Broncos need star LB more than ever
Diamonds in that Super Bowl 50 ring shine forever. But the big games those Broncos won on the way to a championship and the laughter linebacker Von Miller shared with teammates? They were fleeting, all the more precious because football glory is fragile.
Miller is the last hero standing in the rubble of a rebuilding project. With the exception of kicker Brandon McManus, his football brothers from Super Bowl 50 are all gone, moved on or pushed away from the Denver locker room.
“It’s crazy,” Miller said Monday, taking time to reflect after being named to the league’s all-decade team.
In the NFL, like life, a decade is a blink of the eye.
He’s the last Von standing, the final player remaining among the 22 offensive and defensive starters from the unforgettable team that beat Carolina on Feb. 7, 2016. Miller’s the only one left wearing orange and blue.
I asked Miller to wrap his head around how quickly everything changes in the Not For Long.
“When I look at it and see
I’m the last one here,” Miller replied, “I just look at it like: ‘Man, I’m old as hell.’”
He laughed. Life in pro football is no more than a blink. It’s crazy.
A week ago, Miller celebrated his 31st birthday. Every year, every tick on his NFL clock grows louder. And maybe more alarming was the recent departure in free agency of longtime teammates Chris Harris and Derek Wolfe. They were three amigos who grew up in this league together as Broncos. Nothing lasts forever.
“What gives me peace with losing those guys was there wasn’t one moment when I didn’t let those guys know I loved them and I enjoyed being on the same football team,” Miller said. “Every year was special. I got eight of them with Wolfe and nine with Chris. I haven’t really unpacked it.”
Don’t know about you, but for me one of the more challenging aspects of being stuck at home during the time of COVID-19: It sometimes feels like a lonely battle.
Miller is luckier than most, but even an NFL star riding out the storm in a big, fancy house can only preoccupy himself by scratching vinyl like a wannabe DJ or working up a sweat in his home gym for so many hours at a time. At the end of the day, back in the corner of a massive closet with more shoes than a department store, there’s that unpacked box, stuffed with sad farewells and the uncertainty of what’s next.
“As soon as I start feeling sad about it, I look forward to the team we have right now,” Miller said. “I look forward to the new relationships I’ll be able to build.”
He bristles at any suggestion Super Bowl 50, when Miller ripped Superman’s cape off Cam Newton, was the peak of his football powers. The peak suggests it’s all downhill from here, which is the last thing Miller chooses to believe.
“I really feel like some of my best ball is coming up,” he said. “Winning defensive player of the year and leading the league in sacks is attainable with the team I have and the type of people I have around me. It’s more attainable than ever. I have to take advantage of this opportunity that I have. I have to go get it.”
This franchise has a proud tradition that stretches beyond the horizon, but a recent history of tears and unrest since winning that championship barely more than four years ago. Mr. B is dead, and his grown children squabble over power and money. John Elway grinds harder, hoping to regain his golden touch.
These days these Broncos need Miller to be the Vonster, maybe more than ever. He not only remains the most talented player in the Denver locker room, he is also the last big link to how a championship team needs to think.
“Take advantage of the time you have playing football, because it’s going to be over in a blink. That is true. I’ve realized that from Day One,” said Miller, entering his 10th NFL season. “I’m just trying to continue my blink and make my blink as great as possible.”
He’s the last Super Bowl hero standing, not only the last remnant of the glorious way the Broncos were, but still the best reason to believe this team can be great again.