Peyton Manning

by Mark Kiszla

  The read-option play is nothing new. It’s older than the veer, the wishbone, and wing-T formations. Nevertheless, a quarterback whose legs are stronger than his throwing arm has long been an outlier in the NFL.

  The league never really trusted Steve Young until he was over 30, as the pro game relentlessly drilled conformity into him. But Young had the last laugh, taking the long way home to the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio, with Super Bowl trophies riding shotgun.

  Before his ugly entanglement with dogfighting sent him to prison, Michael Vick was lauded by every pixel-loving kid of the early 21st century. Young boys admired Vick as the most unstoppable football force on the video-game landscape. Vick was Super Mario in shoulder pads. NFL coaches, however, never quite figured out how to harness Vick’s freewheeling energy for championship good.

  The wildcat formation was a temporary but sharp pain in the posterior for defensive coordinators, forced to deal with a direct snap to a running back standing several steps behind the center. The wildcat owed a huge debt to longtime University of Delaware coach Tubby Raymond, a master of misdirection and one of the more underappreciated offensive minds in the game’s history. The wildcat gave Miami Dolphins running back Ronnie Brown his 15 minutes of NFL fame. But the wildcat always felt like a gimmick.

  As Peyton Manning donned a Broncos jersey for the first time in 2012, the league took a significant step forward in opening the position of quarterback to more applicants. Now trending on Twitter: RG3.

  Robert Griffin III was a world-class hurdler who grew up to win the Heisman Trophy at Baylor University. When Washington traded up for the number two pick in the 2012 draft with Griffin in mind, it ended any possibility of Manning playing for Redskins coach Mike Shanahan, a coach long admired by the veteran quarterback. If Shanahan, among the more innovative strategists in the business, was adapting to the emerging skill set of the modern quarterback, then the movement had merit.

  Russell Wilson, who first came on the radar of the Colorado sports fans as a minor-league infielder in the Rockies organization, emerged from the University of Wisconsin with all the abilities necessary to succeed in the NFL save one prickly issue: height. Wilson was shorter than the minimum line required to get behind the wheel of a pro offense. Listed at 5 feet, 11 inches, Wilson would need to be mobile in the pocket to spot receivers and be efficient against massive defenders. But Seattle sent shock waves throughout the league by naming Wilson the team’s starter. An undersized, raw rookie won the job ahead of ballyhooed free agent Matt Flynn, signed shortly before the draft by the Seahawks to a three-year, $19.5 million contract.

  The 2011 NFL draft is fondly remembered in Denver as the place where the Broncos selected linebacker Von Miller with the first pick of John Elway’s tenure as a front-office executive. Here is the trivia question: Whatever happened to the team’s selection at number 36 in the same draft? The Broncos traded the pick to San Francisco. The Niners selected Kaepernick. As a University of Nevada senior, Kaepernick had shaken me from a tryptophan stupor during Thanksgiving weekend of 2010, by leading a remarkable upset against previously undefeated Boise State. But it took until the 10th week of the 2012 season for Kaepernick to get his shot on the big stage, after San Francisco quarterback Alex Smith went down with a concussion.

  While Manning posted statistics worthy of a traditional MVP candidate during his first year in Denver, Griffin, Wilson, and Kaepernick not only knocked conventional wisdom on its ear, but made the most unexpectedly beautiful noise of the NFL campaign, by leading the Redskins, Seahawks, and Niners to playoff bids.

  It was a back-to-the-future revolution. Quarterbacks capable of running the option became overnight smash success stories. “People say you can’t run the option in the NFL, but we’re proving you can. It’s not something that’s our bread and butter, but you can sprinkle it in now and then. Teams have to prepare for it,” Griffin told Arnie Stapleton of the Associated Press.

  “Coaches take a certain pride in shutting down what they call college stuff. They take pride in that. It doesn’t bother me. We can run it two times a game. We can run it 15 times a game.”

  The experiment worked. The proof rolled in, one rousing victory at a time. It appears Griffin, Wilson, and Kaepernick have invented a new way to be a successful quarterback in the NFL. Charles Darwin would have loved this war between different species of quarterback.

