How does the nation's leading women's fashion magazine justify a profile of a homeschooled evangelical second-string football player? You Vogue him up, that's how. You make Tim Tebow into a style icon (when he's not) and a social butterfly who's eating up the New York party scene (when he's not). You get the inevitable Annie Leibovitz to photograph him as he shirtlessly and sweatily pushes a tire that seems to have fallen off a passing DC-10.
And you get someone to write stuff like this:
Last spring, Tebow was the center of attention at the Vanity Fair Oscar party, and at the Met Costume Institute Gala, in a crisp Ralph Lauren Purple Label tuxedo, he made all the girls swoon
[H]e recently batted away rumors that he'd appear on the next season of The Bachelor—but Tim is starting to think beyond football. Going to A-list parties, employing stylists, signing with powerhouse Hollywood agency WME—it's all part of a plan to expand his network and draw attention to the Tim Tebow Foundation, with its outreach programs to hospitals and orphanages here and abroad.
That's how you get Timmy Tebow into Vogue—you turn him into a lost Kennedy cousin. He has a stylist; Annie Leibovitz took photos of him in a hoodie; he goes to all these parties (one of which, the Met Costume gala, is run by Vogue editor Anna Wintour).
But what about that business of playing football?
Just months before, the high-profile New York Jets paid the Broncos millions to install him as the backup to their wobbly-looking starter, Mark Sanchez. Both QBs are young and photogenic—and only one of them can lead the team this season.
And it's not Tim Tebow.
So what else we got?
He's got "heat." He's "big and bulky." He's got a "superhero frame." He "practically leaps to his feet" to slap hands with a "strapping young UCLA football player" who met him through the Make-a-Wish Foundation when stricken with blood disease. Tebow "marvels at Luke's fitness and size." And in his final interview "he's dressed in a purple V-neck T-shirt and a polished, eye-catching cross." Accessorized with his Savior. Truly, Tim Tebow belongs to everyone now.
Image above courtesy of Vogue. Vogue policy says "an image of the cover must run alongside any images from the inside of the magazine." We were happy to comply.