Peyton Manning Would Be a Horrible GPS System

In my 18 years of formal education, I’ve had to do a lot of projects. Some have been in groups, while others have forced me to go out on my own. There have been a few that have required some creativity, while others a built-up penchant for boredom-inducing research. And of all the projects I’ve ever done in the name of academia, only one can be the Best. Project. Ever.

And it was the one that made me a fan of the Super Bowl Champion Indianapolis Colts.

In 5th grade, my teacher was named Mrs. Hammer. Doesn’t exactly give you the feeling that she’s going to be all about smiley-face stickers and candy for right answers, right? After all she shares the name with a tool design to create blunt-force trauma. She was a good teacher, and her legacy is only heightened considering I had her as a teacher during the heyday of M.C. Hammer.

In the first month of 5th grade, we as a class were informed that we would be participating in a new half-year-long project known as Pigskin Geography. Looking around on the internets, it appears that this was not a unique idea of the Hammer. The premise was simple. Every student is assigned a team. The student is to follow the season of their team. The student will learn about the city the team plays its home games. The student will learn about calculating statistics, as well as distances between games. You also had to keep a scrapbook, meaning you had to figure out how to read the newspaper (preferably taking your scissors to it AFTER mom and dad had finished.) Oh, and you were encouraged to watch football.

Team selection was the first, and perhaps, most important part of the entire project. First off, no one could have the Eagles – that was in effect, “cheating.” (Plus it probably eliminated initial arguments – that’s how the Hammer rolls.) So our names were picked out of a hat, and we picked what was left on the board (at the time 28 teams) I feel like I picked like 5th.

Now keep in mind, I’m an extremely weird kid when it came to school. In third grade we got to write a report about any United States President (other than Reagan, who was in office) we wanted. 3rd graders don’t have opinions about who the favorite President is. Therefore, they pick the one they’ve heard of. 10 kids probably did JFK. Another 10 probably did Lincoln. Washington, Jefferson, and Roosevelt – I’m sure they had a few.

Chris Condon chose William McKinley.

So when it came to my turn to pick a football team, one should expect the unexpected. The only team I ever liked was the Eagles, and they were off the board. Nowadays, I could probably give you a 1-32 list, from Philly to Dallas. But back then? It was Philly, and then everybody else.

Now this selection happened during the pre-season of the 1990 NFL season. The weekend prior, the Eagles had had a game against the blue and white of the Indianapolis Colts, and lost 17-16. My opinion of the Colts, then, was that if they were good enough to beat the Eagles, then they must be a good team. Looking back, here are something’s that shed light on a faulty rationale.

1. When I was 10, I had no idea that pre-season games are meaningless.
2. The Eagles coming off Year 4 of the Buddy Ryan Experiment, an experiment that failed to produce a play-off win.
3. The Colts were about to start a rookie QB named Jeff George, who may have been a previous incarnation of Rex Grossman.

I got an A in Pigskin Geography. Really, I totally rocked it. My calculations of running yards per game and points allowed were flawless, my newspaper scrapbook was topical and insightful, and I know lots of things about the Hoosier State that, well, haven’t been that helpful in my professional career.

The 1990 Colts? They went 7-9.

But from the one magi-, no, mediocre season, I became a Colts fan. I was 10.

Now I’m 27. But other than the hometown influence of the Eagles, the Colts have always been my Number 2 Team. I stuck with them, and before I could even spell “allegiance.” The very next year? They lost 15 out of 16 games. And I still wore a blue horseshoe cap proudly. I mean, that requires a lot of dedication out of a kid.

I’m not exactly a William McKinley backer these days.