Sunday Drive - Page 3

Manning grinds each bite with a circular muscularity, something less than chomping, something more than simple chewing. He maintains eye contact, listens thoughtfully, shakes off praise. That politeness—the cornerstone of his brilliantly self-deprecating, thoroughly self-aware television presence in commercials, on Saturday Night Live, and at press conferences—defines every human transaction for him. And while he has promised a little time to talk about his decade in Indianapolis and the changes he has witnessed in himself and the city, he never seems rushed, never watches the clock. He doesn’t seem to have any other place he wants to be.

“When I came here,” Manning says, “there really wasn’t a lot of football tradition. I had been expecting Johnny Unitas, Raymond Berry, and Gino Marchetti to visit us at practice. But, you know, they hated us. We had made a little run with Harbaugh. Dickerson and Faulk were great backs. But you know, I was coming from the SEC, from Knoxville. There were 100,000 people at our home games. There was a lot of history, and I knew it all. There wasn’t a lot of past to lean on here. In a lot of ways, we were challenged to make our own history. And I have no problem with the course of that history so far.”

It’s still summer, and there is little urgency in the Colts’ complex. The building has all the tension of a sleepy suburban public library. Presence, at this time of year, is the premium commitment, one marked by low tones, by a wave and a nod from the enduring all-pro. Manning doesn’t leave—not the city, not the complex, not easily. He makes a short-hop commute from his northside home every morning, like some box-of-donuts sales associate slagging hours in service to the company. He is as humble about the job, about the price of obligation, as he is appreciative of where he is at any moment.

“This is my home,” he says, “and we wanted it that way from the start.” He regularly plays local golf courses in the offseason—Crooked Stick, Meridian Hills, Bear Slide, Trophy Club—with lineman Jeff Saturday and tight end Dallas Clark. He keeps a downtown condominium for the hours after the games on Sunday.

“I like to keep a downtown presence. I may go up to the condo to watch Eli’s game, or visit my family. Or I might gather the team. I grew up in New Orleans, a great city, and I want the young guys to get to know downtown Indianapolis. I always liked the fact that the Dome is so close, and the new stadium is only a nine-iron away,” he says. “At the end of the day, that’s where my office is. I wouldn’t trade playing here for anywhere.” He means the city now as much as the team. “I’ve watched this place transform. You look around downtown and you sense how much the Colts’ kicking butt has to do with the city’s growth. I’m proud of that. I know Coach Dungy is, and Mr. Irsay, most of all.”