On Peyton Manning's Forehead

Listen, I know professional athletes are creatures of habit, perhaps none more so than Peyton Manning. So if the Sheriff's found a particular make and model of helmet that works for him, more power to him. But it's been so many years since I've started noticing this huge bruise in the middle of his forehead when he pulls the hat off that I'm starting to become legitimately concerned.

I've left a too-tight fitted cap on for a whole night and wound up with that nice red ring around my skull, but it's never gotten as purple and bruised as Manning's forehead in the midst of every single game. I barely recognized Manning on the sidelines during the Broncos' Week 16 game as he nursed his myriad injuries because he didn't have that black and blue mark shaped like a Yoshi's Story boss in the center of his noggin.

Manning is known as a slave to routine, so obviously he prefers headgear that bursts as many blood cells as possible. But why? Does the helmet inject hours of game prep directly into his cerebellum as the game progresses? He has a mythical devotion to tape study, but he's also swamped with advertisements and dismissing HGH claims; maybe he's too busy to spend 45 hours a week in the film room.

Speaking of HGH, Manning has vehemently denied the Al Jazeera story suggesting he used it to help him heal from his troublesome neck injury back in 2012. But he never said anything about anabolic steroids, which has a tendency to cause a user's head to balloon to the size of a beach ball. Maybe Manning's been on the cream and the clear for the better part of the last two decades and we simply didn't know.

Maybe the mark is like the talking scorpion in Orphan Black that tells the ruthless assassin Helena what to do. Or maybe the helmet pushes the blood circulation in his head through specific parts that tells him when to audible to an HB Circle X Sluggo, or when to move his linemen to protect against an A-gap blitz, or to remind him to never throw the ball to Vernon Davis, or to never let Brock Osweiler back into the game again.

Maybe the mark looks exactly like the layout of Omaha. Does anyone know what Omaha looks like? Is Omaha even a real city, or is it just a figment of our imagination, a city we hear about in storybooks and songs?

I'm worried about you, Peyton. Don't kill all those valuable brain cells because you're worried about losing your helmet on a huge sack - the rules very clearly state you personally are not allowed to get hit, anyway.

(Also, congrats on winning and stuff)