This is it. The one final gloriously prophetic storybook fairytale Hollywood ending. The Good Guy riding off into the sunset. The Prince living happily ever after.
In America’s eyes, Peyton Manning is a prince. He comes from a royal football family, he excels at America’s favorite game and his aw-shucks attitude could charm the most stonehearted curmudgeon. For those living outside of New England, he is everything we want our sports heroes to be. And everything short of an official announcement points to his retirement after Super Bowl 50.
What about those in New England states who have for over 15 years watched, with stomachs lurching, our fellow Americans gush over our biggest rival? How does a Patriots fan say goodbye to Peyton Manning? It’s complicated.
I want to quickly address a recent report by Al Jazeera America that a shipment of human growth hormone (a substance banned by the NFL) was sent to Manning’s wife in 2011, leading many to infer that Manning used the drugs for himself to help recover from recent neck surgery. Whether or not Manning used HGH, and I think it is more than likely that he did, my view of him remains the same. I truly do not think it would be so heinous as to alter my perception of his entire career.
But it bothers me when people use the nonsensical refrain with any fading star: “Hate him, or love him, you have to respect him,” as if I’m not allowed to criticize him. Why do I have to respect him? Yes, Peyton Manning was a great quarterback, perhaps in the upper echelon with the all-time greats, but is it forbidden to point out his flaws? Do I have to abide by some unwritten code that says certain players are untouchable?
Manning certainly did have flaws. Most notably, and what will forever be a dark cloud over his career, were his playoff failures. Of all the quarterbacks in NFL history, he has lost the most playoff games and has won only two as a visiting player. Nine times he has finished the playoffs one-and-done, losing the first game his team plays.
The obvious thing to do, even though I dislike the typical comparison debates, is to publish Manning’s career beside Tom Brady’s. From the start, the most jarring comparison, as Patriots’ fans must always flash like a VIP card, is the gap in Super Bowl wins between the two: Brady’s four to Manning’s one. Though I generally believe we use championship wins too freely as praise (or criticism) for sports stars, I do not think the comparison here is unfair. Instead of the actual outcomes of these games, it’s important to look at how they both played. And neither has been great.
All of Brady’s six Super Bowl appearances have been decided by four points or fewer, and really the difference between his having six wins and zero comes down to a handful of plays. But, though not dominant, he has given his team a chance to win. Even in his two losses, he left the field late in the fourth quarter with a lead.
The same can’t be said for Manning, whose two Super Bowl losses were not close. His interception to Saints’ cornerback Tracy Porter in Super Bowl XLIV took the Colts out of the game, and his Broncos’ once-dominant offense was embarrassingly non-existent against the Seahawks four years later. But, one could argue, Manning has beaten Brady in their last three playoff matchups, an argument that also is not unfair.
And on and on and on. It’s not necessarily splitting hairs, but debates like this don’t really matter. In essence, Brady controlled the early years of their rivalry, while Manning has made up ground in recent years. The real point, I think, is that both quarterbacks, both giants of the game, played at their peaks within the same era. That is pretty special. And that, as a Patriots fan, is what I will remember about Peyton Manning.
I will remember in the 2003 AFC Championship Game, with heart leaping, Manning’s misfire after misfire after misfire, his three interceptions to Patriots’ cornerback Ty Law (four in total), pushing New England closer and closer and finally into the Super Bowl.
I will remember the thrill, even giddiness, of the first glimpse of snow falling from the Foxborough sky before the Patriots’ and Colts’ 2004 postseason matchup, a sign from the Fates that this was not Manning’s day, that his notorious weakness in inclement weather would shine through. And I will remember New England’s dominance, holding Manning to 3 points and rolling over the Colts to claim its right as the best team in football.
I will remember, again with euphoria, Manning’s pass to Patriots’ cornerback Asante Samuel, who returned the interception for a touchdown, all but sealing New England’s win in the 2006 AFC Championship Game. And then the dread as Manning mechanically charged down the field, one drive after another, unstoppable and perfect, to overcome an 18-point deficit. I will remember most of all the horrible denial, the how-could-this-happen, the unhappy realization that, yes, Peyton Manning stole sure victory from New England’s grasp. That he, and not the Patriots, was going to the Super Bowl.
I will remember him fitting his throws perfectly into his receivers’ hands. Picking New England’s defense apart. Having way too much protection from his offensive line and having an unfair amount of time to throw the ball.
I will remember my sense of superiority over him slipping away with each of his victories over the Patriots.
When I think of the Patriots’ glory days, what first comes to mind is that 2004 playoff game in the snow-globe of Gillette Stadium. It stands out not because of the snow or the dominance or the great playoff victory—I have lived through enough of those. It stands out because New England beat Manning. This, at a time when comparisons of the two quarterbacks were heating up, was the ultimate achievement. To beat the one person who shared the podium of greatness, the one person who had any legitimate claim to the throne, meant New England had complete control of the sport.
When I remember Peyton Manning, through all of the uncontrollable joy and unbearable agony, I will think of him as the Patriots’ greatest competitor when they were at the top of the world.
He made victories sweeter and losses more painful. He made the games matter more. Peyton Manning may have been everything America wants in its sports heroes, but he was everything I needed in a rival. •
