Hero Worship

Dear Mr. Manning,

This is my daughter Peyton. She is 8 months old, and the most adorable, precocious, and sweet spirited baby you will ever meet (except for your own, of course). She is a wiggler, a giggler, a smiler, and is in fact named after you. She might not be fond of being named after a male football player when she's 15, but if it wasn't this, then I'm sure she'd find something else to be angry at us for. 

Many people who don't know us well assume that my husband chose her name and that he's the big NFL fan, but it was in fact me; I've known for years that I would name one of my children after you, boy or girl. I've been your fan since you were drafted, and have watched you take the Colts from the worst team in the NFL (I have proof in the form of a Monopoly board) to being Super Bowl champions. And when you became a Bronco, it brought me full circle, back to my dad who has been a lifelong-live-and-die-with-them-don't-talk-to-him-till-Monday-if-they-lose-on-Sunday Broncos fan.

You see, naming my daughter after a football player goes even deeper than regular hero worship. It's about a connection with my dad. The type of connection that I long for between my daughter and her daddy, and that you hopefully are already developing with your own. When I was 12, I wanted nothing more than my dad's approval and attention. And some days it seemed like he wanted nothing more than a second Super Bowl title for John Elway. So I had a choice to make: learn to be content being ignored when the Broncos were on, or to learn about football.  I chose football. Young as I was, I still knew a thing or two about the fun of rivalry, so I knew I couldn't cheer for the Broncos. But I have a tender heart, and I didn't really know anything about deep-seated team loyalty, and so I chose to cheer for the worst team in the league, because they needed fans too! 

Fifteen years have gone by and my dad will still call to see if I'm watching the game. He saved a message I left on his answering machine after you beat the Patriots in the last unbelievable 34 seconds of a game. (I'm still a girl, so I couldn't tell you which game or what year!) I love my dad, and choosing to learn about football was one of the best choices I've ever made.  He is one of my heroes, someone who taught me how to love something like football, but how to have your priorities straight.

Thank you for the integrity with which you have played the game. Thank you for taking the game seriously, but not yourself too seriously. Thank you for honoring your brother when you talk about playing him. Thank you for being someone that I feel comfortable having my kids look up to. Thank you for the class with which you transitioned to the Broncos. And thank you for having a great name which I could pass on to my daughter (because let's face it, she may never have forgiven us if we named her Reggie or Champ).

Most Sincerely,
Kali Hocking