Mile High Sports
For a split second, I was right there with Jaycee Horn.
Pouring salt in the wound? Kicking a man while his down? Not cool, bro, not cool.
In case you missed it, the Panthers cornerback had some choice words for Broncos head coach Sean Payton following Denver’s 28-14 win, a game that was more of a rout than the score indicated. Horn – rightfully – didn’t like that the Broncos were trying to run up the score. It’s hard to argue with Horn’s assertion considering that the Broncos ran a fake field goal, a trick play and were throwing the ball like they were down 20, all while game was well in hand.
Regardless of Payton’s intent – to embarrass an old NFC South rival, to get his young quarterback as many confidence-building reps as possible, to reward Courtland Sutton for being patient with the young team around him, or simply to work on a few things against the closest thing to a JV squad the NFL an offer – it looked bush league. It was bush league.
Personally, I’ve never really liked that kind of thing. Unless the hate is real and the blood is so bad it’s boiling (think Mike Shanahan versus Al Davis’ Raiders), I generally believe there’s no place for embarrassing an opponent. I know, I know; if they don’t like it, they can stop it.
You know what I am okay with though?
That Sean Payton doesn’t give a damn about what I, Jaycee Horn or anyone else thinks.
Not that it matters, but I don’t even like the man himself. Can’t say that I really know him; he just comes across a little smug for my liking. But after the longest stretch of futility in Broncos history, perhaps that just what the doctor ordered in Denver. Whether you like Payton or not, he’s got a swagger that hasn’t been seen in Denver since Paintin’ Peyton Manning and the No Fly Zone.
The lovable Manning yelled at the ThunderVision operator once. Aqib Talib would rip off a wide receiver’s gold chain if the mood struck him just right. That’s not exactly the stuff parents want their kids doing in Pop Warner, but everyone in the NFL knew the Broncos meant business. Regardless of their outward personality, guys like that were competitive on levels that mere mortals can’t understand. Those guys were bad, bad men.
Payton is a bad man, too. He might be “bad” – as in naughty, mischievous or pompous – but he’s also a bad, bad man, the kind Muhammad Ali used to bark about.
Remember when Vic Fangio whined when the Ravens extended their record streak of consecutive 100-rushing-yard games against his defense? The coach was more upset about his own defensive reputation than his team getting pummeled 23-7 at home. That wasn’t a bad man; that was just plain bad.
“I coached his father. So I was yelling back at him,” Payton offered when asked about his contentious postgame conversation with...
