There may be some of you who, when reading this, will want to say, "Oh, come on, Tim, it's only football." Maybe so, but I hope that I can provide you with a different perspective after you hear my story.
In the 1977 NFL season, I was an eighteen year old working as a cook at a popular steak house in Cheyenne, Wyoming. I had just graduated high school. My interest in the NFL was minimal. What few interests I had were focused on where the next party may be and drinking beer. My hobbies, what few there were at the time, were focused mainly on art and music, rather than sports. However, something incredible was happening at this time in Denver, Colorado and the whole surrounding area, including Wyoming.
My father is fond of telling everyone that my family has followed the Denver Broncos for years before the Miracle season in 1977. We would listen to them on the radio while we were out camping or arrowhead hunting. I do not recall it because as a youngster, I did not have the attention span to watch an entire game on TV, let alone listen to one on the radio. Larry Zimmer and Bob Martian would call out the plays through the old, small speaker in the dashboard of our Jeep Wagoneer as we bounced around the Wyoming country side. You had to be a really dedicated fan in those days through all of the years of ineptitude. But, we were and still are.
1977 was a special year for Bronco fans, from Colorado and Wyoming, or anywhere else. This would come to be known as a Miracle season and for many reasons. Before this year, nine was the highest number of wins in one season. Never had the Broncos made the play-offs, seldom did they beat their AFC Western Division rivals the hated Oakland Raiders or the dreaded Kansas City Chiefs. This year, they would not only win twelve, and only lose two, but they would make the play-offs. With each win, the fever grew. Broncomania became a household word. Suddenly, Orange Crush soda was the most popular drink around. People would gather in local bars on Monday nights to throw bricks at Howard Cosell for not playing highlights of our games. No one could hardly wait for Sunday to get here. Time just did not go by fast enough. When the game was near the end and we were ahead, time seemed to not move at all. Monday mornings were a time of great joy. Those who had never gotten along with each other before now were as brothers. Part of the same family of the Bronco faithful. When the play-offs came around, the real Miracle season unfolded.
First up was the defending Super Bowl Champions, the Pittsburgh Steelers. This team would go down in NFL history as the team of the 70's, winners of four championships in five years. The Broncos would just keep going with what they had been practicing all year, great defense and an offense that scored enough to win the game. What made this special, though, was not that the Broncos had won the AFC West for the first time, but they had the best record in the NFL. That gave them home field advantage, which made this first ever play-off victory all the sweeter having happened at home in Mile High Stadium.
Next was the Oakland Raiders. Oh, those Raiders. The dirtiest players in the NFL. John Madden, the most brash coach in the NFL. The one team that all true Bronco fans hate. The Broncos had lost one of the two meetings this fine year to them, and revenge would be on the Broncos' side this game. That, and Lady Luck on a break they got on a questionable touchdown call. To this day, you ask any fan from back in the day, and they'll tell you how they still have a hard time believing that the Broncos would have been the1977 AFC Championships before the season started.
Boy, was it a great time to be alive. Wow, could there be any better place to be than here in this wonderful atmosphere. I was working on that warm Sunday afternoon in January. I came home from work, just before the game was over to find my mother watching the game. She was in her rocking chair, less than two feet from the TV. Her attention was totally focused on the screen. There was nothing else in her world, nothing but that great, great game. As I went by her on my way to my bedroom, I looked over here shoulders to see that they were winning.
After I changed my clothes, I came back out of my bedroom to see the end of the game. What I would see is a sight that is as vivid as if were only an hour ago. On the TV screen was a sea of orange down on the playing field. Floating on this sea of orange was a bright yellow goal post. The whole stadium was celebrating what was the sweetest moment in their Bronco lives', celebrating what would become one of the sweetest victories in Bronco history. At this moment, nothing else mattered. There was no pain, no hate, no fear, no evil, only the greatest feeling in the World.
However, the Miracle Season would fall short. The heart ache of losing the Big Game to the Dallas Cowboys would dampen the spirits of the Bronco faithful, but it could never take away that special feeling from that wonderful day.
It was hard not to get caught up in all of the fun and excitement that year. My interest grow with each win that year. By the time Super Bowl XII started, I was on the Bronco bandwagon, never to jump off. Through out these past twenty-four plus years, through thick and thin, I was in it for all of the pain and glory. I would eat, sleep, and drink Denver Bronco football. You cut me, I bleed Orange. Soon, things around me would be Orange. My clothes, my truck, my room, all Orange. Nothing would interfere with the Bronco games. No shopping, no traveling, no partying, no phone calls, not even the promise of sex from my wife.
II
Through out these past twenty-four or so years since that Miracle, a few other miracle years have happened. Miracles in many different ways.
As a teenager, I grew up angry. A lot of it got directed toward my parents. Our relationship was hostile at best. On the few occasions that we would communicate, it would be with yelling, harsh words, and sarcasm. However, in 1978, that would begin to change. Following that Miracle season, we would gather together in front of the TV on Sundays afternoons for the Games. Soon, we had pleasant words to exchange among us, usually having to do with the Broncos. As the weeks and seasons would go by, we became closer and closer. After a few years, we could even have long conversations, some that would not even include the Broncos. Whatever tension and anger that was there before some how got lost on a football field of orange and blue. Hostility gave way to a wonderful tradition that is still going strong to this day.
