How Manning cut out the Bears' heart
NFL commissioner Roger Goodell had assured me in midweek that Super Bowl halftime artist Prince was aware of the embarrassment Janet Jackson's bare boob had caused the league a few years back.
''I think everything is in balance,'' rookie Goodell said, explaining the league's desire to keep its events G-, not G-string, rated. ''Prince, I've heard, understands.''
The little purple guy with the mighty red Corvette understands silhouettes, for sure.
When he stood in profile with his phallic guitar casting a shadow on the white gauze waving behind him, I nearly spat my free soda out of the press box.
Looked like still life from a horse pasture at rutting season.
''Yes, I saw it,'' Goodell told me later that night, shaking his head wearily.
Can't stop rain.
Sure can't stop purple rain.
Just as the Bears could not stop the high-speed offensive attack of the Colts' Peyton Manning.
Much has been made of Rex Grossman's failings as the Bears' quarterback. And it's likely his ranking as the No. 29 quarterback in the league (based on his regular-season passer rating of 73.9) is a fair indication of his worth. (Indeed, in Super Bowl XLI, he was even worse, with a 68.3 rating.)
But Manning, when he's on, is off the charts.
To chat with him in the locker room, after the blog creatures and heavily perfumed TV anchormen and women have left, is to hear a surgeon describe his best scalpel work. (A note on those TV animals: At one point Sunday night, it got so close to a throw-down catfight between two wee TV ladies jockeying for position at Manning's locker that I thought fur was burning.)
Manning felt so in control despite the sloppy conditions that he almost laughed at his few mistakes.
''On that first throw [tipped by Bears linebacker Brian Urlacher], Dallas ran the wrong route,'' he said, meaning his tight end, Dallas Clark.
And the long interception he threw to end the first series was ''like a punt.''
He looked at shifts, leans, pre-snap rotations, and he knew he was king.
He saw players' eyes grow large with uncertainty.
He saw Bears defenders gasping for air.
''We used the tempo hard on them,'' Manning said. ''I could see them getting tired.''
He explained how the refs usually will not stop play to bring in a new ball as long as ''the ball stays between the hash marks,'' and how sometimes he couldn't keep pounding the Bears the way he wanted because he needed a drier ball.
''We tried to get them with 12 men on the field, but we couldn't,'' he lamented.
What he could get was a Bears defense that was at his mercy.
He saw the Bears go to what he called a ''wristband defense,'' with certain players looking at wrist cards to help with adjustments.
He chastised TV commentator Deion Sanders for giving away some secret stuff that was too confusing and arcane for this scribe to follow, but he admitted he picked apart the Bears anyway.
''The idea is to keep from letting them breathe,'' he said after reeling off 81 offensive plays to the Bears' 48.
On his no-huddle, shotgun-formation 53-yard touchdown pass to wide-open receiver Reggie Wayne, Manning saw the Bears break down entirely.
''They were in two different defenses on that,'' he said. ''No question. They were in cover-2, and one safety was in man.''
Certain?
''No question.''
Manning was shrewd enough to avoid jumping into a pile-up on a fumble so as to avoid the possibility of reinjuring his bruised right thumb.
The joint itself was swollen from an injury he got in the AFC Championship Game, and you could see where the top part of the nail was still black-and-blue from getting bent backward on teammate Tarik Glenn's helmet.
He was smart enough to change all his clothes at halftime, too, to shed the sodden gear and put on dry socks, pants, jersey, etc. Any advantage.
''Halftime was sure long enough,'' he said with a chuckle. Manning turned to older brother Cooper, standing in street clothes a few feet away. ''How was Prince?''
I mentioned the video footage going around on television specials, showing Peyton, Cooper and third sibling Eli playing ''tackle'' football in the Manning's New Orleans back yard when they were tiny kids.
Peyton gets his huge helmet pulled off his little head and his jersey yanked, and he starts whining and then crying.
''I was filming,'' Pop recalled. ''It was the start of Christmas vacation. And he was mad at me, too. Yelling at me. I said, 'Oh, don't be a baby.'''
And the little Super Bowl quarterback in development, the brilliant tactician, what did he do?
''He looked at me,'' Archie said, ''and he says, 'I'm gonna tell Mom what her Christmas present is.'''
You can't beat this guy.
He's worse than rock 'n' roll.
Letters to our sports columnists appear Sunday. Send e-mail to inbox@suntimes.com. Include your full name, hometown and a daytime phone number.
