It’s no secret that Peyton Manning tends to shrink on the biggest stages. Despite his prolific passing records and scalpel-sharp football mind, the Sheriff is 13-13 in the playoffs, with just one Super Bowl ring in three trips. In his last Super Bowl, two years ago, despite possessing the greatest regular-season offense in NFL history, his Denver Broncos were crushed by the Seattle Seahawks in a 43-8 debacle.
So expectations are low as Manning returns for his fourth—and in all likelihood final—Super Bowl appearance, against the Carolina Panthers. Beaten down by injuries and Father Time, out six games this season with a partially torn plantar fascia in his left foot and sporting his worst statistics since his rookie season, Manning looks like a shell of himself. But he’s still Peyton Manning.
He’s no longer orchestrating a juggernaut scoring machine. Instead he’s game-managing a mediocre offense while Denver’s league-best defense closes out tough, tight games. Manning, who’s almost 40, will be the oldest starting quarterback in Super Bowl history. If he wins on Sunday, he’ll be the first QB to lead two separate teams to the title. That would be a nice feather in his cap, proof of his adaptability and mastery of the game.
Either way, Manning will go down as one of the two or three greatest quarterbacks of all time. He just won’t be the greatest. That was a viable question before Super Bowl 48, but no more, with the honor now belonging to Manning’s nemesis, Patriots QB Tom Brady, who last year defeated essentially the same Seahawks squad that demolished the Broncos in 2014. Nothing that happens on Sunday can push Manning back over Brady in the rankings, but it really doesn’t matter.
The narrative that Broncos GM John Elway has tried to write is the same one he authored at the end of his own career close to 20 years ago—an aging quarterback legend wins the Big Game and rides off into the sunset. But Manning isn’t even the main storyline of Super Bowl 50. Quarterback Cam Newton, this year’s likely MVP, is the new news, and his Carolina Panthers, fueled by youthful moxie and beatdowns of two quality teams in the playoffs, is expected to bring too much firepower for Manning and the Broncos to keep up. In this script, the aging QB legend will at best pass the torch to the Next Big Thing, or Cam and his boys will simply seize that torch. Either way, Manning will limp into retirement.
But here’s the irony: As Manning faces the last and biggest game of a Hall of Fame career, his foot hobbled, his arm strength gone, with no expectation of victory, he actually has his best chance of winning.
Denver’s hope, the commentators will tell you, lies on whether its defense can deliver one more masterful game and whether Manning can simply not screw up. No turnovers. Don’t throw deep. Win with guile and brains. But Peyton Manning as game manager won’t be enough. The Broncos defense is formidable but not unstoppable. It needs help. To win, it needs Peyton Manning to go for big plays, and make some.
We celebrate Manning for his maniacal, cerebral control at the line of scrimmage—part chess match, part theater—as he forensically examines defenses and adjusts his offense accordingly. But that control can often clamp down on him when the pressure rises, when the margin for error narrows and he can’t get out of his own way. That seems to be why he so often comes up short in the postseason.
To have a chance Sunday, Manning must play not only with his head but his heart. He must own his limitations, and disregard them. The accomplishments of a great artist or athlete are impressive not in spite of their deficiencies but because of them. Manning’s legacy is secure because we’ve accepted his shortcomings, win or lose. That’s what allows us to appreciate his considerable success.
Maybe Manning has finally accepted them, too. The most revelatory play he made against the Patriots two weeks ago wasn’t a laser-strike touchdown or an audible to beat the blitz. It was a rare, ugly-looking scramble for a first down. It was Peyton Manning doing something he never does on a broken play with a bum foot. It was Manning going off script, facing down his own weaknesses, to make a play.
That’s the recipe, Sheriff. On Sunday, there’s no need to be perfect. No need to worry about legacy. The key to summoning one last great performance? Don’t be afraid to fail.
Carolina Panthers vs. Denver Broncos February 7, 3:30 p.m., CBS.