  Maybe, just maybe, the drop-back quarterback now has something more frightening to worry about than a brutal blindside tackle by a defensive end. The sport constantly evolves. And, as the late, great Darwin would be the first to tell you: It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change. Maybe, just maybe, great field vision and a deft passing touch are no longer sufficient for a quarterback to thrive in the league.

  Is Manning the last of the dinosaurs?

  “People have been saying for seven or eight years now that the drop-back quarterback is a thing of the past, and the mobile quarterback is the future,” Manning told me, as he walked off the practice field one morning.

  Manning let his statement sink in my thick skull. He stood as quiet as a statue, which, come to think of it, is exactly how Manning looks in the pocket, when preparing to throw a pass. To call him slow of foot is an insult to molasses.

  Proving once again that this man’s comedic timing is as sharp as his ability to hit a receiver fresh out of the break with a football between the numbers, Manning hit me with the punch line.

  The drop-back quarterback is going the way of the dinosaur?

  “Well, this isn’t good,” said Manning, a mischievous, crooked grin lifting one corner of his mouth.

  What happens if there is a read-option revolution?

  “I’m going to be out of a job,” said Manning, cracking wise.

  If Manning can now joke about being out of work, maybe the psychological wounds of being fired from the Indianapolis Colts are beginning to heal.

  More important, Manning has done the math and he knows the answer: So long as the NFL desires to entertain the masses by lighting up the scoreboard, a guy who can fling the football will always find gainful employment. Some things never go out of style: Macaroni and cheese. The sweet growl of a 1967 Ford Mustang as it shifts into second gear. A spiral perfectly spun by a quarterback from the old school.

  “I admire the versatility of these young quarterbacks,” Manning said. “But I certainly think there’s still a place in the NFL for the drop-back quarterback. Or at least I hope so. I’d like to keep working.”

  I’m loath to incite fist-shaking anger from Broncomaniacs with a number 15 jersey banished to the dark end of the closet, but did Denver dump Tim Tebow at the dawn of an offensive revolution?

  Innovation hatched in the football research laboratories on university campuses has long enhanced the NFL product. But option football is as old as the hills. Manning was seen operating the Colts offense from a spread formation during his glory days with Indianapolis. Manning did not carry the rock. But the blocking schemes and misdirection plays helped Colts running back Edgerrin James gain more than 9,000 yards on the ground from 1999 through the 2005 season.

  “There are not many new things in the National Football League,” Broncos coach John Fox said. “The read-option is a college type of run game that has been going on for at least 30 years, whether it was the Southwest Conference with Texas and the wishbone, or the veer that Houston ran back in the day. Mouse Davis, when he was the coach at Portland State, put in the run-and-shoot offense. So this is not new. You know all that is really different now in pro football that did not exist much back in the 1970s? Now, there are more quarterbacks who can run the football as well as throw it.”

  The Broncos were comfortable with dumbing down their offense for the benefit of Tebow, because Fox had proof it could work. Way back in 2006, when Fox was coaching in Carolina, the Panthers were in trouble. Having lost quarterback Jake Delhomme to injury, they were
struggling to generate offense with backup Chris Weinke under center. “The wildcat formation? We actually started that when I was back in Carolina,” Fox said.

  Desperation fosters innovation. Fox decided to have tailback DeAngelo Williams take direct snaps from a shotgun stance. Darn, if it did not work. Carolina beat Atlanta. Fox would be the last to take credit for inventing the wildcat, but he certainly helped promote the idea it could be effective in the NFL.

  While known for backslaps as warm as a hello from your favorite uncle, Fox has seldom been accused of being a cutting-edge coach. But he experimented with Tebow as a run-first quarterback, made the playoffs as Broncos Country adopted Tebow as its favorite son, and then returned to a more conventional offense. Why?

  With a voice as down-home as the sound of car wheels on a gravel road, Fox shared the unavoidable reason why he is skeptical that the read-option attack employed by San Francisco will take over and dominate the NFL. Fox needed only one word to state the crux of his case:

  “Exposure,” Foxy said, repeating the word to underline his point. “Exposure. That’s the hard part. It’s a long season. And this is a game of violent collisions. When a quarterback runs a lot, it’s the exposure he gets against big, fast, physical people who play defense.”

