A month and a half ago, Indianapolis Colts quarterback Peyton Manning was on his way to football immortality. 

Owner of a 14-0 regular season record with a struggling Jets team and a toothless Bills squad standing between him and a perfect 16-0 record, the once infamous "Manning Face" had taken on a whole new meaning.  Whispers of whether Manning was the greatest quarterback of all time were abound.  A perfect 19-0 season would cement Manning's legacy in football lore and not only put him in the same conversation as Montana, Brady, and Unitas—it would put him at the top of that list.

Most of the football world knows what happened next.  One puzzling coaching decision and a Tracy Porter pick-six later, Colts fans are left scratching their heads.  What seemed destined as a magical season had now gone up in flames.  As the dust from Super Bowl XLIV settles and Mardi Gras begins one week early in New Orleans, one question will be beat to death on radio shows and television networks throughout the sports world:  Is Manning's legacy intact?

At first glance, this question seems like a gross overreaction to just one loss, albeit a Super Bowl loss.  After all, didn't future Hall of Famers Tom Brady and Kurt Warner just lose Super Bowls?  Where was the discussion about their legacies?  The answer to this is simple.  Media perception of Manning flipped from one end of the spectrum to the other.  Manning went from being called possibly the greatest quarterback to ever walk the land to the regular season stud who can't "bring it" in the big game.  Sure, he won the big one in '06, but let's be honest—Manning did not play well in that game and a legitimate argument can be made for Dominic Rhodes as the MVP of that game.  

It's worth noting that this issue is very much open ended—Manning still has at least four or five years of good football in him, and he could very well end up winning one or two more titles, rendering this entire discussion moot. 

With that being said, arguments for and against Manning's legacy will generally fall into either one of two schools of thought.  When challenged with the task of deciding what standard to use when evaluating the great NFL quarterbacks, fans and experts will generally fall into one two camps. 

Manning supporters will argue that athletes should be evaluated on their entire body of work over a career, while critics will argue that athletes are defined by the big moments.  Both schools of thought have solid arguments, which I will explore below.

Slow and Steady: The Entire Body of Work Is What Matters

Since being drafted No. 1 overall in 1998, Manning has been the face of consistency in the regular season.  Virtually unstoppable in the months of September, October, and November, Manning has amassed a 131-61 regular season record. 

Statistics?  Manning has them all.  He's not only on pace to break all the major passing records, he's on pace to obliterate them.  An NFL record four MVPs, highest single season passer rating, career completions, career touchdown passes, career passing yards—by the end of his career, he'll have them all. 

Manning has every throw in the book.  Not only does he have them, he makes them look easy.  Accuracy?  Immaculate.  Arm strength?  Good enough.  Pocket awareness?  Among the best.  Spiral?  Needs some work.  Unfortunately for him, the one black mark on his stellar resume is the one that may keep him from being called the greatest ever.  A 9-9 career playoff record.

Manning supporters have several convincing arguments as to why his statistics and consistent level of play outweigh his relative mediocrity in the postseason.

1.  Football is a team game, and teams win championships.  If we're evaluating individual players, we should be using individual accomplishments. 

Montana and Brady, owners of four and three Super Bowl rings respectively, both had world-class supporting casts during each of their championship seasons.  Brady relied on a ball control offense and a stifling defense in each of his Super Bowl runs.  We'll concede that Montana threw for five touchdowns in his 1990 55-10 Super Bowl win over the Broncos with a completion percentage of 76 percent, but if the Niners' success was really Montana and not his supporting cast, why was Steve Young able to pick up right where Montana left off?  Just an argument—you be the judge. 

The point of this argument is that Manning's individual achievements are indisputably the most impressive, and therefore should be considered the best individual player. 

2.  Dan Marino is consistently ranked as a top five quarterback of all time, yet he only made it to the Super Bowl once and never won.  If championships are the true measure of a quarterback's worth, then why is Dan Marino still among the greatest while guys like Brad Johnson and Trent Dilfer are simply afterthoughts?  

