Mike Vaccaro

Mike Vaccaro

NFL

Who’s clutch now? Peyton makes plays Broncos need

DENVER — The air may be thin here, but it is thick as stew when it comes to the local football team, when it comes to the harsh end of a season. And so for 52 weeks, there has been lament everywhere, lining the streets, filling the taps of the city’s bars, climbing the surrounding mountain ranges.

When a team and a town gets its heart stomped, the big things probably linger most, so for 52 weeks there has been an endless loop playing in the minds and memories of Broncos fans. They remember the impossible 70-yard touchdown toss from Joe Flacco to Jacoby Jones that tied the divisional playoff at Sports Authority Field at Mile High.

They wince at the brutal interception Peyton Manning threw late in the first overtime, a wobbler intended for Brandon Stokley that was picked off by Corey Graham, setting up the 47-yard dagger disguised as a field goal Justin Tucker kicked on the fourth play of double-OT, cinching as devastating a loss as the Broncos ever endured.

But what really tortured the locals was this: first-and-10, up a touchdown, 2:22 to play, the Ravens out of timeouts, Denver needing only one first down to close Baltimore out. And this was the three plays the Broncos designed, with maybe the greatest quarterback of all time playing on their side:

Run up the gut. Run up the gut. Run up the gut. Not one pass play called, which might have ended it. The Ravens got the ball back with 69 seconds left. And with one cock of Flacco’s arm …

“That game last year forced us to address those types of situations all season long,” Manning said Sunday. “We worked it in training camp, we worked it in the season. So you’re having to kind of play that game in practice.”

So of course, 52 weeks later, here the Broncos were, with a chance to run the clock out on the Chargers, trying to stave off another murderous miracle at Mile High. The Chargers were down 24-7 but now it was 24-17, there were 3 minutes and 53 seconds to go, and they needed a stop.

The Broncos needed a first down. Just like last year.

And before any one of the 76,969 at Mile High could take a deep breath — as if any of them could anyway — it was third down. A false start sent them backward. So did a botched run. So it wasn’t just third down, it was third-and-17, and if you weren’t aware the Broncos were in a bit of trouble their hyperventilating fans gave you enough of a hint.

“The best way to convert those situations,” Manning said, “is don’t get in them.”

But here they were anyway. No safe runs now, with 3:06 left, with the Chargers still breathing, with the 76,969 surrounding him barely doing the same. Manning’s greatest gift might be his calm in these moments: He might not always make the play, but it won’t be because the moment overwhelms him.

And these 52 weeks of waiting? Manning saw that differently, too. See, he’s a fan as well as a star player. Saturday night, addressing his team, he reminded them they weren’t the only team to lose horrific games last year. Atlanta did, in the NFC title game. Washington did, in the wild-card round.

And those teams never recovered.

This team did.

“It’s hard to get back here,” Manning told his mates. “You need to be commended for getting back to this point.”

So here they were, one play, one third-and-17, and now Manning was in the pocket, and he had to hope the protection could sustain an extra beat or two because, “you have to hold the ball a bit longer to give those guys a chance to get down the field.”

But at the snap, his eyes had given his heart peace.

“Perfect call, perfect coverage,” he said. “You maybe get one or two of those a game.”

And when he saw that, he knew he’d also see tight end Julius Thomas open. All he had to do then was get him the ball.

He got him the ball. Mile High went delirious. The Chargers sagged. No miracle this time. Just a 15th encounter brewing between Manning and Tom Brady here next Sunday, and a simmering report he may be nearing retirement depending on how his neck checks out, and …

“What’s weighing on my mind right now,” he said, “is how soon I can get a Bud Light in my mouth.”

Fifty-two weeks later, he’d earned that much.