Peyton Manning retired yesterday. He went out on top, winning Super Bowl 50, but he went out. He called it a career, something I never saw coming when I fell in love with him and his game 12 years ago.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was watching a random NFL game as a 10-year-old in January 2004. The Colts were playing the Patriots for the AFC title. It was snowing.
“That’s Eli’s brother,” my dad said as he pointed out the Colts’ quarterback.
Eli Manning had just led the Rebels to a Cotton Bowl victory and was closer to God in my 10-year-old brain than any other human should be.