The last time I interviewed Jordan Hersom on location, he was wearing a Tim Tebow jersey.

That doesn’t exactly satisfy the mathematical definition of symmetry or meet the literary requirements of irony.

If you’re at all familiar with the two young men and the two careers in question, however, you can see the distant parallels.

Both are loosely defined as spread option quarterbacks but are better described, to borrow the vernacular from their generation, as ballers.

They’re football players, period. Fierce competitors. Superb athletes in the 99th percentile at their level. Proven, can’t-help-themselves winners.

Another common bond? Leavitt’s Hersom and Denver’s Tebow have this indefinable, it-factor quality: When you watch them play football, unless you set out to be a curmudgeonly jerk and concentrate upon it as if you’re being paid by the scowl, they will do something to make you smile.

Smiles are being exchanged by the thousands in their inner circles this weekend.

Hersom has been named one of three finalists for the Fitzpatrick Trophy, emblematic of the outstanding senior football player in Maine. Tebow continues to trample his detractors’ can’ts and shouldn’ts and leads the Broncos, winners of six straight, into battle this afternoon against Tom Brady and the New England Patriots.

They are living, running, throwing, blocking, exhorting proof that good guys still win. And they remind us that the easiest way to become a victorious good guy — despite all modern messages to the contrary — is coming from a good, honest family that instills the value of good, honest work.

If you’ve followed Maine high school football longer than a day or two, you are familiar with the Hersom family tree.

Lawrence “Doc” Hersom begat twin brothers Jim and John. Together, they won back-to-back Class A championships at Edward Little in the 1970s.

John coached at Morse, then Messalonskee, and finally Lawrence. He begat Mike, Tom and Jack. Mike and Tom starred for the 2005 Lawrence team that became only the second Pine Tree Conference school to win a Class A crown. Jack hoisted the Fitzy in 2007.

Jim coached at Brunswick, Livermore Falls and Edward Little, then stepped back to become an offensive coordinator at Leavitt. He begat Jordan, who plays and talks like a slightly taller experiment in human cloning. Together with head coach Mike Hathaway, those two quiet storms anchored an offense that dominated Eastern Class B the past three years.

Of course, it doesn’t always work out that way. I’ve known many sons of coaches who behaved like sons of you-know-what. They flaunted the lineage and some of the skill but sorely lacked either the humility or the desire or the courage to succeed.

I’ve also seen promising teams torn apart by one player’s stardom, either because he couldn’t handle it or his teammates couldn’t handle it or somebody’s mommy or daddy couldn’t handle it. I see it almost every year. Saw it this year, in fact.

Not at Leavitt, though. No chance. That’s a credit to Hersom and the disarming nature that makes him a born leader.

Like the inexplicably polarizing pro quarterback whose gear he wears when he’s not decked out in his own, Hersom consistently says and does all the right things.

Teammates cannot help but follow and admire him. The most jealous and skeptical fan could not help but genuinely like him.

As Tebow has demonstrated in Denver, winning the locker room is everything. If you are surrounded by 52 other guys who would step in front of a bus for you, God help the opposition.

Leavitt’s quarterback won that mantle more convincingly than his team has dominated the league in his fabulous four years.

He didn’t win it by being a Hersom. He won it by being Jordan.

His way. The right way. The old-fashioned way that is — at least in one proud, rural community and a certain mile-high city — making an overdue, welcome comeback.

— Kalle Oakes is a staff columnist. His email is [email protected].