My Super Bowl Wish That Did Not Come True: No Peyton Manning

I Live in Pike Township, Indiana. For those of you who don't know where Pike Township is, Marion County is like a tic-tac-toe board: Lucas Oil Stadium is in Center Township, and Pike is northwest. The Colts' training facility is in Pike Township, just outside the 465 loop.

A year ago at this time loomed the prospect that one of two things could happen: First, the Colts were good enough that they could have been the first team to play a Super Bowl in its own stadium. The second was the looming lockout that could cancel the season. Preparations were put on hold. 

Then came the picture of Bob Kraft hugging Jeff Saturday; the lockout was over. The Super Bowl was going to happen. Training camps could open. The season would start on time. The Colts could still play the Super Bowl in their own stadium.

But truth is stranger than fiction. The seemingly indestructible Peyton Manning was hurt. Peyton Manning, who only missed one snap due to injury in his career was out of action.

Peyton Manning, whose career, if he does retire, will have come to an abrupt an end as Sandy Koufax in 1966. 

Peyton Manning, who fans of the Jets and other teams are waiting like sharks to devour when his spat with Colts owner Jim Irsay boils over and Irsay refuses to pay his roster bonus.

Peyton Manning, who Bob Kravitz can't wait to run out of town, like he ran Ron Artest out of town after the brawl in Detroit in 2004—a brawl from which the now-stepchild franchise down the street is just beginning to recover.

(Kudos to Larry Bird and the Simon family for sticking with the program. Artest went to the Lakers and helped Kobe Bryant win Phil Jackson his 11th championship ring.)

Peyton Manning, if he stays, will hopefully mentor his successor, Andrew Luck—or if Tony Dungy had his way, Robert Griffin III, a.k.a. "RG3."  It seems strange that in 1998 he Colts had the same problem: whether to pick Manning or Ryan Leaf.

Thirty years ago I was living in Waco, Texas. I was a graduate student at Baylor's school of music. Other than a couple of pictures in the Roundup, it was like I was never there. I had lots of friends who are scattered all over the world. I ended up in Pike Township, Indiana.

A thesis, without a word processor or internet access, was insurmountable. 

Because of this cable—who doesn't have cable or satellite?—or sports package, finally got to see RG3 in action when they beat Texas back in November.

I was at the game in 1980, when Dennis Gentry, who caddied Walter Peyton and ran back kicks for the Chicago Bears, scored two touchdowns. A defense led by Hall of Famer Mike Singletary shut out the Longhorns 16-0. I went back to Waco early to go to the Cotton Bowl, where the Bears lost 30-2. 

I still have not seen Andrew Luck play. Well, Andrew or Robert, one of you is going to find out what life is like in Pike Township, since you will be practicing there.

But the Colts playing today was my Super Bowl wish; that is the subject of this article. It is about a man, now 75 years old, who, like me, will probably be watching the Super Bowl on TV: Bill Gaither. 

Gaither, with limited talent and a great, big, wonderful God, changed the world. 

For some, football or another sport is their religion. Bill, along with his wife Gloria, has sold millions of records, videos and DVDs throughout the world and probably never came to mind when NBC was trying to come up with someone to sing the National Anthem. 

Probably close to the worst and best renditions were at the renditions were before the conference championship games. Aerosmith star Steven Tyler sounded like he had a hangover. Kristin Chenoweth, a tiny woman with a huge voice, nailed it.

Chenoweth knows who Bill Gaither is; she recorded Gaither's "Because He Lives."

Gaither, like the recently dismissed Bill Polian, has an eye for talent. Mark Lowry credits Gaither for discovering Sandi Patty, who has sung the National Anthem many times and would have been a better choice than the network made.

He hired a Baylor alumnus, David Phelps, to sing first tenor in the Gaither Vocal Band. Phelps can belt a high C like Luciano Pavarotti used to in opera houses. The Vocal Band rendition of the Star Spangled Banner is one of its best renditions: Gaither, Phelps, Lowry and Guy Penrod. 

I was eleven when the first Super Bowl was played. I have seen them all on TV and will do so tonight. I did not go downtown, because I can't afford the parking. If they keep the zip line open, I may try it out.

From all indications, a Super Bowl in a town New Yorkers call "hicks"—and one that hates the Patriots—has been a huge success. I saw a strange sight yesterday: Patriot shirts at the Pike Plaza Meijer.

It's strange that the game itself has almost become a byproduct. From the moment it was announced that the Super Bowl was coming, the countdown began. Hopefully, another will come here. Gaither will probably be with many of his Homecoming friends.

When we all get to heaven...