Thank You, Sheriff

Dear Peyton Manning,

I just wanted to say thank you. Not because you were the greatest or because you did this incredible thing for me, but because for the last 20 years, you’ve had more of an impact on my life than any other athlete.

We both began this incredible journey together. I was born on January 25,1996. You were drafted in 1998. I wasn’t even three years old before I owned your rookie card. We had an instant bond that you never knew about, but I did.

I don’t think I even was five years old when I screamed at the TV for the first time. No, I wasn’t an Indianapolis Colts’ fan. I fell in love with the Steel City, Pittsburgh Steelers. That is where our relationship really began to become more than a football game.

I hated you. Each and every time the Steelers played you, I wished nothing but a total domination over your team. I’ll never feel bad about that; it’s part of football. People hate success, and you taught me that. When you won the Super Bowl for the first time, I couldn’t even be happy about it. I watched the game with my uncle, a Chicago Bears’ fan, and wore a Devin Hester jersey the entire time.

As I grew up, I began to realize you weren’t the terrible person I thought you were. I got to know you. I watched you and found out what you were like. I learned you were humble and honest. What I really learned is that I didn’t hate you. Then, you got hurt. I never wanted to see anyone injure themselves, especially someone with such greatness. You don’t know me, but we connected during that injury. You were abandoned, at least in my eyes. A team you’ve given your life to lets you go after one season. It wasn’t right. I knew why they did it, but I didn’t accept it. Especially because they replaced you with a player I didn’t like as much as I once didn’t like you (Andrew Luck).

I didn’t know that you being released was the best thing that could have happened to me. Well, us. You joined the last team I thought I wanted you to, my father’s favorite team. I’m selfish, I didn’t want to see the Broncos succeed because I knew they’d get in the way of the Steelers. I also didn’t want anyone else to experience winning more than I have.

I didn’t realize that it would make me appreciate sports even more. I never respected anyone other than a Steeler. NO ONE. Who I did respect though, more than anyone in this entire world, was my father. I knew as much about the Denver Broncos as I did the Steelers, so understandably, I began to know you even more. Not just as a player, but as a person. He spoke of your family, your interviews, your humbleness, and like any son, I listened. Over the years, you became way more to me than a football player. I knew you and respected you like a friend.

Then you played in Super Bowl 48. No, I wasn’t rooting for you. Like everyone else, I fell for the badasses that were the Seattle Seahawks. I sat and watched as you were beaten and bruised. I didn’t stay silent, though. I yelled, I cheered, and I smiled as you fell farther and farther behind. My dad went to bed before the end of the third quarter, and I realized, as well as everyone else in my house, we screwed up.

At that moment, you became the player I wanted to succeed if the Steelers didn’t. I cheered you on from that point, one game at a time.

This season, my heart melted when you missed games. I took my dad to see you play the Steelers, but what I really wanted him to see was you. He didn’t get to, but we weren’t too upset. We knew that to get to where you are, you need to sacrifice. I only cheered against you one other time that season. The AFC Divisional round when you played the Steelers once again. What really sucked was that I wasn’t upset. I didn’t get mad or cry, I felt okay with you beating the Steelers one more time.

When you played Tom Brady for the last time, I won’t lie, I teared up. I’m a sports fan, I hate to see changes like this. When greatness ends, when the greatest NFL rivalry of all time ends, as a sports fan, I can’t help but be upset. But it felt right. I was so thrilled to see you take down Brady one last time on your journey to the Super Bowl.

Then it really hit me. Watching not only you, but also the Denver Broncos win a Super Bowl with my dad was one of the best moments of my life. I’ve watched the Steelers win two, I’ve had my turn. Being able to see his face whenever Von Miller stripped the ball and hearing his excitement during the game was a moment any father and son can only dream of sharing. Well, you made it possible, Peyton. Thank you.

We’ve had a journey over the last 20 years that I haven’t had with almost anyone else. I know you don’t know me, but you’ve become a friend. If this is the end, I’ll miss you, but I won’t be upset. Seeing the Sheriff ride off on top gives me hope for what my side of this journey has in store. There’s nothing more I can say. One day, I hope to see you again.

Thanks for the ride Sheriff,

Noah Strackbein