Family night would actually be family Sunday afternoons. Lunches were, and still are, planed around the Games. Birthday parties, Thanksgiving dinners, weddings, our entire life's, all around the Games. All out of town family members, all friends, co-workers, girlfriends, boyfriends, and spouses know that any phone calls or other activities, no matter how important, will have to be addressed either before or after the game. Unless it's half time, the phone will not even get answered during the game.
Somehow, picking out gifts for each other is no problem. Anything Broncos, and anything orange, can be the first, and sometimes the only, gifts of choice. Not just shirts, but jackets, gloves, hats, pants, socks, even underwear. Coffee mugs, earrings, coolers, licenses plates covers, wallets, you name it. You can even count on the wrapping paper being Bronco orange and blue.
You can stop by on Sundays during the season and see us in our lucky orange shirts or lucky Bronco earrings, watching the Games. Each new addition to the family, either new born, or through marriage, would soon be sporting orange and blue.
Then we got the taste for seeing the games live. Bronco tickets are tough to get, but we seemed to be able to find some on occasion. Money has been a huge issue. Driving the hundred miles to the games, finding parking, fighting traffic and the inclement weather are rough, but never a complete deterrent. We all just bundle up in our Christmas and birthday gifts and drive down to the Games. Then in 1988, we were able to purchase season tickets. These days, it's a huge struggle for us to pay for our tickets and we often have to sell some of them. We hang on to the rights, though, and we hardly ever sell to anyone who is not a Bronco fan.
Through all of those years and all of those Games, good, bad, or indifferent, we became a family. Whatever differences we had, whatever troubles or problems, would wait until the Game was over. Somewhere, during one of those football seasons, we would become a family all week long. Even during the off season, we had a common ground, our love for the Denver Broncos. Not only did we become close through the Broncos, but we became a tight net team, with Pride and Determination.
We love our Broncos and let no man challenge because we are the truest, best, most dedicated fans. We'll fight to the bitter end, especially my mom, to prove it. Sure, there are others who love them as much as she does, but none more. Watch out those who have a negative word to say about them, you're in for it.
III
Just a short fifteen minutes or so after the final gun sounded in the 1996 divisional play-off game, I pulled my old, beater of a car into the driveway. My heart and my head were heavy with dejection, a pain that I have come to know all too well. Slowly, I reached up and turned the car off.
This was the year that the Broncos would finally win it all. We went 13 and 3, won the AFC West, and had home field advantage in the greatest stadium in the NFL. They had finally found a balanced offense. They had one of the best coaches in football. They made some great free agent moves that put the finishing touches on a very good defense. We were heavy favorites over the lowest seeded team in the playoffs, the Jacksonville Jaguars. They were an expansion team, just one year in the league, who had surprisingly beat a better team in the first round.
My son was now old enough to be playing flag football. The name of his team was the Jaguars. My parents had went to the game down in Denver. I figured I would use the AFC Championship tickets and skip this game, letting the person I had sold some our tickets to go to the game. Trevor was routing for the Jags, because of his flag football team, but also, because I never pushed the Broncos on him. I always left it up to him to pick (Grandma was a different story, though). He wasn't much into the NFL at the time, anyway. Watching the games would be kind of a game for him. "Who are you going for, Dad?" he would ask when we weren't watching the Broncos. Some times we made a competition out of if we had chosen opposite teams. This game, we made a pack to do push-ups equal to the other teams points. He would do push-ups if the Broncos scored, I would do them if the Jags scored. By the end of the game, I would do the most push-ups.
As I sat there in my car with my head on the steering wheel, depression began to consume me. Tears swelled up in my eyes. No longer could I hold them back and they slowly rolled down my checks. I could not help but think about how bad this felt. Soon, my whole life at the time trudged by, trampling any hope of finding anything good about it.
"Okay," I mumbled aloud, trying to collect myself. I sat up, looking at the front door of the house, then to the sky. Taking one big breath in, I found some light of reasoning in the darkness of despair.
"Okay, God," I began to say in a loud clear voice, "I know what this feels like." Boy, did I. During all of my love affair with my team, I 'd endured some highs and some huge lows. The lows seemed to stick out more prominent now.
The Broncos had managed to make three more trips back to the Big Dance since 1977, all with drastic results. The worst was in 1989 at Super Bowl XX . Now, there's a vivid memory.
It was late in the fourth quarter, Denver had just gone three and out. The game had been well out of reach since before half time. The TV producers were searching for anything of entertainment value. They showed a close-up of John Elway, the greatest quarterback in the NFL. He was looking up at the scoreboard that read "San Francisco 49er's 55, the Denver Broncos 10." Never had I ever seen such pain and disappointment on anyone's face. That look is usually reserved for a parent who had just heard the bad news about losing a child. The look on his face shattered my heart into a million pieces, a heart that was already feeling his pain. It made me wonder if there really was a God. Now, eight years latter, I knew God a little better, but this was the same old pain and disappointment.
"So," I continued aloud as I looked out of my cracked and dirty windshield. "Please, God, let me know how the other side feels. Please, God and the Universe, let the Broncos win the Super Bowl. Let them win it next year. Allow me to know how it feels, God, please. Let me see how the other end of this pain and disappointment feels." I pulled my keys out and lumbered inside.
