The Internet is all atwitter – pardon the pun – about Denver Bronco quarterback Tim Tebow, not so much about his unorthodox style of play on the football field as about his public displays of piety on that same field.

"Tebowing," meaning to drop to one knee in prayer after, in his case, a trip into the end zone, is being copied worldwide, according to some reports.

Whether it is a serious show of faith or intended to mock Tebow depends on one's point of view.

We've come to expect politicians to wear their religion on their sleeves. Republican presidential candidate Rick Perry, for instance, has a TV spot out in which he proclaims his Christianity and panders to fundamentalists by nonsensically accusing President Barack Obama of waging a war on religion.

But the reaction to Tebow might lead one to believe that this is a new phenomenon in sports, that athletes heretofore have avoided controversy by keeping their religious beliefs to themselves. Not so. God has long been a presence in the huddle, the dugout and the locker room.

An organization called the Fellowship of Christian Athletes in Kansas City, Mo., was formed in 1954, its goal to use coaches and athletes as a means of Christian evangelism. It's been routine for years to hear its members in TV interviews giving thanks to a higher power for a victory or a good performance.

Another organization, Pro Athletes Outreach, has been in existence for years and is headquartered in Palo Alto. It declares on its website that "today's professional athletes have a tremendous platform to influence the world around them." Its vision: "To recruit and equip an army of coaches, professional athletes and their families to make a positive impact on the world for Jesus Christ."

Watch almost any baseball game and you will see players pointing skyward after a home run, presumably giving thanks to their God that he gave them the power to hit one out. Football teams routinely hold prayer sessions before games and have for years, sometimes on the sidelines or at midfield.

In the late 1970s, the San Francisco Giants had a group of players known as the "God Squad." They labeled themselves as born-again Christians, kept Bibles in their lockers and held regular prayer meetings in each other's homes.

As a reporter then for the Los Angeles Times, I was invited to one such meeting at the home of pitcher Bob Knepper and heard testimonials from several players, one of whom, seldom-used infielder Rob Andrews, said that "if the Lord decides to take me from this situation and put me in a starting position, I'll be ready." But the "God Squad" became such a distraction for the Giants that the players were accused by critics of becoming so preoccupied with the belief that their fate was in the hands of God that they had become passive competitors.

A San Francisco Chronicle sports columnist, Glenn Dickey, wrote that their "simplistic faith" had made them unconcerned with winning and had given them a crutch to excuse poor performances. The Giants were languishing in fourth place in the National League's Western Division at the time.

Tebow has become just the latest and best known poster boy for Christian athletes and, like most of them, he undoubtedly knows the Bible from front to back and can quote scripture at the drop of a hat. While starring at the University of Florida, he wrote "John 3:16" on his eye black.

If they view Christian witnessing as part of their mandate, as Tebow surely does, that would explain why these athletes choose to ignore a few verses in the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 6, in which the author quotes Jesus as saying: "Be careful not to perform your religious duties in public so that people will see what you do. If you do these things publicly, you will not have any reward from your Father in heaven. And when you pray, do not be like the show-offs. They love to stand up and pray in the meeting houses and on the street corners so that everybody will see them."

My favorite anecdote about the merging of sports and religion comes courtesy of Earl Weaver, former manager of the Baltimore Orioles, who reportedly was told by one of his weak-hitting outfielders that the player had learned to walk with God.

Weaver is said to have replied, "I'd rather have you walk with the bases loaded."

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William Endicott is a former deputy managing editor of The Bee.

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