A few weeks ago, I never thought I’d see Peyton Manning take another snap, much less throw another pass or another touchdown.
Much less win another playoff game.
Much less defeat Tom Brady, Bill Belichick, and the New England Patriots to win another AFC Championship. (Unbelievably, after all the drama, Peyton will end his career 3-2 against Brady & Belichick’s Patriots in the playoffs.)
Much less get one final start in Super Bowl 50.
You’ll have to excuse me for starting and stopping this blogpost numerous times over the last few weeks and for, honestly, not really even knowing where to start as I type right now.
You’ll have to excuse me for skipping any Super Bowl parties you’ve invited me to. I have to watch this one at home in my Peyton jersey with my son, in his Peyton jersey. It’s safe to say Palmer will wear one of my old Peyton jerseys as well. (For my son’s first Halloween in 2014, my son wore his Broncos Peyton jersey, my wife wore my old Tennessee Peyton jersey, and I wore one of my old Colts Peyton jerseys.)
You’ll have to excuse me for any emotional outbursts I’ve made in the last few weeks if you asked me about Peyton.
The fact of the matter is this: when Peyton inevitably hangs up his cleats after Super Bowl 50, I’m not sure I’ll ever cheer as hard for another athlete for the rest of my life.