the room all waiting their turn to interview. man, did these guys look good. Tailored suits, razor cut hair, wing tipped shoes shined to a high gloss, these people looked like human resource professionals. Me? I was hoping my tie was straight and that both shoes were the same color. Immediately I thought, why in hell am I here? what was I thinking about? I wonder if I could still get my red jump suit back. OK, OK I didn't wish I could get the red suit back. But, I did have a feeling of being completely out of place and completely out-classed by my competition. The interview itself was a blur. Like all structured interviews, I was asked "probing" questions designed to give the interview panel some insight into my background and an idea of how I would function as a department director. I finished the interview and drove back north on I-95 with a sense of relief. I had not embarrassed myself too badly, didn't think I had stammered too much and I knew, given the competition, I had absolutely no chance for the job. A week later, the City Manager, Michael Roberto, called and offered me the job.

To say I was astounded did not begin to describe my surprise. initially, I assumed he had confused me with one of the other finalists but he assured me I was the unanimous choice of the interview panel. he said they were all impressed with my willingness to make quick decisions and give unequivocal answers. I recalled the old rule of air traffic control, "you may be wrong, however always answer immediately and never, ever sound uncertain." I was completely taken aback to learn the panel had actually thought I knew what I was talking about. He closed the conversation by asking me to lunch to discuss salary, benefits and when I could report. After agreeing to meet within a few days, I hung up the phone, turned around in my chair, looked out my office window and thought, "What in hell have I done?"

Mike and I had lunch at a local eatery on the Inter-Coastal Waterway, as we ate he told me what my salary would be and in truth, it was not more than I was making. I was somewhat relieved because I could easily turn down such a modest increase, remain in Pompano, and tell myself I was waiting for a better opportunity. Then he explained the leave policy for department heads. I would receive ten (10) weeks of vacation each year. I said. "Mike how in hell can I take ten weeks off?" He replied, "you can't." He explained that just one week before the end of the year he would buy the leave back, dollar for dollar, and then, on the second day of January he would award me ten more weeks of annual leave. So, if I took two weeks vacation each year, I could still cash in an additional eight weeks of leave at my full salary. He used this methodology so that the listed salaries of city executives did not appear to be out of line. Michael Roberto was an innovative and audacious city manager. I accepted the job and agreed to report in three weeks.

Immediately, I went full blown into "buyer's remorse." Me, a human resources director? who was I kidding? I was a career civil service person, for most of my life I had been devoted to fooling people into thinking I knew what I was doing. Now, everyone else was happy for me, the folks I worked with in Pompano Beach told me how great it was that I got the job, my wife told all of her friends that I was going to be a department head and all the while I thought, what in hell have I done?

One day while still in Pompano, my new City Manager's secretary called and told me that Mike wanted me to go and pick out my office furniture. Pick out office furniture? I did not know a credenza from a hat rack. The secretary explained that I was moving into a new office and Mike thought I should have whatever I wanted. She said get a great chair and some nice pictures. Nice pictures? All I had on my office walls were Gator football pictures. But, my wife said she would go with me, so catalog in hand, we spent the city's money on new furniture and wall decorations.

The Monday morning that I reported for duty I was as scared as I have ever been in my life. I was now the "Director of Management Services." Reporting to me were the Risk Management Division, the Purchasing Division, Communications and of course, Human Resources. I would be the "City Manager's Designee." As such I had final authority in all matters of hiring, firing and resolving grievances. There is one thing about being a "Deputy" or "Assistant" anything: You never have the last word, there is always someone else ultimately responsible for what happens. It is reassuring to know no matter how radical your solution, your boss has veto power, and if it turns out wrong, well they signed the order. Now I would be the one making the decision and signing the order. I did not feel even remotely qualified, I felt exactly like someone pretending to be what I knew I was not.

I vividly remember, sitting in my new office, at my new desk, in my new chair and thinking all of those people sitting in that large room just outside my door think I have a clue. I thought it would take about a week for them to figure out that nothing could be further from the truth. I wondered if that pest control company still had my red jump suit, I thought I might need it soon.

Over the next few years I was selected for several more jobs, each with increasing responsibilities, but never did I forget the loneliness of that first day or the absolute certainty someone was going to come into my office and ask what in hell I was doing there. I would have had no answer other than to say, a few weeks ago I answered this ad...and everything is fuzzy after that.

