Watching Tim Tebow run the read option for the Denver Broncos on Sundays has got to be one of the most gratifyingly bizarre spectacles in the modern history of the NFL. This is an offense that hasn't been allowed anywhere near the league in 30 years. This is an offense that high-school teams like to try when they run out of ideas. If this offense were attached to an automobile, it would be the 8-track player. Denver's option is nearly identical to the one Tebow ran so effectively as the quarterback at Florida. It relies on his uncanny ability to quickly read the movements of the defensive ends and linebackers to decide whether to keep the ball and run it or pitch it to the trailing back. The whole system essentially consists of three categories of plays: (1) Tebow gives the ball to a running back, (2) Tebow pretends to give the ball to a running back and throws it instead or (3) Tebow pretends to give the ball to a running back and then runs it himself. By mixing in various wrinkles and combinations of these plays, the Broncos have kept their opponents guessing—so far. The Broncos won their fourth straight game Sunday, taking down the San Diego Chargers in overtime. Once left for dead, they now trail Oakland by one game in the AFC West. As riveting as it is, Tebow's option has generated the same question in the minds of millions of fans. How long is it going to take for somebody on one of these defenses to break every bone in his body? The last NFL quarterback to run a similar offense was Bobby Douglass, who racked up more than 2,000 rushing yards for the Chicago Bears from 1969 to 1975, but had far less success throwing the ball. Most analysts (and really anyone who happens to have a functioning set of eyes) tends to think the option is a bad fit for the modern NFL—if only because its defensive players are bigger, faster and hit about 10 times harder. The common wisdom is that if a quarterback regularly runs the ball, he's going to get crushed. Historically, that's been true. Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Michael Vick, who is known for his running ability, has never completed a full NFL season without missing time due to injury. After winning a Super Bowl in 1995, San Francisco 49ers quarterback Steve Young, who was also known for running the football, had to sit out 11 games over the next five seasons before getting hit in the head so hard in 1999 he had to retire. Former Denver quarterback John Elway, who was himself a scrambler, also paid for it. In 1992, Elway took a blow to the shoulder while scrambling against the Giants. The Broncos lost the four games he missed as a result and failed to make the playoffs. The lesson: NFL quarterbacks are too valuable to run. So far, Tebow has shown a remarkable ability to absorb punishment. In Sunday's win over the San Diego Chargers, there were 20 hits on Tebow during the game—and a few of them were the sorts of brutal shots that an average running back would attempt to avoid. The worst one came at the end of the first quarter. On a second-and-9 on the San Diego 39, Tebow took a snap out of shotgun, faked a pitch right to running back Willis McGahee, then cut to the left and ran toward the line of scrimmage. Chargers outside linebacker Travis LaBoy grabbed Tebow's facemask and yanked his face down, preventing him from seeing in front of him. Defensive end Corey Liuget grabbed Tebow's shoulder pads and started pulling him down, but not before Vaughn Martin, a 300-pound defensive lineman, came barreling at Tebow with a full head of steam and used the crown of his helmet to pound Tebow like a veal cutlet. This is the kind of physical punishment that would make most people quit football entirely. But Tebow popped right up, seemingly unscathed. He was really upset that the officials didn't call the facemask penalty (he had a point—it was blatant). Undaunted, Tebow kept running the ball—and taking more concussive shots. At the end of the second quarter, he ran into a virtual wall when Takeo Spikes and LaBoy stopped him dead in his tracks after attempting a quarterback draw. In the third quarter, San Diego's 335-pound lineman Cam Thomas wrapped his arms around Tebow's waist and fell squarely on top of him. At the end of the fourth quarter, Tebow was dragged down on an option play. Antonio Garay, a 320-pound tackle, dove at Tebow's knees after he was already on the ground. On other plays, he had his ankles twisted and his body contorted in ways that made him look like a Cirque du Soleil performer. "The most amazing thing about it is his durability," says former quarterback Joe Theismann. "Because you wouldn't call him nifty." The Broncos' curious offensive strategy has a positive side effect: It helps their defense by shortening the game and giving them more time to rest. The Broncos defense has allowed only 36 combined points in their last three games. It also gives the Broncos a mathematical advantage. Since most quarterbacks rarely run the ball—and aren't very fast when they do—NFL defenses are generally only designed to account for 10 players. By running often, and constantly threatening to run, Tebow forces the defense to spread itself a bit thinner to account for all 11 players. The Tebow strategy could benefit from an NFL trend toward lighter, swifter defenders. This could mean less punishing hits from defenders geared toward stopping the pass. Theismann, who is now an NFL Network analyst, was the recipient of one of the most famous hits in NFL history—a blow from Lawrence Taylor that shattered his leg. He says he doubts any team will look to this strategy as a long-term option, if only because they'd never be able to find anyone to back up Tebow if he got hurt. "If you had three Tim Tebows, then you could think about it," he says.
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