by Tim Tebow
“Sweet. Let’s do it!” I said.
Coach Meyer laughed. He wasn’t going to do it, and he knew that before he told me about his dream. But he knew I would want to—and would—do it for him. Cooler heads prevailed—his. After a few minutes, we did hatch a different plan that didn’t involve anything illegal or to cheat the game or to make us look bad . . . or that might have started a brawl. We simply played within the rules and used our time-outs.
We were ahead 49–10, with very little time left in the game. I had already taken a curtain call, as Coach had taken me out a little bit before that. I usually didn’t like doing something like that, but I was more than happy to do it this time, because I was still so fired up—it was Georgia—and it gave me a chance to run straight to our fans in the corner of the field and celebrate with them.
I was pretty emotional, which fired up the fans even more. The stadium, while ordinarily half orange and blue and half red and black, was now mostly orange, blue, and teal (the color of all the empty seats of the Georgia fans who left with the score insurmountably in our favor).
It was one of the most exciting times of my life. Period. There we were, in Jacksonville where I grew up. Georgia had embarrassed us the previous year, but on this day we had physically and in every other respect beaten them up. We were mentally more prepared, emotionally more invested, and obviously wanted it more than they did. All we heard about during the whole off-season was that Georgia was the number one team in the country, they had the best quarterback in the country, their running back, Knowshon Moreno, was going to be up for the Heisman, and so on.
So, up 39 points, we called all our time-outs in the last minute of the game just to extend the time, allowing us all to savor the moment. We were playing well, and it was hard to imagine that we’d actually lost a game. It still sat out there like an open wound that kept driving us to try and dominate every team, every individual, that we played. We didn’t know how the year would finish, but one game at a time, we were staking our claim to being the best team in the country.
The next weekend we played in Nashville against Vanderbilt, and it just felt like football weather. It was early November and we were on a roll.
We were also sporting new uniforms—all white with long white socks. The best uniforms we ever had, in my opinion. On the opening drive we got the ball and drove right down the field, and then I threw a touchdown pass to Louis Murphy in the corner of the end zone. It was over from that point on. I probably had my best, most consistent game as a Gator that day.
We were scoring like crazy, but somehow, Percy Harvin hadn’t scored, even though he had scored in every game in 2008 leading up to this one, so in the second half, Coach Meyer put Percy in at quarterback, and he ran three times from the one yard line, while I was split out at receiver. On the third play, they ruled that he fumbled even though we thought he had scored. I was disappointed—I was hoping for at least one game in which we scored on every possession. By now you shouldn’t be surprised by that.
When we got back to the sideline, Percy told me he’d had enough of goal-line plays at quarterback, that he couldn’t believe the collisions on every play. He usually got the ball out in space and was able to use his tremendous speed to gain an advantage. He knew it was violent, trying to rush the ball up the middle, especially at the goal line with twenty-two guys packed into a small space, but it still caught him off guard.
As for the game, after I had a hand in five touchdowns, Coach took me out. Johnny Brantley played the fourth quarter. We clinched the SEC East and a trip to the SEC Championship Game with a 42–14 win that cold night in Nashville.
And Percy did finally get his touchdown in that Vandy game.
In the weeks since the Ole Miss game, we’d stepped up our play in every way. We had one more game where it seemed like we were still figuring it all out as a team—Arkansas. It was the next game after Ole Miss. In the latter part of that Arkansas game, however, things all seemed to begin to click for a lot of guys, and all of a sudden we were on a roll. We were simply dispatching our opponents.
South Carolina was next, and ranked in the top twenty-five, they had a good defense, so we needed to be careful to maintain the same level of preparation and intensity. I went through my usual weekly preparation for classes, meetings, and film work. Every free hour that I had, I headed down to the coaches’ offices, often sitting in the offensive staff meetings as the coaches discussed the plans for the game. The more I knew about a given game plan, the better I felt, and this week wasn’t any different.
I had done that throughout my time at Florida, meeting individually with Coach Meyer and my position coach and attending whatever game-planning meetings I could. I felt it was important for me to not only understand what the coaches wanted to do in a particular situation, but why as well. Plus, the more I was around to hear their thinking and watch film, the better prepared I would be for whatever might happen on Saturday.
I owed that to myself and my teammates. If I was going to lead the way I wanted to lead, I needed to be as ready as possible. Therefore, whenever I could fit it in between classes, studying, and tutoring sessions, I did.
On film, we saw that South Carolina ran a lot of different stunts on defense, using only three down linemen. They had Marvin Sapp, a linebacker I grew up playing with at the Lakeshore Athletic Association’s Pop Warner football league in Jacksonville.
Before the game, someone told me that it was the first time a coach who had won a Heisman was facing a player who had won one, and if we hadn’t been about to kick off, I might have reflected on that more. That Coach Spurrier and I both won it at the University of Florida was pretty special, but I didn’t have time to think about it at that moment.
