"So how 'bout Kurt Warner, huh?" my friend Robbie asked from the other end of the landline. I had not seen nor spoken to Robbie in nearly a year, as he and his family recently had moved to the next town over—what felt like light-years away at that age—and he had caught me off guard almost immediately into the first conversation to rekindle our friendship, a process that would continue to be held in abeyance after the perplexing question. "Who the heck is that?" I retorted, as if that name was supposed to mean something to me.

Robbie was well aware of my sports fanaticism, as well as my wealth of knowledge for both prominent and obscure professional athletes; suffice it to say he was surprised that I hadn't recognized the cryptic name, as he responded by giving me a vague description of the stranger, saying basically that he was that guy—the quarterback for the Rams actually—who was having a great season. I was baffled; I didn't get it; it was a name that I had never before heard.

Our conversation ended soon after that, and still peeved, I went immediately to my father who knew everything: "Dad, who is Kurt Warner?" He barely took his eyes off the book he was reading and from his grandiose leather recliner nonchalantly responded: "He's that guy, the quarterback for the Rams; he's having a great season." From Robbie to my father, apparently that's all I needed to know about the newest entry into my cerebral rolodex of sports figures.

Had my father been able to tell the future at the time however, his explanation of who exactly Kurt Warner was undoubtedly would have been far more profound, and had it been excerpted, probably would have looked something like this: "He's that guy, the quarterback for the Rams, and he's having a great season. You will root for him in the Super Bowl against the Titans this year when he completes one of the most heartwarming stories in sports history. Over the next three years, you will watch in awe as he tears apart the most potent of defenses, in orchestration of the Greatest Show on Turf. And you will buy his jersey and proudly wear it to the first middle school dance, and will use it as a tissue after your girlfriend's girlfriends come up to you to tell you it's over."

This Sunday, in case you don't already know, Warner will be playing in his third career Super Bowl, leading the Cinderella Arizona Cardinals into battle in Tampa Bay against the AFC Champion Pittsburgh Steelers. But surprisingly, it is not the anticipation of the big game (that may go down as the most random, unpredictable big game ever), nor who will win, that has been so alluring these past two weeks as much as the prophecy that was issued by a myriad of the game's enthusiasts almost immediately after 'Zona downed Donovan McNabb's Eagles, and one in which numerous members of the sports media still remain on the fence about: Kurt Warner will one day be inducted into the Pro-Football Hall of Fame. (Gasp).

I know what you're thinking: the guy came into the league too late, and while he's had some success, a couple of great seasons isn't enough to compensate for the five years of virtual nothingness he experienced from 2002 to 2006...unless, however, he can win on Sunday. To be fair, Warner did come onto the NFL scene at the uncommon age of 28 in 1999, shuffled between three different teams and lost his starting job to six different quarterbacks during the five-year nadir of his career, and may not win the game on Sunday. But when you examine his career as a whole, from his raw numbers to his remarkable contributions to the game, none of that should really matter, especially not Sunday's outcome, because regardless of what happens, Kurt Warner deserves his customized bust in Canton.

The 37-year-old veteran not only will become the third oldest quarterback to start the big game, but also will become just the second quarterback in NFL history to start Super Bowls for different teams (Craig Morton did it with the Cowboys in 1970 and the Broncos in 1977; he lost both games). And that in itself, when you really think about it, is as incredible and impressive a feat as there is. Just consider the unlikelihood of a quarterback starting Super Bowls for two different teams over the course of a career: if the quarterback leads his team to the Super Bowl and performs well the first time, chances are that team will do everything in their power to lock that player up for several years so as to preserve the team's chances of returning to the NFL Title Game in the future (see Jake Delhomme). And if the quarterback leads his team to the Super Bowl and does not perform well, odds are that team will still try to bring back that player, until the club finally realizes that he wasn't the reason they had been there in the first place, and opt to let him walk, at which point for the quarterback, it's too late in the game (see Drew Bledsoe and Kerry Collins). I guess it's no wonder that this phenomenon will have happened only twice in history: it's virtually inconceivable and nearly impossible; just not for Warner.

The man who has always prided himself on being the underdog, will find himself in a similar situation in five to 10 years when it comes time for the Board of Selectors in Ohio to decide his worthiness among the game's elite. And although his resume does have the one abysmal gap, luckily for Warner, it also boasts a plethora of scintillating awards and figures. His career completion percentage of 65.4 ranks only second to the Dolphins' Chad Pennington, his career passer rating of 93.8 comes in fourth behind Steve Young, Peyton Manning, and Tony Romo, and he has been almost perfect in the playoffs owning a 97.3 postseason passer rating, slightly better than Joe Montana. He's won two regular season MVPs (1999, 2001; one of five to do so), will have played in three Super Bowls by Sunday's end (and perhaps have won two of them), and has 182 career touchdown passes to Hall of Famer Troy Aikman's 165, not to mention a trademarked rags to riches fairytale from stocking soup at his local grocery store, to quarterbacking a championship football team that we all have come to know, love, and embrace. He never misses an opportunity to thank the Lord and his son Jesus Christ for his successes, he's always open, optimistic, and honest in front of the media, and off the field he is a true family man. Quite simply, Warner is as genuine as they come (as if we didn't already know that). And in addition to his sheer talent and the timely throw that he always seems to make, it is perhaps Warner's faith, resiliency, and lighthearted attitude that has propelled him through an amazing career.

So let the debaters debate and the talkers talk about why he should be denied his deserved coronation among football legends. Warner in the meantime will be focused on the task at hand: winning Super Bowl XLIII. He might have to worry about politics later, except that he won't have to: win or lose, he's in.