OK, Ok, I am leaving. Hey, could ya make that red suit an extra, extra large?

Money and Medicine

As most of you know, my politics tend to be a bit right of center. That is on most things, on others I may be more like Che Guevara. Some parts of the damned system are fatally broke, and like Che, I am ready to blow parts of it up. My health insurance is Blue Cross/Blue Shield Federal. It is as good as medical insurance gets and contrary to all the BS in the newspapers, it is not free for federal retirees. It costs me over four hundred dollars each month. I also have Medicare so one would think, that insurance wise at least, I am in good shape.

On August 17, 2009, I started having chest pains. Nine years ago I had a six way bypass, so any chest pain gets my undivided attention. I was driven to the North Florida Medical Center. I was there for less than sixteen hours. Thankfully, the medical staff determined that my pain was not cardiac related. I was not admitted to the hospital, had no invasive testing, no catherization lab, not even an MRI. Yet, my total hospital bill came to just over twenty two thousand dollars, ($22,000.00).
Thus far my out of pocket expenses have exceeded two thousand dollars.

Before going to the emergency room, I checked to see which hospital was covered by my insurance carrier. North Florida Medical Center was where I was directed to go. However, purely by chance, the emergency Room Physician on duty, was not a participating doctor. The guy on duty was Vietnamese, his English was heavily accented but from the part I understood, he seemed to be a pleasant man and a competent medical professional. He was with me for about ten minutes. Yesterday, I received a separate bill for his ten minutes of attention. In very clear English, the bill asked that I remit an additional $567.00. He had billed Blue Cross and they refused to pay. When I asked Blue Cross why they did not pay the bill they said, "Sorry but that particular doctor is not in our plan." I asked how in hell can a person know who might be on duty at any hospital on any given shift? Their response amounted to this, "Too bad chump, not a participant, payment responsibility is yours and yours alone." Damn, Damn, Damn! and double damn!

Listen, I do not want the government running our country's health care system. I have been in the military and I have also been to a V.A. facility, I know first hand what government ran medical care is, and trust me, it is not good. But, how in hell can any company of conscience charge more than twenty four thousand dollars for a hospital visit of sixteen hours? Think about it, I could have flown by private jet to the Mayo Clinic, stayed at the Four Seasons Hotel and saw a world renown cardiac specialist for less than half what I was charged.

In my opinion, the medical profession in general, and the insurance industry in particular, is driving this country to the edge of socialized medicine. Their current practices and charges are not just wrong, they are obscene.

Reality in a microsecond

Back in 1969, when I was just twenty six years old, I lived in a small village on the Alaskan Aleutian Chain. The village was aptly named Cold Bay. There were less than two hundred souls sharing our lonely outpost on that barren, windswept location between the Bering Sea and Northern Pacific Ocean. There was little to do, no movies, no television, sometimes Armed Forces Radio signals would reach us and we would catch up on week old news from the "Lower 48." The most popular recreational activity was drinking at our one bar ran by Flying Tiger Airlines. Cold bay was an important link in the airways system linking America to the Far East, particularly Vietnam and Japan. The Vietnam war was hot, and Cold bay had an instrument landing system and a ten thousand foot runway where transport and troop carrier aircraft could land and refuel on their way to and from Japan and/or Vietnam. Flying Tiger had several valuable contracts with the military so they had about forty maintenance and other technical personnel on site. I was there to do my part in the air traffic operation, although I think I believed my primary role to be to reduce any surplus of beer thereby preventing my fellow workers from drinking too much.

My most poignant memory of Cold bay began one evening in the Flying Tiger Bar. We had been having a going away party from someone who was returning to "The World" (anyplace not on the Aleutians) and leaving our happy band of misfits, refugees and never-do-wells. If I remember correctly it was mid March and as such the temperature would have been around zero with about a forty knot wind, I clearly remember everything being covered in snow. That doesn't mean it was snowing, in Cold Bay the wind was fierce and constant and continually moved the snow from place to place. We often awoke to find clear sky's but have eight foot drifts burying every vehicle on the station. This was one of those typical nights, wind squalls and a bone chilling wet cold.

