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All right. It’s time to get off the 2012 posting schneid. The ol’ pendulum swung a little too far into vacation mode over the holidays, and then a little too far into back to work mode when they were over. Nevertheless, we are finally back.

Remember this guy?

His name is Rollen Stewart and throughout the late 70s, he showed up at nationally televised golf tournaments, NBA Finals, baseball and football games, and even Charles and Diane’s wedding. And despite the efforts by TV executives to exclude him, he would inevitably end up on screen at some point, acting all crazy and pointing at the slogan on his t-shirt. I guess he thought that everyone would run to their Bibles, look up that verse, and immediately fall to their knees. I wonder if that ever happened. I also remember wondering how Rollen had both the money and time to go to all those events.

In 1992, Stewart’s fervor turned felonious when he took a hotel maid hostage at a hotel near LAX. He offered to release her if he could have a few moments of airtime on every media network. He didn’t get his wish. When he threatened to start shooting at approaching airplanes, the patience of law enforcement ran out. His room was stormed; he was taken into custody; and he eventually received three consecutive life sentences.

Like most other Burghers, I subjected myself to the shock and awe of losing to the Tim Tebow-led Denver Broncos on Sunday. It was not as devastating to me as to the many life-long, live-and-die Stiller yinzers out there. My band wagon ticket was only punched back in 2005. But I know that life in Pittsburgh is that much more interesting when the Steelers are still winning. Any year that they fold up their tent before the Super Bowl makes for a longer, colder winter. (Even when the weather isn’t that much colder!) This is doubly troublesome when the Penguins continue to be concussed and mediocre. It’s not a good sign when Pittsburgh is looking forward to baseball season.

The irritation of losing was compounded by the obnoxious Tebow-files who insisted that by some sort of divine miracle, God Himself nudged the Broncos to victory. Now, I fully realize that probably 80% of this is just people having fun. Still, it seems to push actual devout faith into superstitious activities such as rain dancing, animal sacrifice, and talismans. It’s Rollen Stewart jumping in front of the television cameras all over again. It’s one thing when opponents of Christianity do this, but it’s quite another when evangelicals willingly go there, trying to use Tebow as some kind of supercharged commercial to better promote God before an unbelieving world. To think that his football performance would compel a doubter into full-throated praise of the Almighty.

Then there was his passing total: 316 yards (80 of which came on one play in overtime). Remember Rollen’s t-shirt? 316. It’s an omen (even though Christians aren’t supposed to believe in omens, but I digress). It suddenly became a Canton-worthy achievement. In regulation, Tebow was 9 for 20 for 236 yards. For any objective observer, those would be Rex Grossman-type numbers. But for Tebow-files, it was the football version of The Natural. Lights exploding. Sparks flying. Cue the sappy orchestra. Forget the fact that the Steelers’ running back had never run for 100 yards in a game in his life. Forget the fact that our QB was playing with a walker. Forget the fact that 2/3 of our defensive line limped off the field in the first quarter, taking away any kind of a pass rush. Forget the fact that our starting safety was in street clothes because Denver’s thin air took out his spleen the last time he played there. Forget the fact that the Steelers would have lost by 20 to a real quarterback. Forget all of that. Cue Tim’s final pose for the cameras.

Cue the Pittsburgh mayor paying off a lost bet…

Sour grapes from a Pittsburgh observer? Indeed. I fully admit it: I’m conflicted over the whole thing. I think it’s a religious bunch of man-made hooey. I think it’s a desperate attempt of some believers trying to grab a flukie football moment and say, “There! See? See what faith will do?” Only what about Troy Polamalu’s faith? What about all the tragedy that occurred in the world while God was busy fixing the end of a football game? When Tim gets creamed by the Patriots next week, do we read anything about God into that? Probably not.

Of course, the other part of my conflicted dilemma is that on Sunday, I will be rooting for Tim Tebow to pray down miraculous fire from heaven to smote the evil, Satan-worshipping New England Patriots. You know I will. I’ll be pulling for that miracle like every other Bible thumper who pins God’s reputation on Tim Tebow’s 5-cent arm.

God, help me. Please make it stop.

Addendum:  This was post number 327 on Carpetbaggery. Can you imagine if it had been 316? So close. That would have truly been a sign.