He approaches the line of scrimmage. He steps back, points out a shift in the defence to his offensive line. Another step forward. He looks right, left, moves his running back a few feet. A step back, now. His arms flutter. Calling the cadence of the snap count, punctuated by a barked “Omaha!”, the ball snaps smartly into his hands, fired scant seconds later into the hands of his targeted receiver, far downfield.
Peyton Williams Manning, late of the Indianapolis Colts, now of the Denver Broncos, always resembled prose in motion. Son of one NFL quarterback, brother of another, Manning’s career is a testament to the ruthless pursuit of perfection. Over 16 seasons and counting, Manning has thrown 5,681 completed passes for a total of 66,812 yards – or 37.9 miles, or 61 kilometres, roughly the distance between York and Huddersfield.
And last night, he threw the 509th and 510th touchdown passes of his career, breaking the record held by retired quarterback Brett Favre – a man who was, in most respects, the complete opposite of Manning, a happy-go-lucky gunslinger whose reckless risk-taking sometimes careened into disaster.
These are not words you would associate with Manning. His buttoned-up image is the personification of what has become a corporate sports behemoth. It’s with good reason that people mock the initials of the National Football League as standing for the “No Fun League”. The NFL draws vehement criticism for being obsessed with how players behave on the field, banning the most anodyne of personal expressions, while being blind, deaf and mute to how its players act outside the gridiron.
For a league lately beleaguered by those off-field travails, last night’s record-setting performance by Manning proved a welcome tonic. For a sport whose tactics and strategies are dominated by numerical analysis, there’s a strange lack of reverence for its individual achievements; unlike baseball, most fans couldn’t tell you who the career leaders in various statistical categories. The sport, with rare exceptions, does not celebrate the individual pursuit of excellence. It prefers the glorification of the team, and the surrender of the individual to a greater whole, in pursuit of a greater good.
Sunday night was one of those rare occasions. Manning’s achievements are simply too majestic to ignore. Not only has he thrown more touchdown passes than anyone else, he ranks second in total yards, second in both completed passes and pass attempts, second in passer rating, and third in yards per game – and he is the league’s career leader in game-winning drives and fourth-quarter comebacks.
In the shattering of these milestones, Manning has surpassed every noteworthy quarterback of the last 50 years. Dan Marino, Joe Montana, Johnny Unitas – even Denver’s own John Elway, who remains the best-loved Bronco of them all, having spent his entire career with the team. The totality of his accomplishments are too staggering to dismiss, let alone ignore.
What makes the fulfilment of Manning’s duties even more astonishing is that they’ve come in the wake of him missing an entire season due to spinal fusion surgery. In the wake of the operation, it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t be able to play – ever again, let alone at the level the NFL demands.
His play since proves otherwise. Arriving in Denver, he took charge of a team desperate for a good quarterback. His performance has been nothing short of superlative. In his first season there, he led Denver to the best record in the conference, winning the league’s comeback player of the year award and turning a losing team around on a dime. In his second season, he won the Most Valuable Player award, and led the Broncos to the Super Bowl.
This season, the Broncos are 5-1. The team – like Manning – quietly hums along. It is a team constructed in his image: calm, smooth, not given to panic or rash decision-making. It is a team that sees nothing less than a Super Bowl victory as proper reward for its purposeful striving.
A second championship would indeed be a fit and proper reward for Manning. It is to this end – the winning of titles – that his singular gifts are dedicated. For a sport that prizes collective splendour, there can be no greater individual reward for Peyton Williams Manning – and it would draw him level with his younger brother, Eli, who has won two with the New York Giants.
