How Tebow Popped My Cherry: Confessions of a Virgin Fan

I hate football.

Actually, that’s not true. Football’s right up there with all the other pro-sports. I hate that I don’t GET it. I don’t get the appeal. I don’t get how people feel such passionate affinity for a pro-team that’s made up of players who have no ties to a city or the fans, aside from a grotesquely massive paycheck. I don’t get why Denver rioted when the Avalanche won the Stanley Cup the first year the city scalped them off the Canadians. I remember watching the “celebrations” from the safety of my family’s living room while the Denver fan-herd just couldn’t help but bust out the jazz-hands (I wish) while climbing lampposts, lighting trash cans on fire and tipping cars over in Larimer Square. Real classy. I can just imagine the conversations that followed:

“Son, why’d you tip that car over?”

“Your honor, I…I was just so happy those Canadians-pretending-to-be-Coloradans went and won a big shiny mug for us! I mean, I’ve been an Aves fan for, gosh, 4 months now! It’s in my BLOOD! We finally have something to taunt BOSTON with! I just couldn’t contain my glee! I plead crazy.” (Jazz hands!)

See? I don’t get it. Which is probably why I’m writing for The Daily Dickpunch. I have no idea why I’m writing for The Daily Dickpunch. Maybe it’s exactly because I have very little to say about either politics or sports. It’s just not my territory. The boys already have that covered, and covered well.

However, I am a huge fan of Broncos’ Quarterback Tim Tebow, but not because he’s all up in his Jesus and not because he seems to be pulling miraculous wins from his hunky shoulder pads garnished with rugged facial scruff. (Okay, that may have something to do with it). It’s because there’s something far more interesting going on. 

shoulders and scruff!

shoulder, scruff and....halo? Oh my!

From a cultural, brand and advertising perspective, he’s making a few touchdowns of the metaphorical sort. He has kicked open the introductory gate to football fandom for clueless football outsiders like me. Tebow is to Football, as Smirnoff Ice is to Beer. (and I swear I don’t mean that in an insulting way). Let me explain.

Before Tebow: I see a field of men covered in so much gear, I can’t really tell one from another. They run around and knock each other over, while an annoying announcer tells me exactly what’s happening out right there in front of me, but in a language I don’t speak. And then everyone gets all excited and start shouting and some sort of “Down” happens, but all I see are a pile of men, somewhere in the middle of the field.

Then we get a tight shot on some coach yelling and looking either sad or super happy or like he wishes he had a computer to chuck out a window. Then a Rugby huddle, but at least in Rugby the huddle wiggles around and squishes people’s heads which is funny to watch. Whatever. YES, I would love another beer. Then off field the coaches play Press-Schmooze and the players say the same old crap about “Staying strong, and stepping up, and team effort and blah blah blah.” Then they go out and party and get some bad press about mistreating some girl with fake tits and fish lips so numb she probably drools, while driving dumb cars that only make sense in Vegas or Dubai. And if you’re lucky enough to run into one of our celebrity stars at the grocery store, I’m probably the dumbass that has no idea that the rock-tree hybrid behind me in line is a local hero, stupidly assuming he’s the offspring of an Amazonian women’s lacrosse team. These are things an American girl can’t say in public. You can screw up a really promising date saying dumb shit like this:

“Wait, what’s a first down? How do they know to line up there? Linebackers are the big ones right? Huh, I think that guy was in front of me at the grocery store yesterday. Oooooh! Wait, which team made a touchdown? They didn’t? Why are you so excited? I…don’t get it.”     *hair twirl*

I’m at least smart enough to know when to keep my mouth shut. Well, until now. The point is it’s hard to love something you don’t understand. Did I know the difference between a quarterback and a fullback before? No, but did you see what just happened there? That’s right. Now that I hear people debating the definition of both, while they rip T-Cakes a metaphorical new one, or elevate his holy pedestal into the nosebleed section, the more drama, the more I’m intrigued, and the more I get sucked into the game itself. It’s brilliant. I can’t HELP but develop a taste for it. His Quarterbackness is EVERYWHERE. The media is HEMORRHAGING blue and orange. There’s finally more going on than grunting men knocking each other over.

Like this. Pretty sure it's not a huddle. Pretty sure it's not some sort of "Down" either. But it sure has a lot of people talking 'till they're blue (and orange) in the face.

A former boyfriend from Michigan tried to explain the whole sports thing to me, and I’m pretty sure he’s spot on: Pro-Sports are to men as Soap Operas are to women. Granted, the men-women division there is a little off, since we all know a ton of chicks who are super passionate fans, but he made a good point. The trick is to get sucked in just enough to see people, not players, and wonder, “What’s gonna happen next?!” complete with edge-of-your-seat-wedgie and chewed fingernails. Once that dramatic hook’s set, you soak up the rest of the story (game) like a hungry little sponge.

I was just missing Tebow’s darling face to kindly invite me onto the field, and pass my indifferent ass that cliff-hanger rush. The game is suddenly more than sweaty balls and ugly fans in hideous costumes making asses of themselves. There’s a STORY with a fallible hero. AND beer. BONUS. There’s personality and a cutie with an amazing ass just doing his thing regardless of what happens in the mass media recoil. The folks he’s pissing off? Their hate is just making the story that much MORE captivating. Then we add plays that even I can see defy human odds and logic.

As a result the NFL has just won themselves a virgin pair of eyeballs. I can’t WAIT to see what happens next, and in the world of brand and consumer-speak, this is an entirely different sort of touchdown. It’s a marketing manager’s wet dream. Tim Tebow is becoming the unintentional brand icon capable of crossing that elusive threshold and opening up a whole new football fan base- the untapped, oblivious, clueless virgin-fans like me. And that is the cherry that Denver’s new polarizing sweetheart is popping. When you capture the mass media’s attention on so many different levels, people who have never paid attention, will.

Now you’ll have to excuse me while I prance out to buy my first broncos jersey despite the fact that I look horrible in orange. At least everyone else does too.



  1. […] Tim Tebow, he of much faith and bicep and scruff, reeled off seven straight victories at the expense of struggling and just flat-out bad teams, […]

  2. […] You know what else gives me a rock-hard, throbbing two inch Tebowner? […]

  3. […] real, live girl weighs in on how Tim Tebow popped her cherry. And despite that description, it’s totally safe for work. How did we she do it? MAGIC […]

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