Tim and I were coming out of Starbucks with our Venti Pumpkin Spice Lattes when his phone rang. He looked at the screen of his flip phone & smiled. "T-Rex!" he said with enthusiasm. "What's up my brutha!" I was surprised that Rex Ryan was calling Timmy, but not surprised by Timmy's enthusiasm. He often said that the three snaps he played for the Jets were some of his favorite, coming just behind every snap he played for the Broncos and the Patriots. He felt bad for that little zinger, but consoled himself with the knowledge that it was actually true. "First of all T-Rex, there's just one savior, and it ain't me. He lived 2,000 years ago and put together the biggest come-from-behind victory the world has ever seen. And secondly, God has something for me outside of football. But I love you and appreciate the call." I could hear shouted obscenities on the other line as Tim flipped his phone closed and turned to me with a grin. "Old T-Rex sure was hot when I turned him down. But I just know God has something for me." We rounded the corner, arm-in-arm and with our drinks keeping our hands warm during a crisp fall New York afternoon when a group of young men in NYU sweatshirts started shouting, "Tebow! Tebow! Tebow!" "Hi guys," he said with a smile and a wave. We were turning to leave when one of them yelled, "Hey Tebow, is it true that you used to call 3rd & 15 'Jews'?" Tim cocked his head to the side, a confused look on his face. "You know, because they are so hard to convert?" With that, a bolt of lightening crashed out of the sky, knocking the student down and igniting his sweatshirt. Before I knew what was happening, he snatched the Pumpkin Spice Latte out of my hands and was streaking towards the young man with the same speed that he once used to elude linebackers. The NYU student was screaming and flailing around in pain and terror. Tim dumped both lattes on him, but the fire burned on. Without even thinking, he fell on top of him and rolled around until the flames were out. He fell off the boy, the tears in his Land's End sweater revealing 2nd and 3rd degree burns. Something in the event had set off his peter meter, but I didn't have time to wonder what it could have been. "Now I know why God pulled me out of football," he said with a smile. "But Tim," I said, still in shock by all the events that had unfolded. "If you'd been playing football, none of this would have happened." But Tim was already unconscious as a ray of light broke through the clouds to illuminate his perfectly still body. "He looks like a Thomas Kincaid painting" I said out loud, but nobody could hear me above the sirens.