With Peyton Manning returning to Indianapolis, I've decided to re-run two things I wrote about the Manning era in Indianapolis. First, my initial reaction to Manning's release in March, 2012.
Now I wish I never even added Big News #3 to Friday's post, the one regarding that amateur footage of Peyton throwing at Duke. It pains me to beyond belief that the last video footage of Manning throwing with that blue horseshoe helmet on will be that footage. I'll have the memories, but I can't escape the reality.
The greatest QB I have ever seen is no longer going to be playing QB for my team. The man who literally built football in Indiana. The man without whom that stadium isn't built, the careers of Bill Polian and Tony Dungy aren't fortified enough so they enter Canton, and my personal list of favorite sports memories is 1,000 memories shorter. He's gone. He's coming back, but just like when I watched Roy Oswalt in that Phillies uniform, it won't be the same. Hell, I'll root for him hard. I want him to win the next three Super Bowls. I want him to get the recognition he deserves, the universal acceptance of just how incredible he was. I realize the best way for him to do that would be outside of Indianapolis anyway, but that definitely doesn't make it any easier. Peyton Manning is gone. An institution in the NFL is over. And all I can think is I wish I appreciated it more.
Football, and sports in general, is a weird thing. Even though 99% of the games come with no trophy attached, the only game that inevitably one cares about are the ones that do. This should not be the case. I wish I could forget about the heartbreak that I had to face in the games that "matter" and remember the brilliance in the games that lead up to the games that "matter". But that is the issue. The games in September and October and November matter as well. I have to learn to realize this. That the happiness I derive from my team winning, as well as the depression that comes from my team losing, should not be disproportionately represented by what happened in January.
One of my favorite Colts bloggers, Nate Dunlevy, had a post this past season where he talked about the idea of a "Happy Sunday." That the true implicit worth of a team to a fan is the happiness that that team gives. If the team gives their fans more "Happy Sundays" than not, that team is doing its job. Sure, some Sundays can give more happiness than others, but at the end of each week, did your football team make you happy? That is the only question that matters. For 7 straight years, Peyton Manning gave us a Happy Sunday at least 12 times. I think Manning's injury last year made me really appreciate this idea, that every Happy Sunday you get should be remembered, cherished. It hit me when I was watching Dan Orlovsky lead a 2-minute drill to upset the Texans in Week 16. That game meant nothing. The Colts were floundering worse than anyone expected without Manning, and the Texans were locked into the #3 seed. But I got into it. I was locked in, focused on the Colts for the first time all year. I was given, in that case, a Happy Thursday, but still, the first one I truly enjoyed in the regular season in a while. The first one I thought I could look back on 5 years from now and love.
See, when I look back at all those memorable Manning moments, like the 21 point comeback against the Bucs in 2003, or the greatest passing offense I have ever seen in 2004, or the beatdown of New England in Foxboro in 2005, or the run of great, dramatic moments like winning in Heinz Field in 2008, or the drama of 4th & 2 in 2009, my mind inevitably races past all of that to the fact that all of those seasons for the Colts were 'doomed.' That encompassing those isolated moments of pure joy was a harrowing playoff loss. Those playoff losses for a time ruined those great moments. I mean, 'What's the point of Bill Belichick gambling for it on 4th and 2 if Hank Baskett is going to try to pick up an onside kick three months later?' I would say to myself. The idea of "Happy Sundays" changed all of that.
When I first accepted that Manning was not coming back (sometime in January) it became easier. I can't look forward to Manning bringing Indianapolis another Super Bowl, getting redemption for that loss in Super Bowl XLIV, a loss that haunts me more and more each month. I can't look forward to the next ridiculous comeback. I can only look back now if I want to think about Manning as a Colt. I can only look back, and finally open up that treasure chest of great Manning moments. I can finally start to enjoy Manning's awesome moments un-tethered, because for once, I know that no matter how much I want that redemption, Manning is done in a Colts uniform. This is all he had to give us, and damn was it special.
Peyton Manning won't be a Colt, and I fear that his legacy in Indianapolis will never be truly appreciated by those outside Indy. Had the team just won that game against the Saints, all of this would be different. Everyone would have had to accept him, other than those idiots who think that Terry Bradshaw is the greatest, and therefore, Manning needs more than two rings. I fear people won't remember the Manning era as what it was. People will remember it like the Marino era, and I'm sure the Miami fans do look back with great joy at those years with Marino, but this is different. Miami had great football before Dan Marino. Miami had achieved perfection without Marino. Indianapolis had achieved nothing other than some close, flukey wins by an average team in 1995. Peyton Manning made the Colts. But most of all, as a football fan, he made me.
I probably would have still been a football fan without Peyton, but I would have never been this knowledgeable. I would have never known just how great a QB can be. If I hadn't seen him struggle against Bill Belichick's defenses in the 2003 and 2004 Playoffs, I probably don't know how good a defense and great coaching could be. If I hadn't seem him overcome such incredible odds to win some of those games, I might not believe in comebacks the way I do. If I hadn't seen him unfairly slammed by awful media personalities for not winning enough as an individual in a team sport, I might not realize how bad and low-base a lot of the main-stream media is. If not for Peyton Manning, I would not love football the way I do. And it is time to make sure I use that love to do what is best, remember Peyton for the wins, for the joy, for the brilliance, and for giving me way too many "Happy Sundays."