Depression would follow me for weeks. Watching the rest of the play-offs made it worse. This is just the way it goes, though, both in sports and in life. You win some, you lose some. There are plenty of teams that have not even made it to the Super Bowl, let alone win it. Ask the loyal followers of the New Orleans Saints.
Non-sports fans may be asking why I've invested my emotions in football or any other sport, anyway? Why would my self-esteem be dependent on the Broncos? Why would an Enlightened person hold such beliefs? Well, I'll tell you.
During the off season, I began to notice a parallel to my life with the Broncos. Many examples would come to mind of how I had tried and tried, worked hard to only come up just short. Somehow, it was just never in the cards for me to achieve much success. I was divorced and had been on a series of failed relationships. I had made two previous attempts at college, only to drop out and fall short of obtaining a degree. I was now in my late thirties, living with my parents. I had a good paying job for a short time just before this sad day in January of 1997, but it did not work out for me. The move in with my parents was to get me through until I had complete college and until I got myself on my feet. It just seemed that in everything I did I would came up short or had to settle for second best.
My-self esteem was shot, but improving. College was going good this time. I had over eight years of sobriety now. God was a huge part of live. Daily, I would be more comfortable with the person I was becoming. The puzzle pieces of my life were coming together, finally. The tall mountain that would be my life's statement no longer seemed insurmountable. Yet, the question still remained: Will I make it the top or fall short?
The feeling of falling short would continue to haunt me, but the 90's had brought a few sweet tastes of victory. The decade began with a Miracle.
My favorite college team, the University of Colorado Buffaloes, would win the National Championship. This was a Miracle because they were a football team that had never even been close before. Then, in 1995, my favorite NHL team, the New Jersey Devils (because they used to be the Colorado Rockies), won the Stanley Cup. Again, enough of an anomaly to get my attention. Then, a huge Miracle.
By 1995, my life was beginning to unfold. The confusion of a seventeen year drug and alcohol addiction had pretty much cleared. I was back in college, this time with a purpose. This time, my life had a purpose. It had meaning. There was also, a new team in town. The National Hockey League came back to Colorado.
The Quebec Nordics moved from Canada to become the Colorado Avalanche. Ironically, this was a team of ineptitude as well. They had never won a Cup, never made it past the first round of the play-offs. Just a few years before this, their first round pick had refused to sign with them partially because they were so bad. This is just salt in the festering wound to a team that is down.
My family and I jumped in with both feet. We had been hockey fans since the 1980 Olympic games (the Miracle on Ice USA team gold medal win). I had cut my teeth on hockey watching the Islanders on the USA Network on cable TV in the early 80's. I became a huge fan of Billy Smith and fell in love with hockey watching them win four Stanley Cups in a row. We got to go to a few Av's games that first season. By the time the play-offs rolled around, we were completely hooked.
After a great regular season, we were glued to the TV watching them have an incredible play-off run. They would beat several great teams on the way to the Stanley Cup Finals. They beat a very good Vancouver Canucks team in the first round, then had an amazing series with an even tougher Chicago Blackhawk's team. Then, they beat the President's trophy winners in the Western Conference finals. The Detroit Red Wings had broken an NHL record for most game victory points in a regular season, but the Av's took them down in six.
Three games and three straight wins in the Cup Finals, the unthinkable was about to happen. The Av's had already beaten the best teams in the NHL and had a commanding three games to nothing lead on the Florida Panthers. Still...
Game four had a late start in our area. My parents, my son, and I were watching the game, but two overtimes latter into a scoreless tie, it was past eleven o'clock. All of us worked very earlier shifts during the week days. We were often in bed by eight, so everyone went to bed, except me. This was a classic game, both goalies would have over fifty saves each. No way was I going to bed, no matter how tired.
As I lie on my bed, watching the game, I became very tired, despite the great action on the TV. A few extremely long minutes into the third over time period, I just wanted any one to score. Many different thoughts and emotions would march through my mind. If the Panthers scored, then it would be better for the Av's to win the Cup on home ice. How fitting would it be for the first major professional team in Colorado history to win a championship in front of the local faithful. Then, doubt would creep in: What if they lost tonight and then lost the rest of the games in the series? So, it better be the Av's to score and get this over with, but damn, am I tired. Then it would start all over again.
This is something of parallel for me and maybe others. This is where you have to give that little something extra. This is where you have to dig down deep and somehow find a way to win. Was this why I had always failed? Is this why I always came up short? Had it been when it got very hard just before I reached the top, that I would get tired and give in?
Then, it finally happened.
On what seemed to be a nonchalant shot from the blue line, Uwe Krupp scored to win the game and the Cup for the Avalanche. As I watched the huge celebration and award ceremony, I felt my self-esteem improve greatly. As I watched Joe Sakic skate around with the Cup held high over his head, a small voice in my head began telling me that I was going to make it. I was going to be successful. For the first time in my life, I would reach the top of that mountain. Not only that, but I was head over heals for the Av's. My respect and admiration had grown during the playoffs, especially after beating the stinking Red Wings, but now it was complete. If I was having a down day, all I had to do was put on my Stanley Cup Champions' T-shirt to remind myself that I was going to make it this time. To this day, there is now way I can say who is my favorite, who I love more, the Broncos or Av's. I love them the same.
