I’ve purchased my foot-long subs from the youth group at my church.

I’ve unplugged the phone in my family room and have invited a few friends over to watch the Super Bowl this Sunday.

I’ve purchased my foot-long subs from the youth group at my church.
I’ve unplugged the phone in my family room and have invited a few friends over to watch the Super Bowl this Sunday.
That’s right, I’m actually going to sit down and watch the biggest televised event this side of American Idol.
Normally, I could care less who wins the over-hyped, overblown game that always turns out to be a disappointment; but this year, I have a rooting interest in the game.
Phoenix quarterback Kurt Warner, the former Iowa grocery store stock boy who became an NFL and Super Bowl MVP, was thrown on the trash heep a few years ago as he stood in the shadows of young lions like Eli Manning (New York Giants) and Matt Leinart (Phoenix).
However, when Leinart decided to spend more time with a bevy of beauties in a hot tub, Warner won back the starting job with the Cardinals and has led Phoenix to perhaps the most improbable Super Bowl run in the history of the NFL.
Warner, who quotes the Bible with the passion of an evangelist, is the real deal. He believes in God, he thanks God every opportunity he gets and he has never done a thing to embarrass himself, his family, his team or the NFL.
I first met Warner eight years ago, when he was the hottest quarterback in the NFL. The Sports Illustrated cover boy and his St. Louis Rams were the greatest show on turf. They came to Kansas City with a perfect record and the desire to reach another Super Bowl.
That all came crashing down when the Chiefs pulled off a stunning upset and Warner was knocked out of the game with a broken finger.
I was betting he wouldn’t have time for the media after the disappointing loss – but boy, was I wrong.
With his finger taped up, and a large ice bag wrapped around his hand, he answered every question with the type of enthusiasm you only expect from an opposing player following a victory at then noisy Arrowhead Stadium.
I followed him out of the locker room, and watched an encounter I will never forget. A young girl asked Warner if she could get a photo.
He turned to me and said, “Would you mind taking a photo of us?”
Warner didn’t know this girl.
I’m sure his hand was throbbing and his outlook on the season was glum, but he stopped for the photo.
When I couldn’t get the camera to work, he took it and tinkered around with a moment and figured out how to click a shot.
Smiling, he put his arm around the young lady’s shoulder and gave her a Kodak moment she will never forget.
I then watched him walk up the long, dark tunnel to the team buses. He signed everything that was thrust in his face – T-shirts, hats, footballs, programs. And he signed every item: God is Good, Kurt Warner, and then added a favorite Bible verse.
In this day and age when athletes thank the Lord one minute, then step out of their limousine into a strip club the next, I think of a guy like Warner.
I don’t know if God is a betting man, but I like Warner’s chances this Sunday. And if happens to pull off another Super Bowl win, and thanks God afterward, be assured that it comes from the heart – and not some marketing guy who thinks it will help his client get his image on a box of cereal.