  Manning was hired by the Broncos in part because Fox and Elway learned the brutal lessons that await any NFL team that takes on the risks inherent with a running quarterback.

  From the beginning to the end of a Super Bowl run, a quarterback can be subject to 20 games of violent hits. Tebow won his only 2011 playoff game in Denver, with an 80-yard touchdown pass to Demaryius Thomas that beat the Pittsburgh Steelers. But during a 45–10 loss to New England the next weekend, Tebow suffered a rib injury so severe that it was unlikely he would have been able to play in the AFC championship game had the Broncos somehow managed to beat the Patriots.

  “Tebow got whacked pretty good,” Fox said. “Anytime you go inside those lines of a football field, you’re exposed. Even a pocket passer is exposed. And now you’re going to run your quarterback as a regular part of your offense? That only increases the exposure.”

  While Cam Newton of the Carolina Panthers is bigger, sturdier, and faster than the stuff of Fran Tarkenton’s dreams, you can take this to the bank: The rambling, gambling quarterback who makes his living on the option play will never, ever receive unconditional support at the pro game. It is one thing to have the scrambling ability of Roger Staubach. It is a far more dangerous proposition to embarrass NFL defenders with an offensive scheme they recall from peewee football.

  “I view the read option the same as I viewed the wildcat. It can be successful as an offense in spots, with the right personnel,” Minnesota defensive end Jared Allen said. “But give NFL minds some time to work on it, and defenses will find a way to negate it. Someone is going to come up with a defense to stop the read option. It’s a good wrinkle. But I don’t think it can be the basis of everything you do on offense.”

  Wilson bristles at any suggestion he has benefited extensively from a scheme that is Remedial Football 101. Wilson runs the read-option attack. But when Wilson looks in the mirror, he sees something far more than an immature read-option quarterback who is trying to fool people by wearing grown-up NFL clothes.

  A read-option quarterback incapable of throwing the football will not be a starting quarterback for long, Wilson insisted. In other words: Wilson is not Tebow. “The game is changing,” Wilson said. “But my ability to succeed is based on being able to throw the football effectively.”

  Proponents of the read-option attack argue the scheme has legs for multifaceted reasons. It forces defenses to be reactive. It can minimize the pass rush. The read-option scheme can employ a variety of personnel sets. It gives less-polished quarterbacks a chance to play earlier in their careers.

  “I think this is the real deal. There are all kinds of ways to hand the ball off, have three wide receivers, have that kind of thing,” respected former Cowboys executive Gil Brandt told Mike Klis of the Denver Post. “I’m not sure anybody has a way to stop this. They may slow it down, but they’re not going to stop it.”

  To find out what the NFL truly values, however, the path to discovery is tried and true. Follow the money. In 2013, Kaepernick is due to be paid $714,000 for sticking his neck out with San Francisco. Compare that to the $20 million salary of New Orleans Saints quarterback Drew Brees. While Kaepernick started for San Francisco in the Super Bowl XLVII against Baltimore, the championship was won by Ravens quarterback Joe Flacco, a classic drop-back passer. And what earns Flacco great respect throughout the league? It is his throwing arm, such a strong weapon that no safety is truly safe against Flacco rearing back and desperately heaving a bomb deep into the night.

  The NFL makes a fortune as an entertainment vehicle that is dependent on the barely controlled mayhem of violent collisions between the white lines and the thinly veiled form of gambling known as fantasy football. The read-option quarterback, however, made us all look for another reason. The read option is just plain fun.

  Fun is far down the priority list for NFL coaches, though. They are obsessed with winning. The read-option attack is fun that coaches want to stamp out.

  “I think it’s the flavor of the day. We’ll see if it’s the flavor of the year. We’ll see if guys are committed to getting their guys hit,” Pittsburgh Steelers coach Mike Tomlin said, during the NFL owners meeting in March 2013.

