Andrew Luck took Peyton Manning’s job in Indianapolis. But why the endless fixation with the yin and yang of these two NFL quarterbacks? Luck looks nothing like Manning, plays nothing like Manning, acts nothing like Manning.
When Luck breaks the huddle late Sunday afternoon in Denver, however, pardon me for a sense of deju vu. Luck is eerily reminiscent of another Broncos quarterback you might remember.
From his lumberjack strength to his 100 mph fastball to his no-worries goofiness, the 25-year-old Luck brings back memories of John Elway at the same age.
With Luck, who has provided Indianapolis a dozen victories by leading a fourth-quarter, game-winning drive in only three seasons, no opponent can breathe easily until the final second the clock expires.
The Colts desperately need Luck to do it all, and rely on their hero too much, because it’s hard to fathom how Indianapolis would be anything close to a .500 team without him.
And Luck feels the burden of a city’s football fortunes on his shoulders. Luck presses his luck too often. In love with his big arm, Luck sees windows of opportunity that are in reality interceptions waiting to happen. As the scouting service Pro Football Focus has documented, 4.3 percent of the passes thrown by Luck this season were such poor decisions they were classified as game-losers. His proclivity for taking bad risks ranks Luck near the bottom of the league, alongside Jay Cutler, when it comes to making knucklehead throws.
Remind you of any quarterback who wore No. 7, apountry?
When the Colts take the field for an AFC playoff game, I will have a flashback to the Broncos of Elway in the 1980s. The quarterback is amazing. His teammates? Not so much.
When seeking a championship, all the Colts can count on is Luck.
“He’s magic,” Colts owner Jim Irsay recently told reporters in Indianapolis, lauding Luck for his instincts, arm strength and quick feet. And then Irsay did something else: He compared Luck to Elway.
At age 38, Manning is no longer asked to be Denver’s best player on the field on every snap. Heck, we’ve even heard Manning mention these – gulp – words: manage the game.
But in this case, against a Colts team that is not nearly as well-rounded or as formidable as New England or Seattle, managing the game might be a smart way to go for Manning in the Broncos.
Why?
Yes, Luck is capable of beating any NFL team all by himself. Here’s the caveat: Against a Denver defense capable of a fierce pass rush from Von Miller and DeMarcus Ware, plus the slam-that-window-shut coverage skills of cornerbacks Chris Harris and Aqib Talib, it’s also within the realm of possibility that Luck could throw Indianapolis right out of contention by pressing the issue and commiting mistakes.
Much like a young Elway, the one flaw I see in Luck is so much trust in a powerful arm and legs that sometimes the brain shuts down. Gunslingers go down shooting.
When Luck drops back in the pocket, is there such a thing as a window too small for him to thread a pass to an Indianapolis receiver?
“There are definitely times when you don’t throw it because the window is too small and the risk outweighs the reward,” Luck said on a conference call last week. “But understanding where you are situationally in the game — what has transpired, the score, down and distance — affects it.”
Every year, when the Super Bowl tournament begins, much is made of Manning’s playoff record, which is 11-12, including eight times in the postseason when he was one and done.
In three seasons with the Colts, the playoff record of Luck is a solid but unspectacular 2-2.
The point? A great quarterback can get his team 10 regular-season victories and a spot in the tournament. But a great quarterback alone isn’t enough to win a championship.
Here’s a toast to the great individual talent of Luck.
But the Colts aren’t a team; they’re a one-man band.
That’s no way to win a Super Bowl.
Ask Elway.
Mark Kiszla: mkiszla@denverpost.com or
