Tebow came out for the postgame presser in a knit cap and a vest, jeans and sneakers. He offered praise to God (which, for some reason, doesn’t bug me so much when he does it). He spoke of how privileged he was to spend time before the game with Bailey Knaub, a 16-year-old who has endured 73 surgeries battling Wegener’s granulomatosis, a rare disease that attacks vital organs. And he credited his teammates — wideout Demaryius Thomas (204 yards, the game-winning score), presumably first among them — “who make me look a lot better than I really am.”…

I can’t think of an athlete, who has been judged by such bipolar standards. Tebow began the season as a bum. Then he became a savior (not just the garden-variety redeemer of a franchise, but spoken of as a true messianic figure). Then he became a bum again. By Sunday morning, ESPN’s various broadcasters were pontificating on his crushed confidence and predicting his replacement by Brady Quinn, who is not only a proven failure as an NFL quarterback but hadn’t thrown a pass all season.

After all that, if anyone was entitled to a self-righteous “I told you so,” it was Tebow. Instead, he said: “I’m just blessed to have an opportunity to be the quarterback for the Denver Broncos and play in a game in front of such great fans and with great teammates.”