As it was, we remembered our last close call with South Carolina in Gainesville during the National Championship season of 2006 and knew we needed to stay focused. Instead, we started rather slowly on offense. Our defense scored our first touchdown on an interception return by Brandon Spikes, and Ahmad Black gave us good field position with an interception of his own on South Carolina’s next possession.
Ahmad was having a terrific year, and I was happy for him. He had a mind-set that I could relate to. Throughout my life, my brothers and I have always been football junkies—we love watching it and love playing it. Even now, when we end up at home, we’ll head out into the yard and play—except that we finally quit playing tackle a couple of years ago. I’ve never viewed playing football as a job, like some others I’ve known through the years did, and so everything I did—playing the game, practice, workouts, study—all emanated from my love for the game.
Ahmad and the Pouncey brothers, Maurkice and Mike, seemed to share our love of playing. They’d play anywhere, with anyone. The Pounceys, in fact, were terrific receivers and quarterbacks in pickup games despite their size, which made them naturals to play on the offensive line. There it is again: “playing position by body stereotype.” Oh, well.
We fumbled twice in the first half but still led, 28–3, at the half-time break. As always with South Carolina, it was a physical game. I know Coach Spurrier has a reputation with the fans for having passing, finesse teams, but his teams always hit. Hard.
We played better in the second half, and like the rest of our games during that stretch, it wasn’t close.
We had one more tune-up, which resulted in a win over The Citadel, and then we faced FSU again. This time, it was in Tallahassee—my Braveheart game. I really appreciated the similarities as that’s my favorite movie. A pouring rain soaked the field, and I got garnet paint on my uniform and face early in the game. It ended up looking like blood, but that was where the parallels between me and William Wallace ended. On that day, we were the ones doing the slaughtering.
We scored early and often, and as in other Florida State games, I was looking to make contact with someone on each of my runs. Early on I ran over their safety, helping to set the tone for our approach to the rest of the game. Our guys didn’t ne
ed any help, however. Percy scored again, and I threw three touchdown passes and ran for another. I even recovered a fumble.
They had the ball in good field position a couple of times early, but our defense played great, holding them to field goals, while we were scoring touchdowns. We stayed in control all day long.
My one rushing touchdown came after Percy was injured. In every other stadium I’ve played in, there’s silence when a player is injured, whether he plays for the home or visiting team. But when Percy went down in front of their stands, the FSU fans burst into loud cheering and chanting, celebrating his injury. Even while he was being attended to, before anyone knew if he was all right. That only reinforced my long-time and well-established feelings for them.
We had the ball at their four yard line at the time, and I was steamed at the cheering. I jogged over to Coach Meyer.
“Give me the ball.”
He nodded.
I hit the line and was stood up by a couple of FSU defenders. In a play that summed up our approach that year, most of my teammates joined the pile and pushed me—and the surrounding FSU players—into the end zone. Touchdown.
I ran over to the section of the stands where our fans were seated and waved my arms, bringing them to a frenzy. Throughout the game, we controlled FSU, scoring on five of the first seven times we had the ball, and we had more than twice as many yards as they did for the game.
Chapter Eighteen
A Promise Fulfilled
For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.
—JOHN 3:16
It was a good thing I loved big games, because the week after the FSU game, we had another big one, as we headed to Atlanta for the Southeastern Conference Championship Game against Alabama.
After the 2007 season, Nick Saban had left the Miami Dolphins to replace Mike Shula, and he had Alabama playing very well. They were undefeated and ranked number one in the nation. We were ranked number two and had that one loss to Ole Miss, of course. It had been two months since we’d lost, however, and we were a very confident group.
After wearing Philippians 4:13 on my eye black all season, I thought about switching it for that game and going with John 3:16. I mulled it over for a while but decided to leave it the same. If we ended up on a bigger stage—the BCS National Championship Game for example—I’d switch.
The atmosphere was electric in the Georgia Dome. Our whole family was there and had all stayed at Katie and Gannon’s house. Our defense set the tone for us immediately by stopping Alabama on their opening drive. Even though we were missing Percy Harvin, who had sprained an ankle in that FSU game, our offense drove right down the field on a great drive in which I hit Carl Moore for a touchdown on third and goal. Our coaches did a great job preparing us with the absence of Percy, who up until then had scored in every game that year.
It was one of those well-played games by both teams, where you’re happy to be a part of it. We went into halftime leading 17–10, after David Nelson caught a touchdown pass right before the end of the half. After the Ole Miss game, David had stepped up as he said he would, and he had come through at some critical times for us.
Alabama came out strong in the second half, and we didn’t score in the third quarter. They tied the score on a touchdown by their freshman running back, Mark Ingram, and then added a field goal to take the lead, 20–17, entering the fourth quarter.
We were both playing for everything—the SEC title and a spot in the National Championship game.
We embarked on an offensive drive that was the biggest drive of the game for us. If we didn’t score, we ran the risk of their scoring again and putting the game out of reach. It was a slow, methodical drive where we kept making play after play after play. Great offense vs. great defense.
