Creating the John Brantley Bandwagon


It won’t be an easy task, what with those firmly planted on the

Tim Tebow

bandwagon not willing to jump off anytime soon (take one look at any


site and you’ll find fans still fawning over #15), but it’s time

John Brantley

gets followers of his own.  It’s time Gator Nation get behind #12.

Everywhere you look these days, there appears to be more about Tebow than any other sports figure out there.  Tebow at the Senior Bowl.  Tebow with his shirt off.  Tebow dropped a snap.  Tebow dated (or didn’t date) an American Idol contestant.  Tebow’s roommate will give up baseball.  Tebow and his draft status.  This site contributed to it on more than one occasion and will most likely continue to, but now it’s the time to officially give up my seat as a Tebow follower and create the Brantley bandwagon.  Not brush Tebow aside by any means, but support the new quarterback with the same level of admiration as the old one.

The Tebow bandwagon was definitely a muscle car.  Not one of the new imitation ones, but an original.  Something like a ’66 Pontiac GTO.  It had power.  Raw power.  It was big and commanded your respect.  You wanted to applaud it, but where too busy getting the hell out of its way.  It would sooner go over you than around you, but had plenty of room if you too wished to hop aboard.  And it would gladly let you do so.

The Brantley bandwagon is something entirely different though.  Think along the lines of a new Ferrari 458 Italia.  It too has power and more speed than you can shake a fist at, but its style is what catches your eye.  It’s a head-turner that has you thinking “did I really just see that?!?”  You want to get in it.  You want to be part of it all.  But you can’t help but jump back on the other bandwagon every time is revs its engine.

You’re not to be blamed though.  After all, you know what the muscle car can do.  You’ve been accustomed to it.  It has led you through the good times and the bad.  It hasn’t broken down and doesn’t plan too.  Even during a down season (2007), it brought home the Heisman Trophy.  It’s reliable and will do exactly what you’ve always expected from it.  But eventually its era had to come to an end.  Out with the old and in with the new.  The bright, shiny new.

The new is a different ride.  It won’t run you over.  There’s no need.  You’re too busy falling in love with its rocket arm.  Just when you get comfortable watching it hand off to the running backs on consecutive plays, it’ll hit a receiver on a deep post pattern.  Touchdown.  Game over.  It brings a new dimension to the offense.  One you briefly saw the muscle car pull off during the Sugar Bowl.  A passing of the torch from one quarterback to the other, from one offense to the other if there ever was one.

Sure you’ll miss the muscle car.  You’ll get excited during attempts to bring its styling back (think the new Dodge Challenger), but none of the new will ever be the same as the original.  What you don’t realize just yet is you’ll be just as happy riding in the Ferrari.  You’ll appreciate it for its differences.  But in the end you’ll love it for its similarities.  Wins.