There is something about Indianapolis Colts quarterback Peyton Manning that just gets people worked up. His singularly impressive statistics, his enormous contract, his ubiquitous TV commercials–all add up to, well, what exactly? To fans, he’s a telegenic superstar. To detractors, he’s overexposed and overrated. After all, he has never won the Super Bowl. Even after his finest moment as a pro, throwing for 347 yds. in a 38-34 comeback win over the archrival New England Patriots in the game that will give Manning a chance to win the big one, the critics can’t resist piling on. “Pretend he’s the only reason Indy won,” read a blog posting on the Sporting News website. “What a bunch of boobs. The only reason Indy won is because the defense stepped up.” Another argued, “Peyton needs to win the next game, or it’s a moot point.”
After Dallas Cowboys malcontent Terrell Owens, no NFL player elicits as much fan emotion as Manning. Love him, hate him–either way, he’s that transcendent athlete, perched in the public eye, who always gets a rise. And now he’s truly in the spotlight. After nine pro seasons of compiling stunning individual stats while his teams tasted postseason failure, Manning has his shot at a title: his high-octane Colts are favored to bounce the Chicago Bears in Super Bowl XLI, which will be played Feb. 4 in Miami.
There’s a lot to love about Manning, 30. The Colts are the most entertaining show in football. Manning’s darts to favorite target Marvin Harrison are reminiscent of the Montana-to-Rice pairing of the San Francisco 49ers in their heyday. And just watch Manning as he approaches the line of scrimmage before each down, sizing up the defense and then calling or changing the play just before the ball is snapped. To some it seems showy and egotistical, but only a true football intellect could handle the pressure. “I’ve heard people say, ‘Aw, that stuff he’s doing, he’s just talking, not doing anything,'” says NBC broadcaster and Hall of Fame coach John Madden. “Baloney.”
Manning is also a polished pitchman. In his myriad commercial campaigns–Sprint, MasterCard, DirectTV, ESPN–he manages to seem both sincere and dryly funny. “Mothers out there would buy milk from him,” says David Carter, executive director of the U.S.C. Sports Business Institute. “They’re not going to have a negative reaction to this guy.” Plus, the ads are genuinely entertaining. In a MasterCard commercial, Manning, reversing the roles of peppy fan and star athlete, shouts “You’re still the man” at a waitress who has dropped dishes, and tells a clumsy moving team, “All right, guys, they’re not saying boo. They’re saying moo-vers.” Even guys who live to crush him are impressed. “I love them,” Buffalo Bills linebacker Takeo Spikes says of the ads. “In your wildest imagination, you’d never know he had the kind of personality.”
Yet there’s no shortage of Manning haters. Why? Start with the TV spots’ saturation. “You know he did something to your favorite team,” says Spikes, understanding, though not agreeing with, the backlash against the ads, “and then you have to look at him after every commercial break.” Some fans are uncomfortable with a player who is so serious, and often sour, on the field morphing into a charmer on camera. “I find the marketing of his personality contrived,” says Spencer Wilking, 27, a Concord, Mass., native and Patriots devotee still reeling from the championship-game loss. “It rubs me the wrong way.”
Manning’s $98 million contract, which included a $34.5 million signing bonus, is another easy target. So is his birth into football royalty. While it’s true that Peyton Manning has worked hard to hone his God-given talent, it doesn’t hurt to have had a father like Archie Manning, the Ole Miss legend and New Orleans Saints standout quarterback. All the Manning boys are genetic freaks: younger brother Eli is a starting quarterback, though not an effective one for now, with the New York Giants, and older brother Cooper was slashing toward stardom before a spinal disorder ended his career (he’s now a successful businessman in New Orleans).
There is also still resentment toward the entire Manning clan over the way Eli manipulated the 2004 NFL draft, forcing the San Diego Chargers to trade him to the Giants because he refused to play for what was then a losing team. The Chargers still accuse the Manning family of meddling in the negotiations, though Archie has denied that. Eli has struggled for the Giants, while the quarterback for whom he was traded, Philip Rivers, made the Pro Bowl this year after leading the Chargers to a stellar season. It’s a small yet satisfying slither of revenge for the anti-Peyton army.
So there’s plenty to love, and loathe. But whatever you think of Manning, I would argue that it’s best to root against him in the Super Bowl. Yes, even among his fans. It’s Manning’s quest for that one missing part, that one imperfection, that will sustain our attention. “From a fan’s perspective, the joy is in the conversation,” says sports sociologist Jay Coakley, professor emeritus at the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs. “Peyton’s longing for a Super Bowl keeps the conversation going, and if he wins, that conversation stops.” In an age of sports parity, in which seven teams have won World Series titles this decade and about a dozen NFL teams were fighting for playoff spots during the last weeks of the season, we can use a dramatic story line.
Did anyone really want to see Charlie Brown kick that football (thanks for the reflexes, Lucy)? Would Ernie Banks, the smiling Mr. Cub chortling “Let’s play two,” be as beloved if the Cubs were winners? Is the sports world really a better place since the Boston Red Sox overcame their “curse” and in 2004 finally won the World Series?
Peyton need look no further than his father for another player who charmed fans through losing. Poor ol’ Archie Manning would have been a Hall of Famer if those Nawlins ‘Aints had had any good players. But if Archie had won a Super Bowl, he would be another Bob Griese. Bor-ing.
With a fat salary and that “laser-rocket arm” he winks at in a Sprint commercial, Peyton Manning will never be like us. But his championship failure delivers some connection. “It gives us an entry into his humanity, his vulnerability,” says Coakley. “He isn’t perfect, despite the fact he’s so damn good.” Peyton’s brother Cooper naturally disagrees with any such rationale for cheering on the Bears, who–despite featuring a frighteningly inconsistent quarterback, Rex Grossman–have the type of defense that can shut down Peyton. “Average Joes want heroes,” Cooper says. “Average Joes want guys that are better than them.” We already know that Peyton is better than we are, Cooper. But does he have to have it all?
