Yes, you. The one who doubted if Peyton Manning could come back and play at a high level after a year off, four neck surgeries, and being marginalized by seemingly every single columnist on the planet.
You, the one who said he was “one hit away” from the end of his career — you know, like everyone else who plays professional football — and “couldn’t throw to his right” (easily one of the dumbest arguments ever heard by anyone, ever)…
You, the rival fan. You, the columnist. You, the blogger.
You, the doubter.
Apologize to Mr. Manning. Do it now, before he decides to take over the entire planet with his still-live arm and his still-best-in-the-business brain.
If you do not, he will reduce you to rubble. He will destroy your cities with a laser, rocket arm, then drive his Buick home to his palatial estate in the Denver suburbs to dive like Scrooge McDuck into a room that is filled with nothing but gold coins.
Consider: In the month of October, sullied by the entire fucking league wearing ridiculous pink-covered NFL merch — I get wanting to be aware of breast cancer; can we be more subtle? We’re like two years away from having alternate jerseys and helmets that are pink for the occasion, and that aggression will not stand, man — Mr. Manning of The Bionic Neck went 2-1, and a 126.7 passer rating over the three games. He’s also over 2000 yards for the season, has thrown for four straight 300 yard/3 touchdown days, and was named AFC Offensive Player of the Month.
Because he’s a pimp, you see.
Apologize. Before it’s too late.
Editor’s note: HERE are your NFL picks. Let’s go make some money.