Tim Tebow Is Living The Salad Days, As They Say

In a sport full of quarterbacks whose actions are informed by a week of film study and five seconds of frenetic, obsessive calculation, Tim Tebow plays with the single-mindedness and impatience of a chunk of granite falling off its ledge into a dynamite-blown valley. He wants the ball in the end zone, so it seems prudent to... make a beeline and run directly to the end zone.

And every time this works, I'm reminded of this scene:

It looks like what we thought football was when we were five years old. It's a little more sophisticated than that, of course -- Tebow looks for an opening, and his teammates' blocks are usually designed. But when he performs runs like Thursday night's 20-yard game-winner, even when he succeeds, I look at it, and strangely, I somehow get the impression that he doesn't understand football.