IV
The regular season in 1997 began with a huge shock. The Broncos had new uniforms. Gone was our beloved Orange. Sure, it was mixed in slightly, but the primary color was dark blue. My son loved it. He would wear Broncos shirts now. I love the new logo, but I was sad to see our Orange go. It was a huge shock. My parents were angry at first, but I just told myself, "Hey, whatever it takes to get that ring. Maybe it takes some change to get to the top."
As the season went along, it appeared as though God would answer my prayer. They were winning and wining, but late in the season came a huge test. A win against the Kansas City Chiefs in Arrowhead would mean winning the AFC West and having that ever so important home field advantage. The Broncos have had one of the winningest percentages at home throughout the 80's and 90's in the NFL. However, we lost. My Faith that God would answer my prayer bent, but it didn't break. Then, the following week, we lost to the Pittsburgh Steelers, giving us a shot at only one game at home. By the end of the season, we would have to go to the Super Bowl the hard way. The Broncos would have a good record at 11 and 5, but would end up a Wild Card. Only once had a team ever won the Super Bowl as a Wild card team. It seemed insurmountable. There was little hope or speculation of a trip to the Big Game, let alone wining it. Yet I Trusted that God would come through for us.
Through those last few weeks, I noticed that the Broncos had lost their confidence. With the playoffs getting closer came that huge parallel for me, again. The one about when ever I would get close to the top of that mountain, I would fall short. The one were things would go great, I could see, feel, even taste success, but then it would just collapse. It seemed as though I had lost my confidence. My mother was found of saying that the Broncos couldn't stand prosperity. The exact words she would use after they lost to the Steelers this year.
"Not this year," I told her in my mind. This wasn't just about football any more. This was about my life. This wasn't just about me, either. There are tens of thousands of other Bronco faithful who wanted to know how it feels to be Champions. The Broncos were not going to fail and either was I. So, I prayed to God to give them confidence. It would work, for they stomped the San Diego Chargers for the last game of the season to win a wild card spot and earn a first round playoff game at home.
The playoffs would be billed as a revenge tour. First up was the team that had broken
our hearts in last years playoff game. This time, I chose to use our season tickets and go to the game. This time, there would be no push-ups for Trevor and I. This time, I would not take him home to his mother fighting back tears. This time, I would thank God instead of question. This time, I would pray to give them confidence to beat the next opponent, the 13 and 3 Chiefs.
The Broncos crushed the Jags for the first playoff win, but it would be a different story for the Chiefs. Through out the game, I prayed to God to give them confidence. It was fourth down for Kansas City, very late in the fourth quarter. They were down to near the twenty, easy field goal range, but they were behind by four points, 14 to 10. One last try at a short pass in the end zone. They make it, they play again next week in the AFC Championship game here at Arrowhead Stadium. They lose, the Broncos get a little revenge and take another huge step up that mountain.
Trevor and I were watching the game alone, with our lucky, new uniform, John Elway jerseys on (as we had worn for all of the games this year), in my new apartment. I had just moved to Laramie, Wyoming to get my Bachelors degree. This was a huge move for me. There was no job for me yet, money was extremely tight, and I knew no one here. I was following my Heart and took it on Faith that God would take care of me here. I took it on Faith that I would not only get my degree, but get to the top of that mountain. This was just another huge leap in that direction.
"Dear, God" I was asking under my breath, "Please, give them confidence, God. Please."
I was seating on the edge of my seat, totally engrossed in the game. The Chiefs were in the huddle, calling their game wining play.
"Okay," I told Trevor, "They stop 'um here, they go to the Championship game."
"Then they win the Super Bowl?" he asked me.
"No, if they win the AFC Championship game, then they go to the Super Bowl."
"Who will they play?"
"They'll have to beat the Steelers to get to the Super Bowl."
"Are we going to that game?" The Chiefs lined up to run the final play of the game.
"No, they'll have to play in Pittsburgh." The Chiefs quarterback, Elvis Gurbac, began calling out the signals.
"Confidence, please God, give them confidence, confidence, confidence...."
Elvis dropped back to pass and I held my breath. One extremely long, slow moment latter, the pass to Andre Rison hit the red painted grass in the end zone, falling incomplete. I jumped to my feet, giving a mild victory yell. On my way back from dropping Trevor off in Cheyenne, I stopped to savor the moment with my parents before driving back to Laramie.
The following week, Trevor and I sat in my apartment in Laramie again watching the American Football Conference Championship game on TV. The game was close, having a last-minute-fourth-quarter-pick-up-a-huge-first-down-to-win-the-game play in the closing minutes. I was praying again, asking to give them confidence. We watched in great joy as Shannon Sharpe made the big catch, preserving the victory and the trip for the Broncos to the Super Bowl. As I got up to leave and take Trevor home, the phone rang. It was my mother.
"Well, we're not gonna have a party or do anything special for the Super Bowl," she informed me. All of the years past, we had made big occasions out of the Bronco Super Bowls. Lots of family and friends. Lots of Orange everywhere. Orange soda, Orange cup cakes, Orange dip for the chips, even Orange dinner rolls. All of the excitement, though, would be dowsed with pain and disappointment.
"I don't want to jinx them. They've won all of these playoff games with just your Dad and I watching, so were not gonna have a party or anything here."
As I made that hour long drive back to Laramie from Cheyenne after dropping Trevor off, I thought about how this was the moment of Truth. This is when I would find out if God would come through for me. This is when we would always lose. This is when I would fall short of the top of that mountain. This time though, I knew it would be different. This time, I knew God would come through. This time, I knew the Broncos would win, I would win, we would succeeded. I, also, thought about all of my mothers’ request and her superstitions.
