By Ronald N. Guy Jr.
Two weeks have passed.
Much has already been said. I
should have moved on. The Broncos
won. Peyton Manning, in what was likely
his last NFL performance, delivered a fairy tale ending. The Sheriff’s riding off into the sunset with
a Lombardi Trophy in hand. Finito.
But the story is gnawing at me. So here it is, another Manning eulogy,
although different from most others. If
anyone deserves a lengthy farewell, it’s the NFL’s all-time leader in passing
yards, touchdown passes, Papa John’s franchises and goofy commercials. Manning’s earned the extraordinary
attention.
The persistent intrigue isn’t based on Manning’s
alleged HGH use. I’m a calloused veteran
of sports and PEDs now. It wouldn’t
surprise me if he did; very few people – in sports or life – are what they
seem. Besides, a definitive answer is
unlikely, so why expend the energy?
Manning’s on my mind because I don’t know what to make
of the supposed fairy tale ending, and I’m unconvinced the quarterback does
either. This wasn’t John Elway in Super
Bowl XXXIII - a final epic performance from one of the game’s great
quarterbacks. It wasn’t even a synonym
for the still capable, if not dominant, Ray Lewis’s Super Bowl XLVII farewell. Manning’s decline began last year, but he physically
disintegrated in 2015. A turnover
machine early in the season, Manning was mercifully shelved with a foot injury
in week 10. Until the regular season
finale, when a healthy Manning replaced an uninspiring Brock Osweiler in a
desperate attempt to win a critical game, it looked like the great quarterback would
exit the game as a backup. Instead, The
Sheriff won his second Super Bowl.
The fly in the fairy tale’s ointment is when Manning
returned, a different version took the field.
Consider these statistics. In
Manning’s eight complete regular season games this year, he averaged 38
attempts, 268 yards passing and 7.35 yards/attempt. His interception ratio was 4.43%. In Denver’s three playoff games, Manning
averaged 31 attempts, 180 yards passing and 5.9 yards/attempt. His interception ratio was 1.45%.
Do you see what happened? Manning’s attempts, length of throws and interceptions
were all down. This was intentional
management. Head coach Gary Kubiak
correctly concluded that Manning, a five-time MVP and one of the NFL’s greatest
quarterbacks, was now below average but still capable, if constrained, of avoiding
enough bad plays so as to let the all-world Broncos defense win the Super Bowl.
The question is what Manning thinks of all this. Is he thrilled for the career and legacy-preserving
lifeline or slightly annoyed at Kubiak’s manipulation of his final ride? The fairytale theory says the former. It postulates that Manning, the consummate teammate,
had accepted his obvious limitations. But
that would ignore the enormous and often reality-bending ego possessed by elite
athletes and, I think, the likelihood that this great victory was tinged with
some remorse.
Contemplating Manning’s situation triggered an
unexpected excursion into Buddhism’s three forms of pain/suffering or “Dukkha”:
physical (a broken arm), change (loss of a loved one, closing of a favorite
restaurant) or conditioned state (a situation where a pleasurable act can cause
pain in the midst of providing its pleasure).
That’s an extreme oversimplification of a complex concept, a consequence
of my very elementary knowledge, but the relationship to Manning’s situation is
obvious. Isn’t it reasonable to conclude
that Manning’s in the third state, meaning he found the playoff ride
pleasurable (as football is conditioned to be) while also feeling, in the midst
of the pleasure, disappointment for his incapacity to even be a facsimile of his
once-great self?
This isn’t a criticism of Manning but rather a
challenge to the conquering hero storyline.
As life unfurls, our relationships with people, things, professions and
interests evolve. This evolution can
increase the pleasure of experiences or complicate them with some level of
sorrow. Watching Manning’s Super Bowl
run, I saw a man struggling to resolve the gap between his past and present
abilities. At the sport’s apex, Manning had
reached an equally pleasurable and difficult crossroads in his relationship
with football. It was a fascinating
conclusion to a great career, if not the perfect fairy tale.
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