“He’s a winner.”
For many fans, that is the trump card in any discussion about N.F.L. quarterbacks, the kill shot that negates contrary arguments based on statistics, scouting reports or other empirical evidence. “So what if he generated only 225 yards of offense, scored just 10 points, and needs the entire playbook turned inside out to achieve even minimal success. He’s a winner. Case closed.”
The “he’s a winner” mantle is not new. It has been passed around for decades, from young quarterbacks to career backups on hot streaks. Now that Tim Tebow is wearing it, however, it has attained an almost hypnotic ability to overwhelm reason. The conscious mind cannot reconcile his 4-1 record as quarterback of the Broncos with his ineptitude as a passer, so the mind snaps and creates a narrative in which scoring 27 offensive points in two weeks is somehow a hallmark of excellence.
Tebow appears to be redefining the quarterback position in a way that renders passing, regularly sustaining drives and consistently scoring points irrelevant. He runs keepers and read-option plays. He hands off. He throws the occasional screen pass, often for minimal gain, and sometimes looks downfield in confusion before galloping out of the pocket. The Broncos shrug their shoulders and punt on most drives, typically trail at halftime, and remain in games only because their defense manages to hold opposing offenses well below 20 points.
Nothing that happens in a Broncos game is relevant until the fourth-quarter magic, some of which tangentially involves Tebow’s doing something good. Against the Dolphins, the Broncos recovered an onside kick, then an overtime fumble, then kicked a 52-yard field goal. The victory over the Raiders featured a punt return for a score and a 24-yard touchdown by running back Willis McGahee. The Chiefs game featured one long pass in the fourth quarter (Tebow’s second completion of the game) and an injury to Matt Cassel, which eliminated the threat of a Kansas City comeback. Denver’s final 95-yard drive against the Jets started with a receiver wriggling out of a tackle at his own 1. Tebow metes out two or three fine plays during these late victories, but they are the types of plays a good quarterback should routinely execute.
The Broncos’ victories are the obvious result of a great defense playing some terrible teams (Chiefs, Dolphins) or unprepared opponents (Jets, Raiders). But that is not how they are perceived. Instead, the familiar platitudes are marshaled.
“He makes plays when he has to,” except that in the N.F.L. you always have to, not just when there are 5 minutes 54 seconds to play. “He’s an incredible competitor,” but with the exception of Albert Haynesworth everyone who reaches the N.F.L. is an incredible competitor. Even if Tebow’s competitiveness goes up to 11 like Nigel Tufnel’s amplifier, it is minor compensation for the fact that even his own coach has said the Broncos cannot really throw the ball and hope to win. And of course, “he’s a winner,” which is solipsistic and inarguable.
Thursday was an ugly night for the Broncos’ offense. Denver converted exactly one first down before the final drive. Five times, the Broncos started drives in Jets territory, yet they entered the fourth quarter with 3 offensive points. Eight of the Broncos’ 12 possessions consisted of three or fewer plays. The Jets, meanwhile, could do nothing offensively, which is why they kept handing Tebow the ball around midfield. The question at the end of the game should not have been, “How did Tebow do it?” but “Why on earth did he have to?”
Watching Tebow play quarterback is like watching a television psychic perform a cold reading. He flails about, trying this strategy and that, looking lost and a little silly. Then suddenly, someone shouts, “That voice from the spirit world you are hearing whose first name begins with a J is my great-uncle Jasper!” Everyone gasps in awe and cheers wildly as Jasper delivers his otherworldly message of vagueness, and any skeptic who dares to point out the absurdity of it all is branded a hateful killjoy.
But quarterbacks with the “winner” label always cause headaches for the rational people among us. Fans eager to embrace a new hero apply the post hoc fallacy: the team won, therefore the quarterback must have done something wonderful. They mix in a little confirmation bias: those three good plays are a sign of greatness, so we can ignore the 53 bad ones. Communal reinforcement — even the guys on the talk radio show agree! — serves as a chaser. There is nothing wrong with any of this because fandom is about hope and emotional connections to players and teams, not rational thought. But to cut through the rhetoric and analyze and evaluate these quarterbacks, you are better off consulting the noted skeptics James Randi and Michael Shermer than the gang at ESPN.
If you need further proof that Tebow mania is just a new face on an old phenomenon, simply look at the quarterback who lost Thursday night’s game. Mark Sanchez was a “winner,” too, as recently as last year.
Remember the come-from-behind victories against the Lions and the Browns? The Sanchez bandwagon was in third gear after those games, explaining away three-plus quarters of inaccuracy and mediocrity. Many of the same experts who lauded Sanchez for his toughness, poise, leadership, courage and intangibles last year have been busily burying him in the last two weeks. Did Sanchez suddenly become less courageous and poised over the last 12 months? More likely, everyone saw, or pretended to see, something that was never there.
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