  Griffin and the read-option gang fooled the NFL once.

  But what happens next could be a painful slap of reality upside the head of this read-option revolution. There are football nerds working overtime in darkened video rooms, planning revenge against any read-option quarterback who caught an NFL team flat-footed. The trail of embarrassment that Griffin left in his wake during a 76-yard romp to the end zone against Allen and his Vikings teammates in October 2012 can keep coaches awake at night and muttering: Never again.

  “We look forward to stopping it,” said Tomlin, making it sound as if the rise of read-option quarterbacks was an annoyance as easily eliminated as ants in the kitchen pantry. “We look forward to eliminating it.”

  So watch your back, RG3. The nickname of the Redskins’ quarterback makes for a nice hashtag. Griffin proves that big and bold trends on Twitter far quicker than traditional and old.

  The final, enduring image of Griffin from his amazing rookie season, however, served as a gruesome foreshadowing. His bold, fearless running took its toll, as RG3 entered the playoffs hobbling like a peg-legged pirate. During the fourth quarter of Washington’s 24–14 loss to Seattle, a low snap caused Griffin to bend awkwardly for the football. His injured right knee buckled. Everything bright about the Redskins’ future fell in a heap on the ground, with the quarterback’s body as limp as dirty laundry.

  For the second time in his athletic career, Griffin had torn the same anterior cruciate ligament in his knee. Like it or not, football pounds conformity into a quarterback with cruel intention and ugly consequences.

  Long after the read-option is a footnote in NFL history, Manning will be remembered as a giant of the sport.

  The dinosaur, a beast of yore, doesn’t live here anymore. In the NFL, the unwritten rule is: Adapt or perish.

  Manning, however, is bigger—and way smarter—than Tyrannosaurus rex.

  The read-option offense is all the rage, with more coaches in a copy-cat league certain to experiment with the scheme. But will pro football sack the classic drop-back passer and toss Manning’s old-school skills in some dusty corner of a museum?

  That would be harder than throwing away a comfortable old pair of blue jeans.

  Chapter 14

  Manning versus Elway

  The clock was ticking toward eleven o’clock at night, but the three kings who rule the Broncos’ fate were in absolutely no hurry to go home. Quarterback Peyton Manning, front-office honcho John Elway, and coach John Fox stood together around the new Denver quarterback’s locker long after
the game had ended, like three fraternity brothers standing around the keg on an awesome night nobody wanted to end.

  The curtain had risen on the Manning era in Denver to thunderous applause from the home crowd, and after beating the Pittsburgh Steelers 31–19 in the first game of the 2012 NFL season, the reviews were going to be positively glowing.

  Down the hall from this private celebration by Manning, Elway, and Fox, journalists with deadlines to meet squirmed impatiently in their seats, waiting for an audience with the evening’s star. Nevertheless, Broncos media relations director Patrick Smyth, one of the best and brightest in the business, listened to the laughter bouncing among Elway, Manning, and Fox. Interrupt this impromptu executive meeting so the quarterback could face the cameras? No way. Smyth was way too smart to attempt anything so foolhardy.

  “I can buzz the tower,” Smyth told a newspaper hack waiting for a word with Elway. “But I’m not breaking this up. Look at these guys. They’re enjoying themselves. And they should, don’t you think?”

  Before taking the field against Pittsburgh on the night of September 9, the four-time MVP who had endured four neck surgeries had not taken a snap in a game that counted for more than 600 days.

  Six hundred days of rust. For Manning, it was gone in 60 seconds.

  Manning looked as if he had never left the huddle, let alone transferred from Indianapolis to Denver in a move that turned his life upside down and league fortunes inside out. On the second snap of his big debut night, Manning found Eric Decker for a simple and simply beautiful 13-yard gain. Against the Steelers, Manning would finish with 19 completions in 26 attempts for 253 yards and two touchdowns.

  As Manning replayed the night with Fox and Elway, it was apparent these three men were not encumbered by the normal boss and employee formalities. They were three peers getting their first real glimpses of how well their dreams of success for the Broncos could actually play out on the football field. And they were loving the possibilities.