A 12-step program, Broncos-style

Dave Christie, Special to the News

Published September 8, 2006 at midnight

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Editor's note: These reader-penned columns were whittled down from 146 entries in our Last Columnist Typing contest. One columnist is eliminated per week — a la Survivor — until one is left at the NFL season's end. The winner will cover an event alongside the pros.

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Uh . . . hello, everybody. My name is Denver.

Hello, Denver.

I've been living without a quarterback hero for 6½ years now.

Good for you, Den . . .

Wait! Wait! I need help. I've been having these urges lately. For the last six years I've had occasional temptations. I actually watched the Pro Bowl when Griese got there and I grew a beard just like Jake last year for the playoffs, but I had it under control. It was tough, but I was able to beat it down with every interception and loss in the playoffs. I knew that wasn't the kind of future I wanted for myself.

But now . . . now with this new kid . . . it's different. Oh, I'm telling you it's much, much different, man. I mean, have you seen him? It's him! It's you-know-who all over again, baby, you can see it. He's scrambling, he's rolling out, and the arm. Great balls of fire, have seen the way this guy can throw a football? It's just like...

No! Don't say it!

I know, I know, but I can't help it. I want another Elway soooo bad. Just one. That's all. Just one and I'll move on, I swear. This Cutler guy, when I watch him, I see first and ten on our own two. 5:32 on the clock. The wind whipping off of Lake Erie. And when I close my eyes and I see helicopters, man, HELICOPTERS!!!

Denver, it's OK. Calm down and take a deep breath.

That's the thing. I can't. I hear Pat Bowlen's voice bouncing off of Invesco, "This one's . . . for Jay!" I can see the endorsements. The mustard. The milk. The barbecue sauce. Heck, I bet he'll be making ads for No. 7 himself. The two of them, side by side, throwing footballs 75 yards in the air into the bed of a moving 2002 Ford F-150 with low miles, a V-10 and the complete towing package.

Look, I know what I should be saying to myself. It's just a game. He's just a guy that throws a football. He's just a guy that throws a football . . . on the run with a perfect spiral 30 yards and lays it in beyond the defender's fingertips hitting the streaking wide receiver in stride and that's a DENVER TOUCHDOWN!

Have you talked with your sponsor?

Who? San Francisco? He doesn't understand. He just can't relate to my situation. He can put it all behind him 'cause it doesn't mean as much. They won after Montana. What do I have since he left — an AFC Championship game? That we lost? At home? Come on. It'll be different with this new guy. No tripping over the dog, no flipping off the fans, no grooming habits of an Iditarod musher.

Hey, the numbers speak for themselves. Have you seen his passer rating? 108.3! A four to one touchdown to interception ratio! Those stats are downright Elwayian, my friend!

Repeat after me, "It's just preseason."

I'm sorry, did you say something?

Dave roams the mean streets of Morrison with his wife and son. He says his job as a real estate broker offers him no street cred whatsoever.

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