Is this it for Peyton Manning?
It is the Super Bowl, after all. Super Bowl 50, the Golden Game that is bigger than Roman numerals and signifed just by the round 5-0, seems big enough for the greatest statistical quarterback ever to spin the laces.
So after his worst season as a quarterback since, you know, ever, and with his body on the verge of betrayal after every game, retirement after Sunday night's Super festivities could be the end.
It's time, right? It feels like it, right?
The stage, the swagger, the spotlight, all of it is the fitting sunset for the man they call The Sheriff.
It's a nickname borne out of respect and amazement. It connotes the ability to keep calm amid the pre-snap confusion and to direct traffic amid the traffic jam.
Manning's Sheriff moniker is more homage to Andy Taylor than to Wyatt Earp. He's the guy who controls the chaos without a gun - either actually on his hip or metaphorically hanging from his shoulder - by willing others to places of which they were not completely aware.
He's "the man" in every sense of the way golf fans shout it after monster tee shots, and he has long been the face of the league. Argue all you want that Tom Brady is more accomplished and Aaron Rodgers is better, and that's a fine discussion, but it does not change Manning's place or presence as the most respected and beloved figure in America's most beloved pop culture endeavor.
So we go back to the question: Is this the last gunfight for America's Sheriff?
Like almost every issue before him in his Hall of Fame NFL career, Manning has handled that question with preparation and precision. He is not making this week about him, and, as to be expected, he is saying all the right things, handling every microphone as if it was a blitzing linebacker and every answer with the ease of his familiar "Omaha, Omaha" audibles.
But timing in stepping away is the great unknown, and that's especially true with our sports icons.
We love that they are still there, taking snaps or swings or shots, and occasionally reminding us why they were elite. But we are collectively fearful they may linger too long. For as great as the storyline of Manning the Sheriff firing the game-winner Sunday night in his final game is, the storyline of Johnny Unitas in Chargers powder blue or Babe Ruth in a Braves uniform is just as moving in the opposite direction.
Because Peyton has given all of us so much - be it the joy of watching him, the amazement of watching him come back from the neck injuries or the pure disbelief of knowing he's always prepared (the ultimate gridiron boy scout with more than a dash of MacGyver) - we are worried about his legacy. It's the least we can do for the trade-off.
Heck, even Manning bashers - arguably the smallest club in sports among non-New England backers and casual fans - have to admit that the greatness of the Patriots' run has been enhanced by Manning's presence across the field. That Brady and Bill Belichick have sustained their dominance for 15 years going against Manning is the perfect foil to that chase for perfection.
Manning's exit could not be scripted in a more meaningful moment, and that he has not announced anything comes as no surprise. He has never been one, no matter his individual excellence, to supersede or circumvent the ultimate goal in the ultimate team sport.
He would never do anything that shortchanges the overall mission, especially when that mission is winning a Super Bowl. And rest assured, he knows success in that mission adds another line to his resume in the discussions of legacy and lists.
So is this it for Peyton? We think yes. And we hope yes.
And in truth - no matter whom you are cheering for - having Peyton Manning go out on top of the world would be something to behold.
As Barney Fife might say, "Right, Sheriff?"
Contact Jay Greeson at jgreeson@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6343. Follow him on Twitter @jgreesontfp.