Inside the bar all was well with the world. The young man leaving us was Jim Chivonney, a really good guy. He was a communications tech in his mid-twenties. Back in Ohio he had a young wife and a six month old child he had never seen. The next day he was to board the "Freedom Bird" and fly back to his family and to civilization. The bar tender was a Filipino fellow named Agrapino Lopez, we called him "A.G." A.G. was also a good guy, friendly, out going and with a smile for everyone, but more importantly, he served a hell of a drink. A.G. was a jet mechanic by day, but moonlighted for his employer, Flying Tiger, as our village bartender. As the celebration went on, Jim and A.G. begin to argue about something, I have no idea what, but I seem to think it was boxing. Each was ridiculing the other about their choice of who would win a hypothetical match between two fighters from different eras. In other words, it was a typical, nonsensical bar room argument that could never be settled. The two guys had been drinking together for over a year, fished together and had never had any animosity between them so everyone assumed it was just another drunken disagreement between friends.

Sometime around nine o'clock in the evening my wife and I decided to leave the party. We had came with another couple and they drove a Volkswagen Beetle. I had opened the door of the car and pushed the front seat back when I heard the deafening roar of a gunshot from about six feet behind me. A.G. had came out of the bar with a Ruger 357 magnum pistol, in a Crown Royal Whiskey bag, and shot Jim Chivonney in the chest. Jim was dead when his body hit the snow.

Last night, January 11, 2009, a young girl that worked at a bar I frequent, "Gator Tales," was shot dead. Her name was Stacey Brown, she was twenty years old and would have started to college the next day. Stacey had went to visit a friend, apparently a couple of animals posing as human beings, tried a home invasion robbery. Their take? sixty two dollars. And for that amount of money a young girl was murdered. Hell, She had never even had enough time to start to live. In a micro-second her life ended and for everyone that knew her, their life has also changed in ways they do not yet realize. Senseless, sudden death is incomprehensible. There is no answer to why? There is no way to change what happened. No amount of if's, could haves, or should haves, can alter or change the finality of a gun shot.

I hardly knew Stacy, she was a waitress, and sometimes a bartender in my favorite pub. In truth, I did not know Jim Chivonney that well. Although he worked in Cold Bay as I did, it was an insular world. Even in that smallest of small towns, Air Traffic folks lived in their own world and Flying Tiger personnel in another. These two tragedies are separated by almost forty years and I am far from the person I was then but the finality of it all is the same. Last night I saw the same looks of incomprehension that we all had in Cold Bay four decades ago. If I have learned one thing from these and other life lessons it it this; We control almost nothing, we have the present and not one micro-second more.

One of a Kind

While we were in New Orleans for the Sugar Bowl game between the Florida Gators and Cincinnati Bearcats, we saw an artist painting a portrait of Tim Tebow. The other subjects on display were Marilyn Monroe, Barack Obama, and Jesus. We commented on the elite company that the artist was placing Tebow in. The story below is written by a fellow that writes for the Knoxville newspaper. He says a lot about Tim that I agree with, and he tells it a lot better than I could. Enjoy, Larry

Clay Travis
Clay Travis is a college football Writer.

NEW ORLEANS -- On Friday afternoon, the first day of 2010, an artist named JT Maurer sits alongside Jackson Square in New Orleans's French Quarter. The skies are overcast. Sunlight occasionally spirals down on the milling tourists, illuminating the old gray stone sidewalk. Throngs of Florida and Cincinnati fans, in their requisite blue and red, swarm the old city. On the black iron bars that surround Jackson Square park, Maurer has placed his black charcoal paintings of famous figures for sale.

On the top row, from left to right, rest the following: Barack Obama, Tim Tebow, Jesus.

As the sun begins to decline over across the muddy Mississippi, and night comes on, Tim Tebow's college career still has 60 minutes left, a Sugar Bowl tilt against the Cincinnati Bearcats.

I ask Maurer how the $50 Tim Tebow paintings had been selling.

"Not that well," he says. "I haven't sold one yet. Most people are focused on drinking and they don't want to carry around a painting. Lots of people have stopped and looked, though. I think the Gators are upset about being here."

The only other football figure for sale is legendary Alabama coach Bear Bryant.

