The new football messiah in town sprinted toward his orange-clad congregation and began to preach. Never fear, because Russell Wilson is here to lead Broncos Country from six long years of darkness and despair.
“What’s happening? Y’all ready?” Wilson shouted Saturday, to the delight of 7,121 spectators gathered for training camp, with the fans’ unbridled enthusiasm covering a big, grassy berm at the team’s practice facility in a blanket of orange.
Working the crowd like a minister standing at a bully pulpit, Wilson bellowed into a wireless microphone: “It means so much to us just to be able to celebrate practices and show you guys how hard we’re working to go win the Super Bowl. That’s the plan, to go win the Super Bowl.”
The congregation shouted a heartfelt amen right back at Wilson, responding to his challenge to loudly chant the words the 33-year-old quarterback has adopted as his mantra since relocating to Denver in a blockbuster trade with Seattle: “Broncos Country … Let’s ride!”
Then Wilson jogged off to practice, his every stride filled with big, bouncy hope, as light as a balloon dancing in the summer breeze.
Championship dreams? “You guys finally got the piece you’ve been missing,” Super Bowl 50 champion Derek Wolfe testified Friday at the conclusion of practice when he gathered current players, pointed to Wilson and added: “Follow his lead. He knows how to do it.”
The Broncos are living the Gospel of Russ.
Denver mayor Michael Hancock, country music legend Kenny Chesney, Peyton Manning and a record-breaking crowd showed up to hear Wilson preach during the team’s fourth day of training camp.
This revival is going to need a bigger tent.
Although this is the largest groundswell of excitement the NFL has generated around these parts since Manning retired, Wilson reminds me more of another quarterback that made Broncos Country go gaga:
Tim Tebow.
OK, let me explain.
Wilson can spin a spiral, including a 60-yard touchdown pass he threw Saturday to rookie Montrell Washington, in a way that’s far beyond any physical gift that Tebow possessed.
But during the height of Tebowmania in 2011, I recall walking up to the locker of cornerback Champ Bailey. I asked if he could explain how a quarterback with limited passing skills could lead improbable victory after improbable victory.
“I have no idea,” Bailey told me. “But I’ll have some of whatever magic potion he’s drinking.”
With pride that Tebow could certainly appreciate. Wilson wears religion proudly on his sleeve. Before dawn Saturday, the new football savior of this dusty old cowtown took to social media and tweeted in all caps: “FOREVER I WILL SING OF YOUR GLORY JESUS!”
Unlike Manning, a perfectionist who softened his obsession with the details through snark and self-deprecating humor, Wilson apparently was put on this earth without a sarcasm font installed in his vocabulary.
On “Saturday Night Live” in 2007, PFM told a kid that repeatedly dropped passes for his youth team: “I can’t even look at you. Go sit in the Port-o-Let for 20 minutes.” What makes the skit a classic is the kernels of truth in the demanding personality that Manning was unafraid to reveal.
Wilson is a far different breed of cat than Manning. In public, Wilson is always on brand and seldom spontaneous. His tone is rarely conversational. Instead, Wilson seems far more comfortable reading homilies from the Book of Russ.
Very earnestly, Wilson is apt to say: “If somebody says you’ve got to do X amount, I triple it.”
Preaching to spectators on the hill at training camp, Wilson says: “To be here playing for you guys, playing for the Denver Broncos. What a gift. I would say playing the game, playing the quarterback position, is the greatest gift in the world.”
Whenever Wilson speaks, if I close my eyes, I can almost hear the voice of Tebow say: “Love ice cream. I let myself have that about once a week. Vanilla.”
Cynics, beware. Wilson comes off as orchestrated, rehearsed and more than a little bit corny. Yes, it bugs me sometimes.
But given a chance, Wilson can be sweet vanilla ice cream comfort for the soul.
It’s a hard line to walk the every-day-is-a-gift talk. Wilson does so without flinching.
After practice, he set what I believe might be the unofficial single-day record at Broncos training camp for signing autographs, including a football he gave to a young fan named Noah who held a hand-drawn poster that grabbed the quarterback’s eye: “Mr. Wilson. It’s my 7th B-day. Sign my jersey please.”
Wilson is the most evangelical bearer of good tidings to wear a Broncos uniform since Tebow, not to mention a far superior quarterback.
Now, if Wilson can perform a minor football miracle and end that 13-game losing streak against the Kansas City Chiefs, he might also convert more lost souls in Broncos Country than Tebowmania ever did.
