Tennessee Pride

The Colt's newest quarterback, Southern boy Peyton Manning, faces one of the toughest tasks in pro sports - leading the Horseshoes to victory.

Listening to the Indianapolis Colts' rookie quarterback, Peyton Manning, talk about the upcoming season can almost give you a lump in your throat. While suiting up for a summer scrimmage, the 6-foot-5-inch, 230-pound pigskin phenom offers the usual platitudes about what he hopes to accomplish on the field. It's typical jack talk, but his earnest, unpretentious manner - or perhaps his Southern accent, thick as August air - makes you want to believe him. "I'm proud Mr. Irsay (Colts owner Jim) has put his faith in me," says the University of Tennessee grad. "When you're the quarterback here, you're more than just a player on the team. I want to be a good player, and I want to be a good citizen as well."

Longtime observers might advise him to worry less about citizenship than survival. That's because he's about to tackle one of the most hazardous jobs in pro sports - starting quarterback for the Colts. Hearing him talk to casually about a position that has permanently damaged the careers (and the bodies) of so many of his predecessors is like listening to an Iraqi footsoldier discuss what he'll do after he returns from the Gulf War. Maybe things will work out - but something deep inside tells you not to count on it.

Face it: over the past generation, the home team has gone through quarterbacks like Castro does cigars. Art Schlichter, the Ohio State whiz, was felled by his gambling addiction; Mike Pagel, an Arizona State star, spent much of his Hoosier Dome time lying on his back while opposing players high-fived over him; and most recently, Jeff George imploded after being picked first by the Colts in the 1990 draft. The physically gifted George, signed to an unprecedented six-year, $16 million contract, turned out to be a quarreling malcontent who, worst of all, couldn't win games. After compiling a miserable 21-43 record, he was booted to the Atlanta Falcons.

Even Jim Harbaugh, who made the Pro Bowl in 1995 after taking the Colts to within a play of the Super Bowl, paid the price for his dedication (remember the chipped front tooth?). By last season, despite scrambling more often than a Waffle House cook, the popular QB had become an on-field tackling dummy, taking the brunt of the Horseshoes' club-record 62 sacks.

The only Colts play-caller who achieved superstar status during the past two decades was John Elway --and only because he ran away from the boys in blue as fast as possible. When Elway was a young buck out of Stanford University, the then-Baltimore Colt made him their first pick in the 1983 NFL draft. But Elway, horrified by the team's 0-8-1 record from the previous, strike-shortened season, refused to sign. Instead he fled to Denver (and an eventual Super Bowl championship).

And so it goes. Four times in the last 15 years the Colts have drafted a quarterback in the first round, thrice with the very first selection. The first three - Sclichter, Elway and George - were disappointments (at least to the Colts). The fourth is Peyton Manning, who's not too hot about dwelling on the past. "What's happened to the quarterbacks, that's something I can't control," he says. Instead, Manning serves up vintage Sportuguese, talking about "hard work" and "giving everything I've got." And the weird part it, you want to believe him. By all accounts, the kid is as guileless as Forrest Gump (though considerably smarter; he wrapped up his college major, speech communications, in only three years, and spent his senior year in graduate school). His favorite musical artist is country singer Kenny Chesney, not Nine Inch Nails rocker Trent Reznor, who lives in New Orleans' Garden District near the Manning family. He drives a Chevy Tahoe sport utility vehicle, has a taste for pizza, falls for sentimental movies like The Horse Whisperer and has dated the same girl - Ashley Thompson, a recent University of Virginia graduate - for about four years.

And talk about a pedigree. His mother, Olivia, is a striking Southern belle who once reigned as University of Mississippi homecoming queen. As for his father, every true football fan knows of Archie Manning, a legendary Ole Miss quarterback and enduring Southern legend. Author John Grisham is such a fan that in his thriller The Pelican Brief, he names a Supreme Court justice "Archibald Manning".

Given his strong Mississippi roots, young Peyton touched off a firestorm when he forsook his father's alma mater to play college ball at the University of Tennessee - where he rewrote Southeastern Conference passing records and earned a place in the hearts of Vols fans that rivals Ole Miss boosters' affection for his dad. Teammates referred to his dorm room as The Cave, because he was always holed up in there, reviewing practice and game tapes. And when Manning's thumb wasn't pressed on the fast forward or rewind button his remote, he was either in class or on the practice field, where "Peyton was always the first there and the last to leave," says Tennessee coach Phillip Fulmer. "He kept people there who needed to stay, who needed extra work. He truly treated his job as a pro."

