Peyton Manning: A Failure as a Pop-Culture Icon

Peyton Manning will go down in pro football lore as one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play the game. Even though his career as a quarterback isn't over, his days as an Indianapolis icon certainly are. And when you consider the bland, white-bread legacy that Peyton leaves behind, it's clear that Archie's Boy and the Circle City were made for each other.

Even Peyton's departure, from the only team he has ever known, was disgustingly ordinary. He and Colts owner Jim Irsay rode to the airport in the same car, to share Irsay's private plane for the trip to Indianapolis. Raise your hand if you've ever been fired and managed to share the same room with your boss without throwing a stapler. Could Peyton have found a less inspiring way to confront the guy that just took $28 million out of his pocket? I don't see how.

And that's my problem with Peyton Manning. He's inhuman. He has no soul. He's Data from "Star Trek: The Next Generation." And as satisfying as Peyton's career has been for fans of football, it has been disappointing for fans of humanity. He's kitchen-knife dull. Lessons from his legacy are better left to an Excel spreadsheet than a Word document.

The only satisfactorily human thing about him is his post-interception face, his Manning Face. Whenever he throws a ball to the opposing team, his mouth ties itself into a knot, like he just swallowed a mouthful of bugs. 

And I think his pop-culture pull with America is overstated. The relationship he does have with the American people is a corporate one. Buy this product. Watch me on this TV. It's overly packaged, and results aside, it's uninspiring. Just like his game.

No woman would have sex with Peyton Manning if he wasn't an NFL quarterback. I mean, look at the guy. There's nothing overtly sexual about him, unless you're attracted to Mr. Peanut. And if that's your thing, honestly, get down with your bad self, and I could probably give you a couple of references. But some people are allergic to peanuts.

Peyton's game never had that quirk that made you fall in love with him. Drew Brees has his daring downfield lobs. Aaron Rodgers plays with unbridled rage. Even Tom Brady's underlying intensity on the field draws curiosity and respect, to say nothing of his life off it. But we get none of that with Peyton, who's just that 10-year-old dork that torches your ass in "Madden" every weekend. Nobody likes that kid.

We've been shortchanged by the fact that Peyton was happy to simply be an excellent quarterback and sell us shoes, phones and TVs. He was neither entertainer nor icon. There was no Peyton Manning pantyhose commercial, no Peyton Manning Space Jam. Hell, I would have settled for a one-hour special on ESPN discussing his latest neck surgery. I've already got a name for the program.

"The Incision." That one's free, ESPN.

As great as Peyton was through the 2000s, he was never really heroic (There's a reason that his only Super Bowl came from Rex Grossman barfing it into his lap). And unless you were looking at him as a first-round draft pick in your fantasy league, nothing about the guy stuck with you. Nothing clung to your heart and made you say, "I want to be this guy."

Because nobody outside of the backyards of Indiana wants to be Peyton Manning. The Manning blueprint for success is so boring, it should be delivered to your door by Jehovah's Witnesses (sorry, Jehovah's Witnesses, but seriously, try a colored shirt once in a while). What has Peyton taught us? That you have to be overbearing and boring to be successful? That it's okay to leave your team hanging until the last possible minute of the start of the season and then back out? Sorry, fellas. I'm just not feeling it. That spontaneity is bad?

Peyton managed to change the game, but he didn't change the world. If we took away the proficiency at his one job, with what would we be left? An adjunct engineering professor. There has never been a more boring 11-time Pro Bowler in NFL history. Congratulations, Anthony Munoz, you're off the hook.

Some NFL team will get a great NFL quarterback. But they won't get a hero. And maybe that will be good enough for his new employer, whose only plans might be to use him as an interchangeable part under center, until he finally wears out. That would work out fine.

But I hope Peyton brings a disclaimer to his next team. Peyton turns 36 later this month, and the club that expects the quarterback to return to form in 2012 should at least get fair warning.

"Your mileage may vary."