"To tell you the truth," says Maurer, "I was kind of hoping Alabama was going to be here again. I was expecting it. Last year, I sold 11 Bear Bryant's to Alabama fans."

My wife stands alongside me. She speaks before I even say anything. "You are not," she says, "buying a picture of Tim Tebow."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let me be clear, I love Tim Tebow because he is the most authentic figure in sports today. Maybe, in all of American public society. Too often our sports heroes like Tiger Woods or Mark McGwire are steeped in artificiality. The same is true of our political figures, our religious leaders, virtually everyone in the public arena today is selling us something that has nothing to do with reality. In an age when we crave authenticity more than any other trait, when our television shows seek to capture reality and when players, coaches, and everyone associated with them sells an artificial image of themselves, I love that Tebow is refreshingly honest, direct, disarming, a man in full.

I don't want to be sold a false image anymore.

And, what's more, I don't want a player to do or say something because he thinks I want to hear that. We've reached an era where player and coach answers are so cliched, they don't even realize that they're spouting cliches anymore. We've all seen athletes and coaches interviewed on television so many times that we know what's coming before it's even said; our athletes are all playing roles.

Tebow isn't playing a role.

Because his role isn't to be cool, or to be calculated, or to do anything like that, it's to be as real as real can be.

That's why no matter how many times Tim Tebow scored touchdowns against my team, no matter how many times he triumphed over other teams that I was rooting for, I don't want to see Tim Tebow leave college football.

Watching him play is too much fun.
Follow Us on Twitter Friend Us on Facebook

As the Gators took the field on New Year's night 2010, come along for an italicized recap of the game interspersed with a retrospective of Tebow's career.

Call it Tebowiana.

1. Do you remember when we all watched Tebow play in the MTV reality show, Two-a-Days?

He was a top recruit then, a home-schooled lefty with a rocket arm. His team lost to Alabama's Hoover High School and a few months later Tebow spurned Mike Shula to join Urban Meyer's first full recruiting class.

Imagine how much the world of college football changes if Tebow picks Shula and Alabama. Is Shula still at Alabama?

Probably.

Forget two national titles, has Urban Meyer won a single national title at Florida?

Probably not.

The fine fault line between success and failure is exposed in that decision, the moment when Tebow first became a star.

Recall the Two-a-Days television conversation.

"Is he good?" a Hoover cheerleader asked.

"Yeah," the Hoover player said, "he's real good."

Indeed.

Kickoff arrives in New Orleans.

One play after Jeff Demps is carried off the field -- Cincinnati fans in front of me are chanting, "See you later, alligator" --Tebow hits Aaron Hernandez with the 19th touchdown pass of the season, and the 86th of this career.

Tebow is 7-for-7 on the first Gator drive.

2. Tebow and Verne Lundquist first became an item on a September night in Knoxville. A then-freshman Tebow came in for a fourth down conversion against the Vols.

The Gators trailed 20-14 in the fourth quarter. Tebow lined up under center.

Shotgun.

I was watching from a sports bar in Auburn, Ala., having just watched Auburn beat LSU 7-3.

"Are they really running him out of the shotgun?" my friend asked.

Yep, they were.

Tebow converted and celebrated on the field.

The Gators won 21-20.

Lose this game and not only do the Gators not play Ohio State for a national title, but they don't even win the SEC East.

On the second drive, Tebow uncorks an NFL-caliber pass down the seam. It's one of three more completions that Tebow has to begin 10-for-10 and give the Gators a 9-0 lead.

3. Then, later that freshman season, came the jump pass against LSU.

I was in Athens, Ga., getting ready for the night game between Georgia and Tennessee. The only thing that united Bulldog and Vol fans was rooting against SEC East foe Florida.

As Tebow threw his jump pass for a touchdown, the tailgate reaction was stunned silence.

Eventually, a Bulldog fan grabbed my arm. "Before he is done at Florida," said the Dawg, "Tim Tebow is going to be more hated in college football than Shane Battier."


