Deion Sanders is an exception of biblical proportions | Whitley

Deion Sanders was in not-so-rare form after Colorado beat TCU last Saturday. The 45-42 win wasn’t just an upset, it was a huge plate of crow for all of the skeptics.

Sanders, of course, was glad to serve it up.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on! Oh, no, no, no,” he said as a reporter who tried to ask a question. “Do you believe now?”

Sanders sounded more like a tent-revival preacher football coach. It was time for non-believers to confess the sin of doubting Coach Prime.

He has made a career out of proving skeptics wrong, but Colorado is his most astounding trick. Everything else flowed from Sanders’ supernatural athletic skills.

Coaching is a different ballgame. Or at least it was supposed to be. Then Sanders roared into Boulder and blew up the entire program as only Deion would dare.

He essentially fired all the old players, telling them he was bringing in his own Louis Vuitton luggage. He introduced his son – let’s call him Shedeur Vuitton – as the new starting quarterback.

“We coming,” Sanders pronounced to the football world.

About 98% of that world openly and privately scoffed. Coach Prime would get his comeuppance when the Buffaloes ran into last year’s playoff runner-up.

There was a comeuppance, all right.

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“We told you we coming,” Sanders blared. “You thought we was joking. And guess what? We keep receipts.”

As a longtime Deionologist, I don’t know whether to laugh along with Sanders or shake my head in resignation. My first glimpse of Sanders came on his first day of practice at FSU.

Even though that 1985 freshman class was full of studs, the kid from Fort Myers was exceptional. He quickly evolved into Prime Time - part athletic phenom, part showman. The ensuing four decades through college, the NFL and Major League baseball have been fascinating and perplexing.

I always preferred humility over braggadocio. Give me Walter Payton tossing the ball back to the ref after scoring a touchdown over some dude dancing like a Rockette after catching a first-down pass.

Not that my stylistic preferences matter, of course. What makes them relevant is Sanders’ belief system.

“My faith is everything,” he said. “It’s the gas that propels the courage, the truth that keeps me going.”

I’m not questioning Sanders’ sincerity. Colorado officials actually had to reign in his team prayers after an anti-religion group protested this spring.

Coach Prime knows his scripture. He just doesn’t seem to have ever read the many parts about humility, forgiveness and pride going before a fall.

After years of waiting for a hint of those, I figured God made Sanders an exception to his rules. Deion could draw dollar signs in a Major League batter’s box dirt and not risk The Almighty's wrath. Though that stunt darned sure didn’t sit well with traditionalists like Carlton Fisk.

“If you don’t start playing this game right,” the Hall of Fame catcher said, “I’m going to kick your butt right here.”

Ol’ Pudge was probably pulling for TCU on Saturday. But he was probably begrudgingly giving Sanders his props.

How could you not?

The Buffaloes went 1-11 last season. Sanders didn’t invent the transfer portal. He just mercilessly used it to his advantage.

Throw in his Prime Time persona, and you don’t just have a rebuilding project. You have a coaching revolution.

“We’re going to continue to be questioned because we do things that have never been done, and that makes people uncomfortable,” Sanders said. “When you see a confident Black man sitting up here talking his talk, walking his walk, coaching 75 percent African Americans on his roster, that’s kind of threatening. Oh, they don’t like that!

“But guess what? We’re going to consistently do what we do, because I’m here, and I ain’t going nowhere. And I’m about to get comfortable.”

As impressive as his first Power Five coaching afternoon was, some laws of football gravity should still apply to Sanders. We may see them in the next month when Colorado plays Oregon and USC.

But regardless of what happens next, it’s hard not to now confess:

I believe Colorado is coming.

I believe in Coach Prime.

And I believe if pride really does go before a fall, Sanders better pray that God isn’t keeping receipts.

David Whitley is The Gainesville Sun's sports columnist. Contact him at dwhitley@gannett.com. Follow him on Twitter @DavidEWhitley

This article originally appeared on The Gainesville Sun: Deion Sanders is making believers in classic Prime Time fashion