All Good Things...
Now I wish I never even added Big News #3 to Friday's post, the one regarding that amateur footage of Peyton throwing at Duke. It pains me to beyond belief that the last video footage of Manning throwing with that blue horseshoe helmet on will be that footage. I'll have the memories, but I can't escape the reality.
The greatest QB I have ever seen is no longer going to be playing QB for my team. The man who literally built football in Indiana. The man without whom that stadium isn't built, the careers of Bill Polian and Tony Dungy aren't fortified enough so they enter Canton, and my personal list of favorite sports memories is 1,000 memories shorter. He's gone. He's coming back, but just like when I watched Roy Oswalt in that Phillies uniform, it won't be the same. Hell, I'll root for him hard. I want him to win the next three Super Bowls. I want him to get the recognition he deserves, the universal acceptance of just how incredible he was. I realize the best way for him to do that would be outside of Indianapolis anyway, but that definitely doesn't make it any easier. Peyton Manning is gone. An institution in the NFL is over. And all I can think is I wish I appreciated it more.
Football, and sports in general, is a weird thing. Even though 99% of the games come with no trophy attached, the only game that inevitably one cares about are the ones that do. This should not be the case. I wish I could forget about the heartbreak that I had to face in the games that "matter" and remember the brilliance in the games that lead up to the games that "matter". But that is the issue. The games in September and October and November matter as well. I have to learn to realize this. That the happiness I derive from my team winning, as well as the depression that comes from my team losing, should not be disproportionately represented by what happened in January.
One of my favorite Colts bloggers, Nate Dunlevy, had a post this past season where he talked about the idea of a "Happy Sunday." That the true implicit worth of a team to a fan is the happiness that that team gives. If the team gives their fans more "Happy Sundays" than not, that team is doing its job. Sure, some Sundays can give more happiness than others, but at the end of each week, did your football team make you happy? That is the only question that matters. For 7 straight years, Peyton Manning gave us a Happy Sunday at least 12 times. I think Manning's injury last year made me really appreciate this idea, that every Happy Sunday you get should be remembered, cherished. It hit me when I was watching Dan Orlovsky lead a 2-minute drill to upset the Texans in Week 16. That game meant nothing. The Colts were floundering worse than anyone expected without Manning, and the Texans were locked into the #3 seed. But I got into it. I was locked in, focused on the Colts for the first time all year. I was given, in that case, a Happy Thursday, but still, the first one I truly enjoyed in the regular season in a while. The first one I thought I could look back on 5 years from now and love.
See, when I look back at all those memorable Manning moments, like the 21 point comeback against the Bucs in 2003, or the greatest passing offense I have ever seen in 2004, or the beatdown of New England in Foxboro in 2005, or the run of great, dramatic moments like winning in Heinz Field in 2008, or the drama of 4th & 2 in 2009, my mind inevitably races past all of that to the fact that all of those seasons for the Colts were 'doomed.' That encompassing those isolated moments of pure joy was a harrowing playoff loss. Those playoff losses for a time ruined those great moments. I mean, 'What's the point of Bill Belichick gambling for it on 4th and 2 if Hank Baskett is going to try to pick up an onside kick three months later?' I would say to myself. The idea of "Happy Sundays" changed all of that.
When I first accepted that Manning was not coming back (sometime in January) it became easier. I can't look forward to Manning bringing Indianapolis another Super Bowl, getting redemption for that loss in Super Bowl XLIV, a loss that haunts me more and more each month. I can't look forward to the next ridiculous comeback. I can only look back now if I want to think about Manning as a Colt. I can only look back, and finally open up that treasure chest of great Manning moments. I can finally start to enjoy Manning's awesome moments un-tethered, because for once, I know that no matter how much I want that redemption, Manning is done in a Colts uniform. This is all he had to give us, and damn was it special.
Peyton Manning won't be a Colt, and I fear that his legacy in Indianapolis will never be truly appreciated by those outside Indy. Had the team just won that game against the Saints, all of this would be different. Everyone would have had to accept him, other than those idiots who think that Terry Bradshaw is the greatest, and therefore, Manning needs more than two rings. I fear people won't remember the Manning era as what it was. People will remember it like the Marino era, and I'm sure the Miami fans do look back with great joy at those years with Marino, but this is different. Miami had great football before Dan Marino. Miami had achieved perfection without Marino. Indianapolis had achieved nothing other than some close, flukey wins by an average team in 1995. Peyton Manning made the Colts. But most of all, as a football fan, he made me.
I probably would have still been a football fan without Peyton, but I would have never been this knowledgeable. I would have never known just how great a QB can be. If I hadn't seen him struggle against Bill Belichick's defenses in the 2003 and 2004 Playoffs, I probably don't know how good a defense and great coaching could be. If I hadn't seem him overcome such incredible odds to win some of those games, I might not believe in comebacks the way I do. If I hadn't seen him unfairly slammed by awful media personalities for not winning enough as an individual in a team sport, I might not realize how bad and low-base a lot of the main-stream media is. If not for Peyton Manning, I would not love football the way I do. And it is time to make sure I use that love to do what is best, remember Peyton for the wins, for the joy, for the brilliance, and for giving me way too many "Happy Sundays."