Latest College Football PhotosAP500 photos Florida quarterback Tim Tebow celebrates with Boomer Hornbeck, 8, after a 55-24 win over Cincinnati in the Sugar Bowl NCAA college football game in New Orleans, Friday, Jan. 1, 2010. (AP Photo/Patrick Semansky)(Note: Please disable your pop-up blocker)http://xml.channel.aol.com/xmlpublisher/fetch.v2.xml?option=expand_relative_urls&dataUrlNodes=uiConfig,feedConfig,localizationConfig,entry&id=797850&pid=797849&uts=1262415814
http://www.aolcdn.com/ke/media_gallery/v1/ke_media_gallery_wrapper.swf
Latest College Football Photos
Florida quarterback Tim Tebow celebrates with Boomer Hornbeck, 8, after a 55-24 win over Cincinnati in the Sugar Bowl NCAA college football game in New Orleans, Friday, Jan. 1, 2010. (AP Photo/Patrick Semansky)
AP
FR158704
College Football Photos
NEW YORK - DECEMBER 12: Running back Mark Ingram #22 of the Alabama Crimson Tide speaks after being named the 75th Heisman Trophy winner at the Nokia theater Times Square on December 12, 2009 in New York City. (Photo by Getty Images/Getty Images) *** Local Caption *** Mark Ingram

Getty Images

A Navy midshipman yawns while in formation before an NCAA college football game between Army and Navy, Saturday, Dec. 12, 2009, in Philadelphia. (AP Photo/Matt Slocum)

AP

In this photo taken on Thursday, Dec. 10, 2009, Heisman Trophy finalists from left, Stanford running back Toby Gerhart, Florida quarterback Tim Tebow, Alabama running back Mark Ingram, Texas quarterback Colt McCoy and Nebraska defensive lineman Ndamukong Suh gather for a photo at the Home Depot ESPNU College Football Awards in Lake Buena Vista , Fla. (AP Photo/John Raoux)

AP

Army players react after losing 17-3 to Navy in a college football game in Philadelphia, on Saturday, Dec. 12, 2009. (AP Photo/Matt Rourke)

AP

Appalachian State quarterback Armanti Edwards (14) scrambles during the last series of the game, trying to find an open receiver, as Montana defensive end George Mercer(92) tries to wrap him up during the fourth quarter of an NCAA college football Division 1 playoff game in Missoula, Mont., on Saturday, Dec. 12, 2009. (AP Photo/Mike Albans)

AP

Montana quarterback Andrew Selle (12) celebrates win over Appalachian State after the game to advance to the championship next week in an NCAA college football Division 1 playoff game in Missoula, Mont., on Saturday, Dec. 12, 2009. (AP Photo/Mike Albans)

AP

Montana wide receiver Jabin Sambrano (16) catches the winning touchdown pass late in the fourth quarter against Appalachian State defensive back Ed Gainey (28) in an NCAA college football Division 1 playoff game in Missoula, Mont., on Saturday, Dec. 12, 2009. (AP Photo/Mike Albans)

AP

Montana wide receiver Marc Mariani (80) leads the cheers as Montana defeats Appalachian State 24-17 to advance to the championship game next week in Tennessee, after an NCAA college football Division 1 playoff game in Missoula, Mont., on Saturday, Dec. 12, 2009. (AP Photo/Mike Albans)

AP

Appalachian State quarterback Armanti Edwards (14) scrambles during the last series of the game, trying to find an open receiver, as Montana defensive end George Mercer(92) tries to wrap him up during the fourth quarter of an NCAA college football Division 1 playoff game in Missoula, Mont., on Saturday, Dec. 12, 2009. (AP Photo/Mike Albans)

AP

Montana quarterback Andrew Selle (12) celebrates win over Appalachian State after the game to advance to the championship next week in an NCAA college football Division 1 playoff game in Missoula, Mont., on Saturday, Dec. 12, 2009. (AP Photo/Mike Albans)

AP
In my column that debuted the term Tebow'd in October of 2006, I even wrote: "Here's a ClayNation prediction for you: By the time he's a senior [if he stays until he's a senior], Tebow is going to make J.J. Redick seem downright lovable in comparison."

But that never happened.

In fact, it never came close to happening.

Of course I also wrote then, "Urban Meyer has forbidden Tim Tebow from ever flexing both his biceps at the same time. The last time Tebow flexed, every coeds' top at the University of Florida miraculously rose at the exact same time. This caused two plane crashes, 96 fender benders and all classes were canceled at the university."