Manning compiled stellar stats at Tennessee (including an 11-1 record and No. 2 national ranking during his sophomore year), but he really turned heads as a senior - not for what he did, but what he didn't do. Everyone expected him to turn pro after his junior year, when he would almost certainly have been taken first in the draft and signed a $30 million-plus contract. But at a packed press conference, Manning told the world that, in essence, he was having too much fun at UT to quit just yet. Not long afterward, Baptist Hospital in Knoxville reported a rash of newborns named Peyton, and the Tennessee Sports Hall of Fame declared the Louisiana native Tennessean of the Year. Underscoring his collegiate career, in February he won the 1997 Sullivan Award, which honors the nation's top amateur athlete.

Like most good Southern boys, Manning occasionally breaches the fine line between jocularity and bad taste. In March 1995 at the University of Tennessee's sports center, he mooned a male cross-country runner. The runner didn't object, but the 27-year-old female athletic trainer who happened to be examining Manning's fight foot at the time did. She reported the incident to the UT athletic department, forcing a repentant Manning to gain absolution by running sprints at 6 a.m. and missing meals at the training table for two weeks. The university later reached a settlement with the trainer for a whopping $300,000. "What I did lasted maybe one second, and it was not directed toward her, and there's no way I thought she could see me," Manning told The Nashville Tennessean, the Knoxville newspaper. "I like to play jokes with the guys. I realize now, I've got to be careful."

That philosophy certainly applies to his upcoming rookie season with the Colts. And if he needs a cautionary tale about what an under-performing team can do to an overachieving QB, he need look no further than his dad's ill-fated pro career. Archie, a two-time All-American, was the second pick of the 1971 NFL draft. Unfortunately, he went to the New Orleans Saints a team so terrible that fans took to covering their heads with grocery sacks and subbing the team the "Aints." Archie began and ended his career there, enduring a grotesque 1-15 season in 1980. He never saw a playoff game or even a winning season, but was treated to plenty of turfside views of the Super Dome ceiling. "I got a lot of nagging injuries, he says, the syllables dropping over one another in a good-ol'-boy drawl that's thicker than his son's. "I wound up playing only about half of the time. I wasn't able to answer the bell every Sunday."

His son was only 8 when Archie hung up his cleats, so Peyton doesn't have many fursthand memories of his dad's pro career - and that's probably for the best. Instead, he listened to tapes of his father's college games and fantasized about gridiron glory. "As a kid, I had dreams," says Peyton, who'll wear his father's college number, 18. "As I got older, I realized how hard that would be (to play in the NFL.) I got into high school and thought I might have a chance to play college. And then, my sophomore year in college, I thought I might get a chance to play in the NFL. I didn't have the idea as a 7-year-old that I would play in the NFL. I just loved sports."

It was fairly obvious to football authorities who spent time with the Mannings that Peyton was developing into something more than a small-time high school jock. First-year Colts coach Jim Mora, who guided the New Orleans Saints from 1986 to '96 while Archie was the team's color commentator, recalls how young Peyton caught his eye, too. "Peyton was around the (team) facility some," he says. "Once, we were having off-season, informal workouts, and Archie called me and asked if Peyton (who was in high school) could come over and hang out a little bit. Even as a high school senior, we could tell he was going to be a special player. But you don't ever envision a (kid) being a No. 1 draft pick."

Manning finished second (to Michigan defensive back Charles Woodson) in Heisman Trophy voting after his senior year. Shortly thereafter, the Horseshoes made him their top draft choice. According to president Bill Polian, the colts didn't know until draft day whether they would tap Manning or Washing State's Ryan Leaf, a strapping, cocky QB whose stock rose dramatically after he led his team to the Rose Bowl. When they finally went for Manning, they did it for his brains, not his considerable brawn. "We felt that, given all the pressure of coming in and playing right away - that was in part of the job description - and following Jim Harbaugh and being the No. 1 choice in the draft, that Peyton was more equipped to handle that than Ryan was," Polian says.

