Why We Play: Tim Tebow and the value of a headline

It’s that time of year again. Summer is waning, school has started up again, the New England foliage is tinged with autumnal hues, and the NFL rules the sports world every Sunday. That’s right, everyone, football is finally back. But this year there is even more to be excited about, because NFL prodigal son Tim Tebow is making a comeback. As a baseball player.

That’s right. At the end of August, Tebow, former Heisman-winning college phenom, internet meme pioneer and mediocre professional quarterback, held a tryout in front of scouts for 28 different MLB teams in hopes of being signed to a minor league contract.

And several days ago he got his wish, as the New York Mets signed him to a deal that included a $100,000 signing bonus. Tebow’s next step is to report to Port St. Lucie, Florida, where he will compete in a fall instructional league while simultaneously fulfilling his duties as a college football analyst for ESPN.

My reaction to this latest development in Tebow’s always-eventful athletic career has already cycled through several stages. First came the eye-rolling stage. Before several months ago, Tebow had not played baseball since his junior year of high school, where he was, admittedly, a star. And while he possesses the raw athletic ability required to be a two-sport athlete, his absence from the game has meant his skill development is at the level of a high school prospect, except that Tebow is 29.

Talk like this, of how Tebow’s prospects as an MLB player are essentially zero, dominated the colorful world of sports talk shows in the immediate wake of his tryout. Stephen A. Smith, the perpetually indignant ESPN talking head, criticized Tebow’s “arrogance,” and was one of many to point out the hurdle that Tebow’s erratic throwing arm would be to a potential career on the diamond. So if Tebow was never going to make it as a professional baseball player, what motivated this sudden and inexplicable career move (besides the $100,000)? This question brought me into the second stage of my feelings on Tim Tebow’s pursuit for athletic glory: the cynical stage.

I am certainly not the first one to entertain the idea that Tebow’s sudden interest in baseball may be nothing more than a publicity stunt. It makes a certain amount of sense. In Tebow’s football days he had an uncanny knack for generating headlines in spite of, or possibly because of, his incredibly humble off-field demeanor. He quickly became a cultural phenomenon, becoming the butt of jokes on Saturday Night Live and South Park. His star faded quickly, but the Tebow name was enough to get him to training camps of several teams, even after the consensus was that he was not fit to be an NFL quarterback.

Now, however, Tebow has been out of the spotlight for several years. He has worked steadily as an analyst, but in today’s world of social media and the 24-news cycle, attention spans are shorter and competition for headlines has become more fierce than ever. What you did last year, last month, or last week no longer matters, and stars who make their careers off of their name are forced to continually reinvent themselves and one-up their peers in order to maintain interest.

For proof of this, look no further than the success of post-Disney Channel Miley Cyrus or the entire Kardashian clan. When I look at things from this perspective, my cynicism begins to set in and I find myself tempted to see Tebow as simply another wayward celebrity in search of his next headline. We are told that the reason people should play a sport, or do anything else in life, is because they love it, not because they think it will bring the fame or success. And if Tim Tebow had really always been passionate about baseball, I tell myself, he never would have given it up in the first place.

But just as I was ready to chalk up Tim Tebow’s reemergence as another symptom of the selfie generation, I began to look at things from Tebow’s perspective. First off, I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t do the same thing if I were in his situation and blessed with his athletic gifts.

But beyond that, I thought about what it meant for Tebow to not only come out of retirement, but attempt to enter an entirely new sport at almost 30 years old. Sure, he might not be as passionate about baseball as he is about football, but Tebow has been an athlete his entire life, and there’s no reason that his love for sports or desire to play professionally should be confined only to one. It can’t have been easy for him to give up playing the game that he loved. Perhaps, in his eyes, baseball will provide him with a second chance. Besides, the fact that he put himself back in the middle of all the ridicule that comes with being famous must mean something about his passion for the game.

This is the third stage of my thoughts on the Tebow phenomenon — what I will call the sympathetic stage. We will ultimately never know if Tebow is being motivated by his love of baseball, sports in general, the limelight, or some combination of the three.

It would be nice if everyone’s motivations were pure and unadulterated by greed or ego, but that’s almost never the case, and I think that’s okay. In the end I want to say this: Tim, if you’re listening, this armchair philosopher gives you the go-ahead to keep pursuing whatever it is you want you want to pursue. Even if it’s just attention.