[Please stop comparing Peyton Manning to John Unitas and Joe Montana...and get rid of domes and artificial turf...then we'll see how many records Peyton breaks. Oh, and by the way, great leaders don't hang their heads and pout like little school girls at the first hint of adversity...can anyone imagine John Unitas ever displaying such behavior? - jtf]
The New York Times
Published: January 17, 2005
Foxboro, Mass.-
It is one thing being the prettiest quarterback, another to be the grittiest. It is one thing to be the coolest cat around from the comfort of one's carpet, another to conquer the conditions of the cold, cruel world.
Wasn't this the year Manning had too much arm power for even Bill Belichick's brainpower? Wasn't Manning, the quarterback who amazed us with a record 49 touchdown passes this season, finally going to have Tom Brady's number? Instead, he was humbled again by those killer B's - Belichick and Brady - and another persistent opponent, Mother Nature, which cannot be lured and vanquished indoors.
One Mike Vanderjagt field goal. Three lousy points. That's what the Colts' Manning-led offense put on the board in a 20-3 defeat against the defending champion Patriots at frosty Gillette Stadium. This, after the blizzard of offense the Colts unleashed, indoors, on the Denver Broncos last week. This, after Manning's 4,557 regular-season passing yards, 67.6 completion percentage, a mere 10 interceptions, the record-shattering 49 touchdown passes, 6 in one game, 5 in three others.
Against the rest of the league, especially back in Indianapolis, dome sweet dome, Manning is obviously the chosen one, the audible king. Is it unfair at this point to say he is something much less than that in the icy open-air arena, where real football legends are made?
"I've always believed that a player does kind of define himself," Manning said after failing to complete a pass longer than 18 yards. "I've kind of changed those thoughts because there are so many opinions and experts about me and my career. I've just stopped trying to define myself."
This isn't baseball, where pitchers have the ability to dominate an opponent all by their lonesome. Manning's defense didn't have the staying power in the second half to contain Corey Dillon, who ran for 144 yards. A couple of lost footballs to Patriots inside linebacker Tedy Bruschi didn't help. A holding penalty killed another drive. But the expectation comes with the territory, whether you are Chad Pennington trying to prove you can win a big game or Manning, now shouldering the burden of demonstrating that he can reach the biggest game.
His coach, Tony Dungy, dismissed the talk of Manning being on his way to Marinoville, to a Hall of Fame but Super Bowl-less career. He reminded everyone of the doubts people had about Steve Young, about John Elway, before they punctuated their individual Hall of Fame credentials. Michael Jordan didn't win an N.B.A. championship until his seventh season. This was Manning's seventh season.
Of course, it's still early, but this was the year Manning broke Marino's single-season touchdown record, and yesterday that meant nothing. Even factoring in the quality of the opponent, the contrast from one week to another, inside to out, was remarkable. The Colts looked like a more celebrated A.F.C. version of the Vikings. If that is what they ultimately are, mustn't Manning's personal achievements be viewed somewhat like a slugger who jacks them out of a bandbox?
These are the standards Manning has set for himself. And these were not even the defensive Patriots of 2003, who intercepted him four times in last year's A.F.C. title game. Belichick was missing his starting cornerbacks, Ty Law and Tyrone Poole, as well as the stalwart defensive lineman Richard Seymour. Another wintry presence, the reserve cornerback Earthwind Moreland, was on the inactive list, unavailable to help fire up the elements.
"Most other times when you have starters down and you are missing some Pro Bowlers, you really sort of lick your lips," Manning said. He shook his head ruefully. With the Patriots, he added, "it seems like it doesn't really matter who is in there."
At least not in this venue, at this time of year. Not with the slight snow in a gentle wind that began to fall, on cue, just before 4 p.m., just as the afternoon light began to fade. In the stadium lights, the swirl looked more like a smoky haze. Welcome to the Patriots' house, the New England skies seemed to be saying.
Manning and Dungy insisted it was the Patriots who were the problem, not the weather or the field or the fates. But as the light snow continued to fall, and the field began to whiten for the start of the second half, the track became no place for Marvin Harrison or any of these fleet-footed Colts to be going long for a quick Manning strike.
The Patriots' defense pitched a second-half shutout, while Brady and Dillon and the familiar Patriots cast chewed up chunks of clock like a horde of cleats tearing away at a wet grass field. A 6-3 ball game became the 20-3 blowout.
The Patriots drove 87 yards in 8 minutes 16 seconds for one touchdown, and 94 yards in 7:24 for another. Manning spent most of his time on the sideline, watching the clock run, watching Brady again meet the magnitude of the moment, on his way to Pittsburgh, another frigid outpost, where he will feel right at home.
The A.F.C. title will be settled by the great outdoorsmen of the N.F.L. northeast, while the Manning who throws the prettiest passes will go home to watch the remainder of the postseason from the climate-controlled comfort of his home.
E-mail: hjaraton@nytimes.com
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