Attention, worshippers. Services have been cancelled for the foreseeable future.

Please clean out your huts and prepare to return to the “real” world. Tebow-town is officially closed.

Just as Jim Jones could only serve up the Kool-Aid for so long to facilitate the blind faith of his followers, so, too, has it been proven the mild-altering concoction consumed by Tim Tebow’s congregation has turned sour.

Forget “The Promise.” Forget Superman. Forget all the stupid Tebow-isms. And every other shred of “evidence” the foolish Florida faithful clung to in the ridiculous worship of their quarterback.

The double-standard-bearers, who are taking up for Tebow being “attacked” for his tears and, supposedly, his faith, are nothing short of hypocritical.

In glorious victory, we do not mock his faith, but the idolatrous worship of Tebow—by Florida fans, sportswriters, analysts, broadcasters, and third-world countries (or at least that’s how ESPN portrayed it).

Doesn’t the Ten Commandments say a little something about having no other gods?

Alabama fans are just as guilty, placing Nick Saban on a houndstooth pedestal of our own, they say. (Apparently, there are exceptions for missionaries?)

Yes, we crimson-clad followers worship Saban in our own way.

Children are named after him, people wear hats like him, people may even talk like him. But guess what?

We “worship” him for returning our program to national prominence within his short three-year tenure.

We praise him for bringing in two back-to-back No. 1 recruiting classes.

We appreciate the discipline and singular focus with which he’s infused our program.

In short, we revere and respect the man for doing the job he was hired to do.

But herein lies the difference.

We aren’t chiseling any stupid promise in stone to erect on campus. Certainly not something said by a player who we’ve promoted as the nucleus—if not the only member—of our “team.” (At Alabama, all of our players matter and contribute to our success.)

Supporting your coach for meeting and exceeding the rabid expectations of your fanbase is different than deifying one player and irrationally buying into unsubstantiated hype about his superhuman abilities.

The media certainly hasn’t ordained Saban’s ability to walk on water, as they have of Tebow.

All season long—perhaps since Tebow’s immaculate conception—it’s been expected that Alabama and Florida would meet for the SEC Championship game, Florida would win, then it’s on to Pasadena where they would, no doubt (especially if you’re just about any talking head) win their third national title in four years.

Few gave Alabama a chance, despite an undefeated regular season, a cache of offensive and defensive weapons, and, arguably, one of the best head coaches and team of assistants in the country.

What more did Alabama have to prove to earn respect? At times, even stud RB Mark Ingram’s amazing year drew lukewarm praise from Heisman voters and pundits.

The message all season had been as clear as the BCS’ crystal football: Alabama would never be as good, as talented, as deserving, as fill-in-the-blank as Florida. No one would ever beat Tebow.

So to see “The Chosen One” shed tears as all his lofty hopes and dreams—to which I believe Florida and Tebow felt somewhat entitled—be crushed by the team virtually no one gave a chance was sweet, sweet victory.

And, thus, the cape is tattered, the halo, tarnished, and, no, he doesn’t walk on water.

If you want to believe in superheroes, hold on to those comic books, kids, because Alabama proved this so-called “Superman” just isn’t that super.