Sometimes even Batman has to throw up at halftime.
Perhaps, as Bruce Wayne, he ate a tainted Double Bacon 6Cheese™. Perhaps he couldn’t fit the Batmobile into the parking lot at Walgreens during flu shot week. Perhaps the thought of running the ball so much made him sick.
At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. The AFC West is the villain that always gets it in the end. The Jokers, the Riddlers, and the Penguins (or Chargers, Chiefs, and Raiders, if you prefer) all go down.
Kyle Orton outplayed Peyton Manning.
As strange as that sentence seems, what’s stranger is that it doesn’t matter if it’s true.
These Broncos are winning old school. Hey, Denver—1987 called. It wants its passing game back.
Call it Foxball. Call it a commitment to the run. Call it a preference for girls with auburn hair.
Whatever it is, Dan Reeves would be damn proud.
Peyton Manning completed half his passes, ended the game with a QB rating of 85.3, and turned the ball over once.
The Broncos won going away.
That’s not how they usually hunt up in Dove Valley. Big game hunting usually requires high caliber weaponry in the form of Manning’s right arm and high-precision scoping in the form of Manning’s mind.
Sometimes, though, you’ve got to go primitive. You’ve got to do things with your bare hands.
Sticks and stones may break their bones, but names will give them motivation.
For the two weeks—actually, let’s be honest, it’s been the entire year—the Broncos offensive line has heard the criticisms. They have no cohesion. They aren’t physical enough. They’re out of position.
From left to right tackle—all of them girlie men.
For a week, at least, they came to pump Broncos fans up, piling up 201 yards on the ground.
The Broncos are the Little Red Riding Hood of the NFL.
They’re cute, everyone likes them, and they can even skip through most of the forest of the NFL season without a lot of fear.
Ah, but there’s grandma’s house waiting at the end. And, like the monster waiting in grandma’s bed, the NFL playoffs have one hell of a bite.
Can the Broncos figure out the signs before they are devoured? Grandma’s big teeth? The horrible play of the offensive line. Grandma’s big eyes? The penalties. Grandma’s deep voice? The turnovers.
We all find comfort in the familiar.
The flannel shirt you wore right out of the dryer, your girlfriend’s banana bread, a Showgirls marathon on TV—these are the things that make us whole.
But nothing gives comfort like a game against the Oakland Raiders.
Perhaps it’s the porous coverage or the liquid tackling. Or maybe it’s just the way Raiders fans act like they could bite the head off a bat but really go home and play 50 Shades of Grey.
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.
“Son,” he said to me, “just remember, good fortune just means life is about to kick your ass.”
The Broncos were at the top of all the power rankings last week. In fact, many pundits were already predicting they’d win it all.
So much for that nonsense. Let the Patriots have the praise.
Chris Jordan asks:
@IAOFM can you do a break down of how denver will cover gronk?— chris jordan (@Broncos2tuff) October 26, 2014
This is a great question, Chris.
It’s still a week away from Halloween, but the Broncos are getting scary.
Too many monsters. Too many ways for the opponent to die.
Tonight, the Broncos fed the Frankenstein that was Emmanuel Sanders.
The Chargers were torn limb from limb.
Be afraid, AFC West. Be very afraid.
Records are made to be broken, so they say.
When Peyton Manning is involved, though, they are simply broken to be made again. And again. And Again.
With every touchdown pass he throws, Manning rewrites the record books in orange and blue.
Is there any reason to think Manning can’t throw another 100 touchdowns as a Bronco?
No. No there is not.