Certain shirts, earrings, and other articles of clothing would be put away, never to be worn again if the Broncos had lost. Many times, we would have to follow certain guidelines: sit in a certain chair if we were winning, move if we were losing. Put this shirt on if we were losing, take those earrings off if we lost. Put them back on if we were losing. Confusing, but we all understood and did as Mom asked.
Well, the Big Game finally came. Trevor and I had it all planed out to have dinner during half time: hot-dogs and nachos. We had on our No. 7 jerseys, just like we had for all of the games this year.
It was finally 4:20 PM. Trevor and I were set to go for the kickoff, but I was a little annoyed. It wasn't because of the long, long wait to kick-off. I had skipped watching all of the pre-game stuff. It wasn't because during the last two weeks I had heard nothing but how the Broncos did not have a chance to win against the defending Super Bowl Champion Green Bay Packers. It wasn't how I had heard all week by all of the “experts” that we would not only lose, but lose big, and how we should not even be here. It wasn't that I had had my fill of how we had absolutely no chance in Hell of wining and how the tremendously bigger Packers team would just walk over us, not even breaking a sweat in repeating as Super Bowl Champions. It wasn't that my Faith in God was waning, but the stinking radio.
My family and I have listened to the games for years on the radio as we watched the games on TV. The TV announcers often aggravated us. It seemed that they always have negative things to say about the Broncos or talk about things that have nothing to do with what is going on during the game. Plus, the radio is better about keeping up with injuries. Over the last few years, Dave Logan had called the games for us. Today, however, I could not listen to the radio.
Laramie is in a location that most Denver radio stations do not come in very well. The local station had played the games all year, but for some reason, they were playing music today, not the game. This was a self-professed sports station. The “sports leader” in not just Laramie, but all of Wyoming. So, how could it be that they were not playing the biggest sporting event in the World, especially with one of the teams being local? It's just absurd! (To this day I feel that I missed a very important part of my life) Mom's superstitious voice began to get very loud. However, I just went with it, not allowing it to weaken my Faith.
"This is just a test, that's all. We are going to win, despite this obstacle."
V
Most Super Bowls, especially during the 80's and 90's, were not much for great football entertainment. They had mostly been blowouts. Unless it was your favorite team winning and it was your Promise from God, the commercials were usually better than the game. Not this year, though. Super Bowl XXXII would go down as one of the all time greatest Super Bowls' ever.
As we sat through the National Anthem, I began my Prayers. After I finished, I had a quiet little conversation with God.
"I know you'll come through for me. They will win, I will win. I Trust, my Lord, I Trust."
That evil Demon, Self-doubt, started to creep up from behind me, but I would pan caked him like one of our offensive linemen blocking for a long T.D. touchdown run. No way was I gonna blow it this time. No way.
The game didn't start off to promising, not for a Bronco fan, anyway. The Packers took the opening kickoff and drove down for a touchdown.
"Boy, it sure seemed to be awfully easy for them," the Demon pointed out to me.
"Confidence, God. Please, give them confidence," I answered.
Sure enough, the Broncos would answer with a touchdown of their own. Then, a shift in momentum. Steve Attwater blasted Bret Farve from the blind side, knocking the ball free. Chicken (Tyrone Braxton, my favorite player) would recover the fumble for us. Ten points latter, we had a pretty descent led headed for half time. Confidence was high. I was beginning to relax a little and breath easy. My mind went to my Prayer. I began to think about how many thousands and thousands, yes, even millions of people who would be in state of ultimate joy over this Glorious Victory. Then came a quick scoring drive culminated by a great catch in the end zone by Green Bay's tight end, Mark Chamura, that put the Pack right back in the game, 17 to 14.
"Damn, it! It's just never easy is it?" I thought as I got up to fix Super Bowl half time dinner.
"Okay, there gonna do it," I told myself as I nuked the Velveeta cheese and salsa. "Just relax and enjoy this time with your son." The Demon was quieted for now, but not to far off in the distance. I thought I saw an evil grin on it's face.
"Well, I'll tell you what there, Smart Guy, we've never been ahead at half time before."
By the time the extended half time show was over, dinner was eaten, left-overs put away, and the dishes clean. Trevor and I, with our lucky Elway jerseys, settled in for the second half.
Before I knew it, the Packers were showing us all why they were the defending Super Bowl Champions. By the start of the fourth quarter, they had recaptured the lead, 24 to 17. It seemed as though my Prayers for confidence were wearing thin. The Demon wasn't saying a word, just sitting there with it's arms crossed, grinning from ear to ear. Hey, what would my life be without adversity, anyway? Boy, I sure would like to know, though.
"Dude," I addressed the Demon, "this is John Elway. It's the fourth quarter. You never count us out with John in. Besides, we're only down by seven."
While the commercials played, I told the Demon about all of John's come-from-behind wins. I told him how we (my family and I) never turn the game off, never leave early, no matter what the score. Most times, they would win. Heaven forgive the poor soul that did not stick it out to the sweet end.
"Watch. John'll show you how it's done." And he did.
It was now third down and six from the twelve yard line for the Broncos, late into the fourth quarter.
"Confidence, please."
