TEBOW: A Minnesota Viking?

  
   Adrian Peterson, ornamented in the mercurial boots of Hermes himself, dashing gallantly beyond the infectious ploy of a determined defense, while arguing his singular solace of adoring a scarce backfield, has been sweetly graced by an arsenal of boldacious blocking; specifically, Jerome Felton and T/E Rhett Ellison have architected a more SAFE passage for the gifted running back--not to crazily imply or say that Peterson can't do it alone!  My point:  Allow Tebow to block for Peterson--align the WICKED I; moreover, Tebow usurps Moose Johnston physically, surpassing a 6'2" 238 lbs. awesomeness by way of:  6'3" 245 lbs.--all approximates at the pinnacle of performance.  What I'm saying is that Tebow could probably take Daryl Johnston in a sense of combative anthropology.  As a result, Peterson might have genuine success behind Tebow--but that shit won't fly.
   Everybody loves the dance and dash of the charismatic Chris Johnson, him always offering a toothy smile gleamed with gold greatness, making the ebony ladies blush, and white ones too; nevertheless, watching the brutal Hulk known as Earl Campbell carry the pigskin should be a shimmering epiphany for Tebow.  Campbell:  5'11" 244 lbs.  My point:  The Great Houston Oiler adorned in something like a powder blue used ta', in hellacious fashion, offer direct impact upon defensive players, melting them down with the flowing lava of his Herculean stampede into their chest cavities.  Alas, Tebow could do this.  A bit taller than Campbell, around Eddie George size, Tebow has the theoretical possibility of damning defenders in Earl Campbell style.  The dude could do anything.  Fullback, Running back, End on either side of the ball.  Sure he might terribly injure himself and totally blow a chance at ever playing QB in the NFL; still, you don't put your best stallion in the stable.  An athlete of his caliber needs to play the game; moreover, chivalrously accept the humility of another position.  Tebow needs to get Saint Francis on himself, bleeding his bones to the ascetic core, morphing his mind mystical like Saint John of the Cross enduring a devilish Inquisition, accepting his rhino-like potency to powerfully play the game of football.  But I can't quit smoking cigarettes, so who the hell am I to say crap?

   Yes, Peyton Manning and little bro Eli (having the most talented hair dresser in football) are the best.  No doubt--pure passing poison against any NFL defense, Canadian too, perhaps.  They are the rocket arm.  Pete Sampras with the Big Serve.  But it bores you to death. I wanna see the late/great Steve McNair with his dodging dexterity.  Flutie dreaming Napoleonic.  This is exciting football.  Too, Michael Jordan always wanted to play baseball, yet his top-of-the-line talent glistened in the high pulse play of basketball.  I wanted to marry Britney Spears and ended up with the grocery clerk girl at WALGREENS.  We all have to make sacrifices.  The NFL needs good athletes--period.  Tebow should find a way, any way--to play the game.  For his fans.  For the Celestial Spangle of a Cosmic God birthing the luminous salvation of the Living Christ.  Every little boy wants to play the game.  But we are squirts.  Hence, we dream through these guys--I'm a fan, but that's it--and football matters damn't!
   Too, buy my books:  King's Books
   Sincerely, Mark David King