What I should have written was this, "When Tebow flexed, every coeds' top at the University of Florida miraculously rose at the exact same time ... and Tebow covered his eyes."

On the third drive, Tebow runs his streak of complete passes to 12, converts a fourth down on a shotgun draw, and tosses a perfect touchdown pass to Deonte Thompson. He's now 14-of-15 for 168 yards and two touchdowns.

4. Tebow converts on fourth down at The Swamp during Florida's 17-16 victory over South Carolina, and then heads out to The Swamp, the restaurant on University Avenue in Gainesville, for a postgame meal.

People forget once more what might have been. Lose that game against the Gamecocks and Meyer is 0-2 against Steve Spurrier.

Uneasy would lie the headset on the coaching crown.

Instead Tebow carries the Gators to victory.

That night, Tebow goes out for a post-midnight meal. Word spreads that Tebow is in The Swamp Restaurant and gives me the first indication of what it would have been like to see Elvis in his prime.

Tebow is in the building!

There's a rush to the second floor where an 19-year-old is having a meal. Or trying to have a meal. He's swarmed.

Just three months after turning 19, Tebow, wearing an oversized white shirt and jeans, is already a star.

Still more, Tebow leads the Gators to a fourth consecutive scoring drive and with seven minutes remaining the Gators are up 23-0.

Tebow's eye black? Ephesians 2:8-10

8For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:

9Not of works, lest any man should boast.

10For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.

5. Being e-mailed 14-million different attachments featuring Tebow wearing jorts.

It didn't matter that the picture was fake, it was everywhere.

Barry Bonds once said: If 70,000 people are willing to boo you, you must be good. Now it's time for the Tebow addendum, "If every Southern football fan has seen you photoshopped in jean shorts, you must be pretty good too."

On their fifth possession of the half Tebow hits Riley Cooper for an 80-yard touchdown. Did you know that they are roommates? I'm told that Thom Brennanman shared the most overtold stat immediately on the Fox broadcast.

Somewhere Verne Lundquist chortled.

6. The next year, in early September, Tim Tebow was stopped by Ole Miss on a fourth down sneak and the Rebels stunned the Gators 31-30.

Lots of attention has come from the "promise speech" that Tebow made after the loss. That's always been secondary to me. Because I was more interested in the response across the SEC.

No one could believe that Tebow had been stopped on fourth-and-short.

What's more, the failure offered a more interesting narrative, a player challenged as opposed to a player who was always dominant. In responding to defeat, Tebow became more interesting than he ever was in victory.

Tebow goes over 300 yards passing, 320 to be exact, with three touchdowns and 28 yards rushing tossed in for good measure.

At the half.

If Florida leaves him in for the entire game, he'll pass for 500 yards.

7. The circumcision of Filipino boys is something only Tebow could pull off.

Yeah, it's absurd and funny. And something that you and I wouldn't do.

No matter what.

Why?

Because even if it's beneficial to someone, you and I aren't touching Filipino foreskin because we would get killed for it by friends.

Question: "Where'd Clay go on his vacation this year?"

Answer: "Oh, you know, he went and circumcised Filipino boys again."

Result: For the rest of my life I hear about this after any friend has more than a beer.

But Tebow?

He makes circumcising Filipino boys cool.

Okay, maybe even Tebow can't pull that off.

At the half Cincinnati has 55 total yards on 28 plays. Tebow has 348 total yards on just 31 plays.

Also at the half Ephesians 2: 8 10, what Tebow is wearing on his eyeblack, is the No. 2 search result on Google hot trends.

What's No. 1?

Tebow cam.

8. Yeah, I asked Tebow if he was saving himself for marriage.

And all his answer did was burnish the mythological and otherworldly image of Tebow. But what it also did, was provide still further evidence that Tebow was refreshingly honest, someone who was willing to live his faith and continue to propound that faith even when it might not be cool.

I'll be honest, if I'd have to choose between being an SEC quarterback on the field, or an SEC quarterback off the field, I'm picking off the field. And you'll know exactly what I've meant if you've ever spent any time on SEC campuses.

In my experience, some of the biggest hypocrites on earth are those who profess themselves religious and evangelize for their faiths.

But Tebow's different.

How different?

My mom e-mails me the Bible verses he puts on his eyeblack.

