March 2012

Among the many big news stories that blew up last week, the Peyton Manning to Denver and Tim Tebow to the New York Jets trades had the biggest boom, at least in these parts. Before you go thinking, Why would Tim Tebow play in such a godless town?, there are churches almost everywhere you go in Manhattan. I can see three from my twenty-first floor window at Guideposts right now.

St. Patrick, the missionary patron saint of Ireland, always reminds me of my days at St. Denis, the Catholic grammar school I attended in Philadelphia.

Like the block I lived on, the school was heavily Irish and Italian, the roll call full of names like O’Malley, Zerelli, Thompson, Nordone, O’Hara and, of course, Grinnan—since there were four of us Grinnans growing up on Hillcrest Avenue in Havertown.  

You have to admit, the guy has class. Tons of class in addition to that gun of a right arm, that Canton, Ohio, Hall-of-Fame right arm. I’m talking about the great ex-Colt Peyton Manning, who inspired me this week with how he handled himself exiting Indy. He could have pouted or glowered or screamed. He could have tweeted a bunch of nasty stuff. Instead he said, “I’ve been very blessed.”