There will be plenty to handle. Just ask Colts offensive lineman Tony Mandarich, who flamed out with the Green Bay Packers after they selected him with the second pick in the 1989 draft. "I brought (the pressure) on myself," says Mandarich, who was saddled with a renegade reputation. "I'd gotten the exposure from football and then did some antics that made it a crazier deal. Peyton's already doing things a lot different than I did. His (approach) is much better than mine was."

The April selection of Manning appeared to be popular with Colts fans. The team's Web site took more than 180,000 hits in a two-day span after the draft, and phones in the Colts ticket office suddenly came to life. But while fans may see s savior, Polian says they should temper their burning expectations with a cold shower of realism. "Great quarterbacks aren't built in a day," says the first-year Colts president. "Don't believe all the hype. He'll be a fine quarterback before it's over - sooner than later. But it won't be immediately."

Even under the best of circumstances (and Manning won't face anything like the best of circumstances), rookie pass masters rarely set the league on fire. In recent years, only two quarterbacks, the Dolphins' Dan Marino and the Carolina Panters' Kerry Collins, have lead teams to winning records during their initial campaigns. More frequently, rookies spend their first year attending the school of hard knocks. And the worse their team, the harder the knocks. "The analogy would be going from eighth-grade math to college calculus in one step," Polian says. "The quarterback has to grasp it all and call the plays. The he has to understand, to play effectively, everyone else's role. It's impossible to do all three with effectiveness early on."

It's especially difficult when you play for the team that was the NFL's worst the previous season. Indeed, Manning landed here only because the Colts' 3-13 record earned them the first pick in the 1998 draft. Ominously, last season's club was the league's second worst in the number of sacks allowed, and will rely on young receivers and a revamped offensive line this year. That's not great news for an inexperienced signal-caller - not to mention a guy whose right knee injury in December gave pro scouts pause.

Manning merely shrugs his thick-muscled shoulders. "If you're the No. 1 (pick), part of it is you're going to go to the team with the worst record," he says. "Not necessarily the worse team, but the one with the worst record. It's exciting to be part of that challenge. All I want to do is win gams. I'll have some big passing days and some not so big."

While Peyton refers to his father as his "go-to guy for advice," he might also spend some face time with former Colts quarterback Jack Trudeau, who played from 1986 through '93. Like Peyton, he found himself in the starter's spot during his first year - an overwhelming responsibility exacerbated by the Colts' porous offensive line. The team lost its first 13 games, prompting a coaching change.

"There was a stretch during that season where for the first time I didn't enjoy football," says Trudeau, who lives in Zionsville and serves as president of nearby Wolf Run Golf Club. "From the minute I cashed my check at the bank I was miserable, because I knew I had to go out and do it again. The pressure was on us because we weren't winning, and on me, because I was the quarterback. A lot of young guys play their rookie year, and it affects them forever. When you play your first year on a team that's not very good, it's easy to lose your confidence."

Polian seems determined to keep the Colts from yielding to the seductive pass-now, think-later temptation. Perhaps most important, he hired Mora - a blue-collar coach whose teams in New Orleans traditionally had strong rushing attacks - to replace Lindy Infante, who is known more for pass-intensive play calling. And of course, star running back Marshall Faulk, another New Orleans native, is still in the Colts stable. While he's failed to surpass the performance of his rookie season. Faulk has managed to average 1,000 rushing yards through his first four years in the league.

"The No. 1 guy who can make (Manning) effective, more than anything, is Marshall Faulk," Polian says. "The best thing that has happened to Peyton is to have Marshall Faulk to hand the ball to." After all, each time Faulk carries the pigskin is one less time Manning can get clobbered while trying to pass. And if opposing teams have to worry about covering a top-notch running back, they can't chase the quarterback quite as often - or as relentlessly.

But will the presence of Faulk, coupled with a rebuilt roster and front office, be enough to keep Fate from dragging Manning through the mud?

Manning shrugs his shoulders again, recalling his dinner with Joe Montana last winter at Emeril's, a trendy contemporary Cajun restaurant in New Orleans. There they sat, arguable the best quarterback and possibly the best quarterback of the future, mulling Manning's career. Montana offered this tidbit of wisdom: it's not all going to happen right away. If you have a bad experience, keep coming back.