Oddly enough, that orange and navy swish style just doesn’t seem to suit a guy who wore nothing from Bright Dutch for an entire college career.
Seeing Peyton Manning in that Tennessee Volunteers cyan-like colo(u)r is always kind of humo(u)rous, because it reminds you that he wasn’t always a God and that he was once a kid. You know, like how we all make fashion mistakes as young punks with flat-brimmed hats and Ugg boots, Manning and NFL prodigies do it in college, where the Oregon Ducks play in the equivalent of Saran Wrap and UCLA is decked out in a bright blue as feminine as the Italian soccer team.
Seeing Manning as a kid reminds you that you were just like him once, but seeing him as a Bronco is eery. Strange. Twisted.
That Colts blue was legendary, and somewhat dull, but Manning has always appeared to be the guy with everything in place, and nothing is flashy except the sawdust flying off his perfectly spiraled passes.
Manning made Indianapolis, and now he’s a Bronco, throwing bullets past the Steelers secondary and into the endzone once cultivated by a guy named John Elway – his current boss and former quarterback who Manning has surpassed in career greatness.
The Broncos never ditched the orange, even if they bailed on it as their primary colour for a few years.
Manning, though, has gone form kid to adult to kid.
Actually, it’s a little refreshing.