David MartinI’ll be the first to admit that I’m possibly jumping the gun here.
But on the chance that one of Tennessee’s favorite (adopted) sons is actually kicking around the “I might want run for office” can, I have only one thing to say: Please, Peyton, don’t do it.
The six folks that regularly read my column (hi, Mom!) are likely aware that though I have Hamilton County roots, I was born and raised some 90 minutes northward on I-75. And up that way, the Holy Trinity is as follows: Dolly Parton, Pat Head Summitt and Peyton Manning. Sure, other civic saints exist there – Gen. Neyland and James Agee among them – but the Dolly, Pat and Peyton triumvirate is revered above all others.
Shoot, you needn’t bother mentioning their last names for people to know who you’re referencing.
What’s fascinating about Peyton, though, is that many Tennesseans – not just the Upper East Tennessee variety – consider him family. I’m not talking second cousin status either. I mean nuclear family, brother and son. Just think, there are literally thousands of Peytons in our family trees today. Between 1995 (the year after he became UT’s starting quarterback) and 2016, more than 2,400 Tennessee babies have been named, presumably, after Peyton.