Entering The Mind Of Peyton Manning

Brett Favre was the John Wayne of the NFL and as American as apple pie. His tale is already the stuff of Ruthian legend. Brett learned football on the alligator-infested mad flats of Mississippi. He made grown men weep with that Monday Nighter after his dad died. If you wanted pinpoint accuracy, you would have watched Drew Brees or Aaron Rodgers. But if you wanted a rough-and-tumble quarterback to love for all his virtues and vices, Brett Favre was your man.

To air-it-out is human; to forgive is divine. America worshiped Brett Favre not simply because he was a throwback gunslinger with an NFL record for TD passes and passing yards. We empathized with Brett Favre for his misfires, too: the painkiller addiction; the most interceptions in NFL history, the weekly what-was-he-thinking pick and those interminable will-he-or-won’t-he retirement sagas. We admired Brett Favre because even at age 40 he had that childish glint in his eye as he dashed down the field after yet another TD bomb. Favre was more human. His derring-do and kid-in-a-candy-shop glee may have been more endearing but he was certainly more error-prone.

America loved Brett Favre, but they respected Peyton Manning. Manning was more robotic. Coldly calculating. Youngsters would pretend that they are you in the backyards across the Heartland. That last second audible; the hike. The short, choppy steps in the pocket. Buying time before unfurling another spiral to Reggie Wayne for six.

But, like Favre, you will come up short in lazy Sunday afternoon hypotheticals: If you had one to win one game…

A legend of the game but… 11 Pro Bowls, 4 NFL MVPs, 54,828 yards passing, 399 TDs, but 1 Super Bowl ring… But Brady won three… But you only beat Rex Grossman… But that pick six against the Saints… But you weren’t clutch…

But there are still those what-ifs: if you come back; if you win another ring. All of a sudden, you’re back in the conversation. You won’t have four rings, but Elway didn’t either. He won two and rode off into the sunset.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Boss will sit you down for a chat any day now.

A couple icebreakers about Eli. Maybe a snide quip or two about the Patriots. Jim Irsay will hem and haw about the franchise and how no one is bigger than the Horseshoe. And then he’ll get down to brass taxes: so, about that $28 million signing bonus March 6.

You’re like family, he’ll wince. That’s what makes this so difficult. We’re taking Andrew Luck. He’ll thank you for thirteen glorious years, NFL relevancy and the Super Bowl title. But he’s thinking about the next thirteen, he’ll say. He’s thinking no one is bigger than the Horseshoe. And that’s why he’s releasing you.

Your agent says all the right things publicly and feeds a starved sports media nothing but milquetoast platitudes and clichés: There is “no short list.” You are taking it “day-by-day.”

But then you put back a few tall ones with Archie and the sugarcoated answers just melt away.

You are Peyton Manning. Where do you want to go?

6. Washington Redskins: Two games a year against baby bro. Dan Snyder would let you name your price. But who do you throw to? Fred Davis is tough, sure. But the leading wide receiver last year? The Jabar Gaffney.

Signing with Dan Snyder is a Michael Bay blockbuster in waiting. Lots of hype. Lots of smoke. A cast of overpaid, aging stars all combined into an unwatchable final product with a second half collapse.

5. New York Jets: Sure, you can carpool with Eli. Rack up the New York City endorsements. But you do mellow coaches, not the loud-mouth ones who flip off fans and marry wives with foot fetishes.

4. Miami Dolphins: A warm weather city and no state income tax if you care about that sort of thing. Owner Stephen Ross is reportedly “infatuated” with you. And it’s only a short private jet away from New Orleans or Knoxville.

Sure, Miami wasn’t really a contender, but the pieces are there. There’s Jake Long protecting your blind side for the next half decade. Or taking your pick between deep bombs to Brandon Marshall or screens to Reggie Bush. And then there are those two shots at Brady a year.

3. Dallas Cowboys: A dark horse candidate. Jerry Jones is a loyal guy. He loves Tony Romo to a fault. But again, you are Peyton Manning.

At the same time, you’ve had your fill with mercurial owners. And Jerry Jones couldn’t relinquish calling the shots. Even if you are Peyton Manning.

2. Arizona Cardinals: The cushiest pick of all in the softest of divisions. At a minimum, ten games a year indoors. Four games versus the hapless Rams and Seahawks could be just what the doctor ordered. And besides, your old QB coach is already there. See also: Fitzgerald, Larry.

1. Houston Texans: New Rule: If you can beat them…join them. Especially when they have Andre Johnson.

The Texans advanced to the divisional playoffs with a third string rookie quarterback. Imagine what they could do with you.

Plug you in at quarterback, deal Matt Schaub for a first round pick or top-flight wide receiver, and you are the clear favorite in a strikingly thin AFC.

You already know the division inside and out. And with two grudge matches a year against the Colts, you can get the old Boss to finally shut-up.