Close enough for a field goal if there wasn't a shack or a lose on the play, but a touchdown would start to swing the momentum back in our direction.
"Confidence, please, God."
They lined up and John started to call out the signals.
"Confidence, confidence, confidence..."
In typical John Elway style, he dropped back to pass. Unable to find an open receiver, he scrambled out of the pocket in typical John Elway style.
"Come on, John!" I yelled aloud. Yelling aloud at the TV, jumping up and down, screaming as if we were at Mile High Stadium was not only the family tradition, but expected by all others watching with us. It was always, “Come on, John!” or “Let’s go Defense!” It took Trevor several years to figure out that “Defense” wasn’t the name of one of the Broncos.
Then, in typical John Elway style, he began running for the first down.
"Go, John, go!! Go!!!"
What would happen next is not just the defining moment of this game, the defining moment of this great Super Bowl, not just the defining moment in my life, but the defining moment of a great, great career of a great, great quarterback.
As my son and I yelled encouragement to a person nearly a thousand miles away from us, my life unknowingly unfolded in front of me. John had scrambled out past the line of scrimmage to a wide open field.
Watching the game on TV is frustrating to those of us lucky enough to see them live at the stadium. The cameras just don't show enough of the field for us to view during certain plays. The damn camera seems to always be focused to close or missing the real action. By the time John was five yards past the line of scrimmage, there was no one else on the TV screen. There was no way to tell have far he had gone.
"Go!!! Go!!! Go!!!"
Then suddenly, three defenders came from seemly nowhere at seeming three different angles.
"Get down! Get down!!!"
But, in typical John Elway style, he dove head first into the on coming defenders.
I did not miss any NFL game that John played in his career. Seldom did he slide. I'd seen him flatten defensive backs, knock over linebackers, get blasted hard sometimes, just for a few extra inches. This guy came to play, folks. However, it's a good way to get knocked out of the game. That would be really bad right now. Really bad.
I've gotten to hear a few sound bites from the AM 850 KOA radio announcers of this game. This play being one, since it is the defining moment of the game. As John took his head first dive into the three diving Green Bay Packer defenders, this was Scott Hastings’ words:
"Oh!!! Oh!!!"
Exactly what I was thinking. Exactly what I was feeling. Exactly what every Bronco fan around the World that was watching the game was feeling and thinking.
Miraculously, one defender whiffed completely, missing John and both of the other defenders. Another went under John, keeping him airborne, but the third player's hit did not miss. He caught John about the shoulders. John's elongated body, that was sailing about four foot high in the air, spun like a top. It did a complete 360. John landed hard, flat on his front side, face first in the grass. In typical John Elway style, he had not only picked up the first down, but had gotten the ball into the red zone, inside the ten yard line. It would be first and goal, but more importantly, in typical John Elway style, he would get up as if it were a slide. It was more than that, though. Much more.
John stood up and, with his unique smile, walked back to met the others for the huddle and the next play. There was no fumble. No coming up short on third down. No injury. Just an intense expression of how tough and competitive this great quarterback was and how badly he wanted to win this game.
"Don't tell me this thirty-seven year old quarterback doesn't want to win this game," Scott commented as the TV played the relay over again.
Many players, both Broncos and Packers, playing in the game or not, many people watching the game, including myself, knew, knew that we were going to win now. After seeing John make this remarkable play, we just knew it. The replays showed the pure determination in John’s eyes.
Often, when I think of this play, this spectacular moment in history, I can say, this is when I knew. This is when I knew for certain that I was going to be someone. I could see the top of that damn mountain. This time, no doubts would haunt me. I stood up, escorted the Demon out, and hit him in the ass with the door on his way out.
Two plays latter, the score would be tied again, 24 to 24. After some more Prayers and some good defense, we had the ball back. John, Tyrell, and the rest of our guys would drive down inside the red zone again. Shortly after the Two Minute Warning, Tyrell Davis walked into the end zone untouched for the go ahead touch down. It appeared as if it would be another fantastic, come-from-behind-in-the-fourth-quarter win for us. This time, in the biggest game ever. There was, however, time left on the clock. And it ain't over tell it's over.
The Packers were a very good team. They weren't about to just go away. They had plenty of time to run down and score. Even though they would need a touchdown to tie it, they could still score. They had Brett Farve after all, no stranger to fourth quarter come backs. They could easily tie it up, send it to overtime, and win the game.
Two long plays after the kick-off, the Packers were inside the Broncos forty yard line. Man, this is happening way to fast. The "D" needs to get it together here. We need a stop here. We need a stop now. Still plenty of time for the Pack to score and win this game. Maybe in overtime they could...
"Damn it, how do you get back in here?"
This is just to tie the game, not win it. Even if they do score, we can get them in OT. How fitting it would be for us to have to fight to the absolute end. Besides, win or lose, we're not getting blown out this time. We covered the point spread. None of those millions of people who beat their money on the Packers can win now.
"Please, God, give the defense some confidence."
Suddenly, it was three incompletions latter and forth down. Time was extremely short now, thirty-two seconds left, but it could still happen. The Packers came to the line of scrimmage.
"Okay, Trevor, the Broncos stop 'em here, the games over." Somehow, I felt that he did not really comprehend fully the explications of my words or this play. The game wasn't just over, but won. Won by our Broncos. The team who had fought for over thirty years for respect. The team who always came up short. The team that always blew the Big Game. The team who had never made it to the top of the mountain. The team who had no hope in Hell to win this game. This wasn't just a game, but my life, my future. It wasn't just a win, but my trip to the top of that mountain.