Examples like this take a little bite out of the "championships define a player" argument.  If Dan Marino is a top five quarterback because of his statistical accomplishments while having zero Super Bowl victories, why can't a legitimate argument be made for Manning, who will end up with even greater statistics AND have at least one ring?

3.  No team has been more dependent on one player than the Colts have been on Manning.  This past season has given us Colts fans a sneak peek at what life after Peyton Manning will be like.  If you missed it, I'll fill you in. 

It does not look good.  No player has been scrutinized more, had more pressure piled on him, and taken the amount of heat he has taken.  Manning plays with expectations every time he steps out on the field.  Not only expectations from himself, but from the city of Indianapolis, the fans, and the media.  The level of scrutiny and pressure is unprecedented — to the point where we begin to take him for granted. 

No other player — not Brady, Montana, Marino, or Elway, has dealt with pressure in the way Manning has, and this is what sets him apart.

Show Me the Rings:  You Are Defined By the Big Moments

You've seen this argument before.  Stars are born in the playoffs.  Big players show up in big games.  This is where the argument for Manning as GOAT begins to fall apart. 

A 9-9 career postseason record with one Super Bowl win would be a dream come true for any player, but this isn't good enough for Manning. 

He has had some stellar moments in the playoffs, including a perfect passer rating against the Broncos in 2003, and of course his Super Bowl win in 2006.  However, Manning's postseason failures linger and will always spawn memories of the Original Manning Face. 

To name a few, the 41-0 loss to the Jets, the 24-14 loss against the Patriots in 2003 where he threw four picks, the 20-3 collapse against the Patriots in his record-breaking 2004 season, the multiple recent failures against the San Diego Chargers, and now the  Super Bowl XLIV loss where he was simply outplayed by Drew Brees.

Manning critics have plenty of ammunition here, but I'll tackle two of the stronger points.

1.  There are two types of clutch:  You can be clutch when the moment is big, or you can be clutch in the big moment.  Inane play on words?  Maybe, maybe not.  Let me explain. 

Manning has 42 fourth quarter comebacks in his career.  21 points in four minutes against Tampa?  Beating Miami while only holding the ball for 15 minutes?  These are examples of being clutch when the moment is big.  When the game is on the line, Peyton is at his best. 

However, when the season is on the line, it's a different story.  To be the best, you need to be clutch in the big moment—the Big Game.  Manning's lone Super Bowl victory came as he rode the coattails of 190 yards rushing and a defensive touchdown. 

Given a second shot at the big game, Manning folded.  In three Super Bowl victories, Tom Brady engineered three late game winning drives and showed the world why he was special.  Until Manning gives us a Manning-like performance in the Super Bowl, he'll only be clutch when the moment is big.

2.  Joe Montana's postseason record:  16-7, 4 titles.  Tom Brady's postseason record: 14-4, three titles.  Peyton Manning's?  A paltry 9-9 with one title. 

In many circles, this statistic is the most telling.  There are some things that can't be learned through years of training or film study, and this is what separates the greats from the greatest.  The "it" factor.  The swagger.  Montana had it.  Brady has it.  It's something you're born with, and it pains me to say that Manning doesn't. 

Manning is a great player, there's no doubt about it.  But once you start discussing GOAT status, the standard of review changes.  Tiger Woods, Roger Federer, Michael Jordan—these guys relish the big moment and thrive in it.  They live in it.  They have vacation homes in it.  

Manning has shown time and time again that he can't handle it.  I'm not going to analyze the Tracy Porter interception and argue whether or not it lost the game for the Colts.  I won't play that game.  I'll keep it simple.  The greatest quarterback of all time does not throw that pick.  By definition.

Manning's Legacy?

My answer?  As much as it hurts to say so, Peyton Manning will never go down as the greatest in NFL history.  Nine postseason losses is just too much to overcome.

The right answer? We won't know until it's all said and done—and even then, this same debate will still remain:  Individual accomplishments versus postseason success.  It depends on who you ask.  Therein lies the power of being a fan.