On the first drive of the second half, Tebow runs his tally up to 366 yards passing and, on fourth down, after drawing the defense tosses a pitch to Emmanuel Moody to put the Gators up 37-3 and end all talk of the Big East being in the BCS title game in the foreseeable future.

Amazingly, Cincinnati was one second being put back on the clock from playing Alabama for the national title.

9. His lack of fear in returning when only a perfect 14-0 season and a championship could sate Gator fans.

Think about this for a moment, the Gators went 12-0 in the regular season and lost a single game, the SEC title. Tebow had a chance to become the greatest college football player ever, but he'd set the bar so high for himself that anything less than absolute perfection disappointed us.

And because he didn't achieve perfection, we devalued him.

Think about this for a moment, if Tebow leaves early, is drafted somewhere and heads to the NFL, do we rank him higher as an all-time player?

I think so.

Why?

Because Tebow occupies such a high perch in our estimation that we would have given him a perfect season and a national title by default.

We really would have.

And, by the way, if you don't favor a playoff then you're a damn fool. Having Tebow end his career in the Sugar Bowl, a game that is virtually meaningless, against an awfully matched team is a complete anti-climax. It doesn't do justice to Tebow's career.

Tebow is now 28-of-31 for 435 yards passing. As if that weren't enough, he scores on a four-yard run to make his tally 471 total yards rushing and passing. That 471 yards is the most by any player in BCS history.

Prior record holder, Vince Young put up 467 against USC in the title game.

What's most amazing about Tebow's yardage?

There's still 2:40 left in the third quarter.

10. Crying at the end of the Alabama game in the SEC Championship.

If any other player on a team cried after a loss, I'd mock them to no end. I might even write an entire column about it.

But somehow this was the perfect ending for Tebow's SEC career.

Why?

Because Tebow cried even though Alabama fans cheered his crying. He's so honest with us, that when his team lost, he didn't even think about the joby he might be providing to Alabama fans via crying. Nope, he just reacted as he saw fit.

And Tebow wept.

On the final complete drive of his college career, Tebow runs his total yardage stats into the stratosphere: 31-of-35 passing for 482 yards and 14 rushes for 51 yards. Add it all up and that's 533 total yards in a BCS game, a record that might stand for decades.

With 3:13 remaining in the game, Tim Tebow leaves the field for the final time of his football career. The crowd, mostly Gator fans, chants,"Thank you, Tebow," Tebow raises his hands in acknowledgment, and one of the greatest careers in college fooball history is over.

But not quite yet, as the witching hour comes to New Orleans, Tim Tebow doesn't want to leave the field just yet. He sprints to midfield, in front of the few fans remaining, and runs a semi-circle around the Superdome field, slapping hands with Gator fans.

Until, at long last, Tim Tebow leaves the building.

"It was better than a dream," Tebow says later.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For four years, Tim Tebow wasn't better than us, he was honest with us.

And that's why when I show up back in Nashville, I'm going to be carrying a Tim Tebow painting that spent Sugar Bowl week resting on the fence outside Jackson Square.

OK, not really.

But a Tennessee fan even thinking about it, says all you need to know about Tebow's career at Florida.

Our Journey

I walked a mile with Pleasure,
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And ne're a word said she;
But, Oh! The things I learned from her,
When Sorrow walked with me.

ROBERT BROWNING HAMILTON

Some Times You Lose

This past Saturday I remembered what losing feels like and it ain't good. For twenty two straight football games other fans have left football games against the Gators with the same feelings I had Saturday night. Truthfully, I never once put myself in their shoes, I liked winning and most of all I enjoyed being smug about it. I had comforted myself with the certainty that if and when we lost it would be a close game and probably we would lose on a bad call by the referees. Didn't happen that way, not even close. We got our butts handed to us. In Vegas I have always felt sorry for gamblers, I mean don't they know that all of those beautiful casinos and astronomical salaries paid to performers are not financed by people beating the house? I mean, come on how dumb can you be? But, when it comes to the University of Florida football team, I thought they might never lose. How dumb can can I be? Pretty damned dumb.

Two national championship in football and two national championships in basketball, all within in five years. So cheer up, the sun rose this morning and you know what, the sun was still orange and the sky was still blue. Go Gators!