Bret Farve began calling out the signals.
"Confidence, please, God, confidence, confidence..." Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Trevor looking at me, watching me closely, analyzing my ever move. Occasionally through out our short nine years together, I had noticed him watching me when he thought I wasn't looking. Then, I realized that I was saying this Prayer aloud. How long I had been saying my Prayers of confidence for the Broncos aloud is uncertain. How many other times he had looked over at me when he thought I wasn't looking during this game were many.
Did he know what I was saying? Did he know what I was doing? Did he understand? At that moment, I didn't care. If this was a way for him to learn more about God, then great. Was it appropriate? I guess all I can do is wait and find out. I'll tell you what, though, his Grandma would be damn proud to know he was learning about God and the Broncos in this manner.
In what seemed an eternity and yet, mere seconds, the pass came from No. 4. Hours, yet, an instant latter, John Mobly stepped in front of Mark Chamura (the same tight end who had scored the touch down just before half time). The camera angle again made it difficult to see for sure, put the ball appeared to hit the ground before being caught. Then, the TV announcer said incomplete and the camera angle switched. John Mobly was running across the field, arms extended in celebration.
I jumped from the couch, across the coffee table, and began yelling and jumping up and down. Yelling as loud as I could, not caring about my neighbors next to me or below me. Not only did I not care if they were hearing, but I wanted them and the whole World to know I was yelling. I jumped and jumped and jumped, covering nearly ever inch of that apartments living room and kitchen. Jumping, jumping, yelling, screaming. In that moment, there was no pain, no fears, no coming up short, just an overwhelming feeling of great, pure joy. The top of the mountain. I caught a brief glimpse of Trevor giving about twenty Mile High Salutes to the TV.
I stopped and told Trevor to grab his things so we could go. I wanted to get to Cheyenne and jump up and down with the person whom had taught me how to love: my mother. I looked over to the TV as Trevor went into his room to get his overnight, Blue and Orange Bronco bag. The game was not only over, but there was a podium and the Super Bowl trophy and John Elway without his helmet and... Somehow, I had jumped and yelled my way through the rest of the game, through several commercials, and on into the award ceremony.
Oh, well, I taped it. I'll just catch the kneel down latter.
As we drove to Cheyenne, I listened to the post-game show on the radio, just like we always do. The tears flowed like the flooded mountain creeks during spring melt off. They did it! They finally did it! My team!!! My Broncos!!! Oh, Thank You, God!!!
Every time I think of this day, the tears flow. When I think about how Glorious and Wonderful this day is, I can never contain the tears. Even as I am writing this now, some four years latter, my tears are flowing down my check like Crow Creek in May.
We went straight to Grandma's. She had red swollen eyes and a wrinkled up tissue clinched tightly in her hand. We all hugged and whooped and hollered and told stories of intense pleasure and pain. What a fantastic game! What a wonderful victory! Thank God for John Elway, Bless his heart! (That’s my mom: always thinking how others feel)
Three hours after that deflected pass, when I left my parent's to take my son home, the TV was still on, showing the victory celebrations.
Thank you, God!
That next day, I watched the game again to catch what I had missed. As the tears of immense joy soaked my face and the collar of my lucky No. 7 Elway jersey, a million thoughts of how I was going to finally be someone paraded through my head. I was at the top of the mountain. That next Tuesday, I skipped classes to watch the Victory Parade on TV. Tears of intense joy flowed down my checks as I heard Queen sing, "We Are the Champions," while John held up the Vince Lombardy Trophy for the Denver faithful to see. Never before had that song meant so much to me. Never before had it gave me chills as it does every time I hear it now. Tears flowed down my check as I saw the estimated 600,000 in attendance for the parade. What a Glorious Gift God had not only bestowed to John Elway, or me, but the millions of Bronco Faithful.
Yes, this is the Top of the Mountain. And it is Glorious!
So, when I'm feeling down. When I'm facing a Test, a little or a lot of adversity, I think about how God came through for me. Then, I have the courage and strength to make it through. The hard stuff just isn't as hard. That even though I may not see the top of the mountain sometimes, I know, with the Grace of God, and my Super Bowl Champions shirt, that I will make it.
VI
Through out all of the lean years before Super Bowl XXXII, I held my head high, wore my Orange shirts and jackets with pride. Through all of those huge blow outs in the Big Game, I with-stood ridicule. The next day after those huge disappointments, I was sporting my Orange. All of the times when I would have to listen to others joke at the Bronco's expense. All of those times when I would hear the Bronco haters laugh at me. All of those people, most of them not knowing anything about football, telling how bad we are and how much we sucked. All of the misquoted information. All of the exaggerated or fabricated facts and statistics meant to demean us. Mostly, I would just ignore them not wanting to dispute their ignorance. Through all of the arrogance and ignorance, I wore our Orange with pride.
For three weeks straight after XXXII, I wore my lucky Elway jersey, everyday. Several of my classmates (and a few instructors) would make all kinds of comments. Some negative or sarcastic, some were even down right angry at me. Despite the nay-sayers and haters, I wore it as a promise to myself. Boy, did it sure feel good to be giving the Mile High Salute on the trips between classes to passers by who were proudly sporting their Broncos clothing!