NFL commissioner Roger Goodell had assured me in midweek that Super Bowl halftime artist Prince was aware of the embarrassment Janet Jackson's bare boob had caused the league a few years back.
''I think everything is in balance,'' rookie Goodell said, explaining the league's desire to keep its events G-, not G-string, rated. ''Prince, I've heard, understands.''
The little purple guy with the mighty red Corvette understands silhouettes, for sure.
When he stood in profile with his phallic guitar casting a shadow on the white gauze waving behind him, I nearly spat my free soda out of the press box.
Looked like still life from a horse pasture at rutting season.
''Yes, I saw it,'' Goodell told me later that night, shaking his head wearily.
Can't stop rain.
Sure can't stop purple rain.
Just as the Bears could not stop the high-speed offensive attack of the Colts' Peyton Manning.
Much has been made of Rex Grossman's failings as the Bears' quarterback. And it's likely his ranking as the No. 29 quarterback in the league (based on his regular-season passer rating of 73.9) is a fair indication of his worth. (Indeed, in Super Bowl XLI, he was even worse, with a 68.3 rating.)
But Manning, when he's on, is off the charts.
To chat with him in the locker room, after the blog creatures and heavily perfumed TV anchormen and women have left, is to hear a surgeon describe his best scalpel work. (A note on those TV animals: At one point Sunday night, it got so close to a throw-down catfight between two wee TV ladies jockeying for position at Manning's locker that I thought fur was burning.)
Manning felt so in control despite the sloppy conditions that he almost laughed at his few mistakes.
''On that first throw [tipped by Bears linebacker Brian Urlacher], Dallas ran the wrong route,'' he said, meaning his tight end Dallas Clark.
And the long interception he threw to end the first series was ''like a punt.''
He looked at shifts, leans, pre-snap rotations, and he knew he was king.
He saw players' eyes grow large with uncertainty.
He saw Bears defenders gasping for air.
''We used the tempo hard on them,'' Manning said. ''I could see them getting tired.''
He explained how the refs usually will not stop play to bring in a new ball as long as ''the ball stays between the hash marks,'' and how sometimes he couldn't keep pounding the Bears the way he wanted because he needed a drier ball.
''We tried to get them with 12 men on the field, but we couldn't,'' he lamented.
What he could get was a Bears defense that was at his mercy.
He saw the Bears go to what he called a ''wristband defense,'' with certain players looking at wrist cards to help with adjustments.
He chastised TV commentator Deion Sanders for giving away some secret stuff that was too confusing and arcane for this scribe to follow, but he admitted he picked apart the Bears anyway.
''The idea is to keep from letting them breathe,'' he said after reeling off 81 offensive plays to the Bears' 48.
On his no-huddle, shotgun-formation 53-yard touchdown pass to wide-open receiver Reggie Wayne, Manning saw the Bears break down entirely.
''They were in two different defenses on that,'' he said. ''No question. They were in cover-2, and one safety was in man.''
Certain?
''No question.''
Manning was shrewd enough to avoid jumping into a pile-up on a fumble so as to avoid the possibility of reinjuring his bruised right thumb.
The joint itself was swollen from an injury he got in the AFC Championship Game, and you could see where the top part of the nail was still black-and-blue from getting bent backward on teammate Tarik Glenn's helmet.
He was smart enough to change all his clothes at halftime, too, to shed the sodden gear and put on dry socks, pants, jersey, etc. Any advantage.
''Halftime was sure long enough,'' he said with a chuckle. Manning turned to older brother Cooper, standing in street clothes a few feet away. ''How was Prince?''
Dad Archie Manning, the old NFL quarterback who never won a playoff game, was nearby, beaming.
I mentioned the video footage going around on television specials, showing Peyton, Cooper and third sibling Eli playing ''tackle'' football in the Mannings' New Orleans backyard when they were tiny kids.
Peyton gets his huge helmet pulled off his little head and his jersey yanked, and he starts whining and then crying.
''I was filming,'' Pop recalled. ''It was the start of Christmas vacation. And he was mad at me, too. Yelling at me. I said, 'Oh, don't be a baby.'''
And the little Super Bowl quarterback in development, the brilliant tactician, what did he do?
''He looked at me,'' Archie said, ''and he says, 'I'm gonna tell Mom what her Christmas present is.'''
You can't beat this guy.
He's worse than rock 'n' roll.
Letters to our sports columnists appear Sunday. Send e-mail to inbox@suntimes.com. Include your full name, hometown and a daytime phone number.