As the NFL segues into this off-season, the main topic of conversation is most certainly the uncertainty surrounding Peyton Manning. More and more, Pro Bowl-caliber players are being shown the door in dramatic fashion.

However, it is rare that a player of Peyton’s legendary status is left to twist in the wind, leaving us all to wonder where he’ll finish his career.

Given the fact that he has already missed one whole season due to multiple neck surgeries, and rumor has it his arm is now like a "noodle”, it’s possible that his career is already done.

Assuming he can make a capable return at age 36, the plight of Peyton Manning is very similar to that of another legendary quarterback, who was also felled by injuries at the peak of his abilities, was famously dumped, and yet made a triumphant comeback in another city.

In my lifetime, the two greatest NFL signal-callers have been Peyton Manning and Joe Montana. Once upon a time, the San Francisco 49ers were an absolute powerhouse, akin to the modern-day Patriots. Montana was as big a reason for that as anyone.

“Joe Cool” was more than his nickname suggests. He was more than just the perfect guy for Bill Walsh’s system. Montana was The Comeback Kid before Elway ever played a down in the pros.

He utilized the talents of everyone around him. Anyone could look good with Jerry Rice and Dwight Clark on the same team, but how many could transform John Taylor, Brent Jones and the late Freddie Solomon into viable receiving threats?

With Montana lined up in front of him, it was no coincidence that Roger Craig was the first running back to amass 1,000 rushing yards and 1,000 receiving yards in the same season.

Of course, the three Super Bowl victories and the rock-star good looks (despite Barry Manilow’s hair) only cemented his legend. Women adored him, including my own mother. Heck, a town in the state of Montana renamed itself Joe in his honor.  

Unfortunately, the man who inspired the renaming of Joe proved to be human—and replaceable—in the end. A devastating elbow injury sidelined him for the entire 1991 season and almost all of 1992 as well. Steve Young took the role of Lou Gehrig to Montana’s Wally Pipp and never relinquished the position.

When “Golden Joe” was ready to resume his greatness, he had to endure an awkward, drawn-out breakup from the 49ers. Bill Walsh, the man who drafted Montana and entrusted him to lead the franchise, was no longer there to stand by his man. New head coach George Seifert boldly (and coldly) stated that Young would remain the starter for the duration of 1992, including the playoffs.

When the backlash proved to be too great, then-owner Eddie DeBartolo Jr. announced that Montana would be the starter going into the 1993 season. Everyone knew that his was an empty gesture done strictly for PR reasons, and that Montana would surely “lose” the job back to Young at the end of training camp.

Joe ultimately decided to head for greener pastures in Kansas City. DeBartolo and Co. tried to make it sound like Montana jilted his team at the altar, but it was no longer his team. It was as if he was pushed off the diving board and then asked if he could swim. Montana saw the writing on the wall. In truth, the 49ers had already moved on without him.  

Many 49ers fans were crushed, including my mother. She refused to accept that “Steve Yutz” was a suitable replacement. He was one of the more accurate, mobile and cerebral quarterbacks in NFL history. Young is a Super Bowl winner and Hall of Famer in his own right. However, he’ll always be Steve Yutz.  

I will not feign objectivity. Peyton Manning is my all-time favorite quarterback. In my opinion, no one since Montana has combined the physical demands of the position with the work ethic, mental preparedness and sheer intelligence like Manning has.

Whereas Montana had that winning smile suited for a Wheaties box, Peyton has that sense of humor, complete with deadpan delivery, and a willingness to make fun of himself.

Marvin Harrison might have been the closest thing to Jerry Rice that Manning had, but I challenge anyone to tell me that Reggie Wayne, Pierre Garcon or Dallas Clark would have been as good without the presence of #18.  

Peyton Manning enters this offseason in an equally awkward spot. His head coach, Jim Caldwell, is gone. Team President Bill Polian is also history. Long-time teammates Wayne, Garcon, Robert Mathis and Jeff Saturday are all unrestricted free agents. The Colts’ dreadful 2-14 season in 2011 ensures that they can take Stanford QB Andrew Luck with the first pick in the draft.

Owner Jim Irsay is making grandiose statements about how he wants Peyton to come back. He says ultimately it will be Manning who decides whether or not he is a Colt in 2012.

I’ve seen this movie before. Irsay is simply taking a page out of DeBartolo’s PR playbook. It didn’t work then and it won’t work now. The Colts are clearly a team that is starting over and moving on without Manning, despite any overtures to the contrary.  

What makes this even more of a foregone conclusion is that we haven’t had the luxury of seeing Peyton return to game action. On the last day of the 1992 season, Montana showed the world, live on Monday Night Football, that he still had something left in the tank at age 36. Peyton hasn’t shown us anything to disprove the rumors of his noodle-armed demise.

Given his aforementioned work ethic, I’m willing to believe that Manning will be ready to go in Week 1 of the 2012 season. To some, it will be just another case of a future Hall of Famer hanging on after his time is up. It’s become an NFL cliché.

Montana wore an unfamiliar uniform at the end of his career, as did Jerry Rice, Joe Namath and Emmitt Smith. Johnny Unitas, the greatest Baltimore Colts quarterback ever, played his final season as a San Diego Charger.

Now, it seems inevitable that the greatest Indianapolis Colts quarterback ever will join that ever-growing list. To me, Peyton Manning’s final act is just another case of history repeating. I just hope that Andrew Luck won’t take it personally if I refer to him, now and forever, as Andrew Suck.