A few short months after the Big Victory, I was standing in line at the check stand in the grocery store. I had on my new logo Bronco jacket that I had gotten for my birthday in September, well before the Super Bowl Victory. It's a very nice, solid dark blue, light jacket with a small horses head log on the front and the words "Broncos" in orange on the back. The people behind me, reeking of alcohol and abusing the proper usage of the English language to the point of near incoherence, were having a loud conversation that seemed directed toward me.
"The Donkeys," one of them belched. The usual term used to describe the Broncos by the haters.
After the game, I had communicated viva e-mail with a friend of mine who had relocated to San Francisco. He had remained a Bronco fan. He expressed a concern about the non-believers saying the win was a fluke. A part of me agreed with him. Another part of me felt before the win that things would be better if they ever won a championship. They would have respect, then. That would shut some of them up, but then, I knew it would never happen. There would be those who would hate, regardless. If the Raiders or the Dallas Cowboys win hundreds of Super Bowls a piece, I'll never like them, but I would respect their achievements. Any educated football fan would, but there will always be those haters, ignorant of football or not, who would never respect the Broncos.
"They just let the Donkeys win 'cause they feel sorry for Smellway," another barked.
A part of me was surprised, but then again, no. John Elway had been the sentimental favorite, but all of the expert opinions had forecasted a blowout by the Packers. Somehow, these guys had translated cheering for the underdog (cheering for the underdog is a trait that I can say I am proud to have learned from my mom and that I teach to my son) into a conspiracy, by whoever "they" are, and throwing the game in favor of John for sympathetic reasons. Reason would allow me to keep my mouth shut, smile, make my purchase, and walk with my chest and head held high out of the store. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, I just assumed that these guys were not serious. The smell of alcohol also told me that no matter what I said, they might have just wanted trouble.
As I walked to the car, those feelings of wonder about respect came up, but I just dropped it. My heart and my mind just went to that happy place: me jumping up and down in complete and absolute joy. I'm sorry Trevor. I hope you can understand, but your birth and that moment are the two greatest single moments in my life. I love you, Buddy.
VII
There were times that I had witnessed an NFL, or other major professional sports, team just stroll through the season wining and wining and then repeating a championship victory. They would just waltz through with ease as if they were just going through the motions. Just as if it was a forgone conclusion. Unfortunately, most of those teams were not my favorites. By the mid point of the season, I would be sick of hearing about them. By the time Super Bowl Sunday rolled around, I'd be so damn sick of them I'd threaten not watching the game. Of course, I always did and I've not missed a single Big Game since Super Bowl XII in January of 1978.
So, the following season after XXXII, God gave me another Gift. God allowed me to see how it feels to be on the other side of that feeling.
The Broncos would breeze through the 1998 season. There would be a 2,000 yard plus rusher (one of only five ever), a 14 and 2 record (the best ever for a Broncos team), a record tying 63 yard field goal, multiple high scoring spankings of good teams, numerous team offensive records, a 50,000 plus yardage career passer, and a quick romp through the playoffs. There was tons and tons of national media coverage. Multitudes of positive accolades by all media types, most known for their strong distaste for the Broncos. Some long time fans of the Blue and Orange would even comment on how they were actually sick of hearing about them. (How does that happen?) I soaked up every wonderful moment.
When Super Bowl XXXIII got here, much quicker than previous years, my life had been coming together. I was one semester away from my Bachelors degree. I had a wonderful job that was related to my degree and career aspirations. I was in a very positive relationship. Things were going great or me. Yes, it seemed as though I would not be settling for second place any more.
The pregame show was just icing on the cake. Yes, folks, I had my cake and ate it too. Seeing Kiss in full make-up performing "Rock and Roll All Night" was just the ultimate for me. Wow, Kiss, possibly the most favorite band of mine ever.
"Oh, Boy, " my father moaned as we watched. This time, I insisted that we make a big deal out of the game. Complete with nachos, hot wings, and a chocolate Broncos' cake. Being with my family this time was just the right thing to do. He turned and began speaking to my girl friend ( not a sports fan, but wearing a white No. 30 Broncos jersey).
"Tim used to have his bedroom walls filled with posters of these guys."
"Damn straight!" I added as I enjoyed the show.
"This is the best Super Bowl show ever."
Well, as per the usual, there was little drama during the game. It would be over early. John would put on his usual fantastic performance. The Broncos would spank the Atlanta Falcons. I was really disappointed that the Vikings, being my second favorite team, had not been here, having lost the NFC Championship game to the Falcons. We were all happy that a team who had never been to the Big Dance was playing, though.
After the game, I was driving back to Laramie, thinking. "So, this is how it feels. This is what it means to quiet the doubters. To put to rest any questions of fluke or not. This is what it feels like to be the team that repeats." Most importantly, it gave me the feeling that not only would I succeed, not only would I reach the top of that mountain, not only would I win, but I would win big. Success would be much greater than I had expected. The top of that mountain would be a very tall place to be.
I hope that you all can at least grasp a small glimmer of what this means to me. If your a fan, true believer, hater, or somewhere in-between, it makes no difference: they won back-to-back Championships and that can never be taken away. The Denver Broncos winning the Super Bowl was huge for me. It's not just football for me, or my Mom. It's not just a game. It's a way of life. It is life!
And then, came Ray.