I looked at the faces in the huddle. “We are going to win this game right now.” I believed. They believed.
We were able to make some great plays and manage the ball. After I picked up a couple of third downs, we had the ball on their one yard line, and Coach Mullen made a great play call. I’m pretty sure Alabama thought we were going to run it right up the middle, but instead I ran an option with Jeff Demps, in which, after I flipped it to him, he basically walked into the end zone untouched—our guys made some great blocks.
Great call. Great execution.
We now led again, 24–20, and desperately needed to keep the momentum. I ran over and head-butted everybody on the kickoff team, trying to get them all fired up to stop Alabama. I don’t really know if the head-butts were the reason or not, but our kickoff team and defense got big stops, and we got the ball back with just a few minutes left to play.
The only way we were going to be safe was if we scored a touchdown. If we kicked a field goal, we would still only be up by seven and they could tie us on a single play. With a touchdown, they would need to score twice.
We systematically moved the ball on runs and with the help of a big Alabama penalty, and then we were able to hit a swing pass to David Nelson—another big catch for him—for ten yards. We kept moving the ball down the field and working time off the clock in the process. Eventually we had a first down from their twenty-one yard line. I connected with Aaron Hernandez on a shovel pass and got the first down. It was a huge call. Great call again, and very well executed by Aaron and the guys.
On first and goal I ran the ball and gained five yards down to the goal line. Second and goal from the one.
Flag. A yellow flag was down on the field. The officials, inexplicably, called a penalty on Coach Meyer for being too far on the field. I’ve never seen something like that—at least not in a situation like that.
Now we were on the six yard line with second down and goal to go for a touchdown. Jeff Demps gained one on second down, leaving us with third and goal from the five. We desperately needed a touchdown.
Our coaches called “Trick Left 51 X Stutter Bend Cash,” in which Riley Cooper ran a stutter slant from the right toward the middle of the field. I anticipated Coach Saban would have Alabama come out in a Cover One (man defense) with certain players having no responsibility other than reading my eyes. After the snap, I immediately looked left to freeze those free defenders—a linebacker and a safety were reading my eyes—and quickly threw right to Coop before they could adjust. I had to throw it down and in front of Coop, because of the defenders. He did the rest. That was one of the biggest plays of Riley’s and my career.
That was the game right there. We had so much momentum. Our defense held them again, and we ran out the clock. We were the SEC champions and would be slated to be playing in the National Championship Game in South Florida early in January 2009.
Afterward, Coach Meyer said he thought my performance was the best fourth-quarter performance that he’s ever seen from a player. I know he’s biased, but it felt good to help the team and get us to the next game. The truth was, a whole lot of us chipped in—both on the field and on the sidelines—to achieve the victory that day and keep the promise we had made to one another.
The next morning, however, my head was killing me. I didn’t understand why, but when I looked in the mirror and saw the knots all over my forehead, I realized what I’d done. Those head-butts with the kickoff team? I’d forgotten that I didn’t have my helmet on. I’ll never do that again.
While we were beginning our practices for Oklahoma in the National Championship Game later that month, the award circuit began again. I was really hopeful about being a two-time winner of the Heisman.
Unfortunately it was not to be, but that merely further fueled my desire. I’d been to the BCS Championship once, and now I was headed back. And I was determined to win.
Game on.
We had a month to prepare. It was a busy month, between finals and the announcement that Coach Mullen would be named the head coach at Mississippi State. Coach Mullen had a particularly tough stretch, as he worked for both schools that month: recruit
ing for Mississippi State and hiring a staff and putting together a game plan while staying with us through the game.
I have never been more nervous than I was headed into the BCS National Championship Game. The fact that it was my second one didn’t change a thing. We were playing Oklahoma, and “Game on” or not, they were really good. They had been scoring at will on good teams all season, winning games by large margins. They were the highest scoring team in college football history and had scored more than sixty points five games in a row at one stretch.
But if there was any defense that could handle that and deal with what they had to do to prepare to stop that great Oklahoma offense—it was our defense.
Hands down. And they would be ready.
All week, their defense was talking trash, saying that I would have only been the sixth-best quarterback if I had played in their conference, the Big 12. I found that hurtful and upsetting; I was sure that I would’ve been at least fifth.
When we’re playing a night game, Coach Meyer always gives us about three hours off during the day. When we’re playing on a Saturday night during the regular season, this is a good thing. I could sit up in my hotel room, stay off my feet, and watch other college games from around the country.
However, this game was Thursday, January 8, 2009. When you’re sitting in Miami, waiting for the final game of the entire football season, with nothing to do but sit around and check out Thursday-afternoon television while trying not to dwell on the game that night . . .
I decided to have an impromptu Bible study and called as many guys as would fit into our room, including Pastor Lindsey (Lindsey Seals), the Ocala minister who served as our team chaplain. I spoke to the guys on Matthew 11:28–30, which says,