Growing up, John Elway was my guy. He was my first true sports hero. As a teenager living in 49ers and Raiders country and in a world predating the NFL Ticket, I would drive an hour to my grandparents' house in the woods, which had satellite, to watch Broncos games every Sunday. It was a major part of my formative years. I swear a part of me died with every one of those Super Bowl losses.

When we finally won it all in 1997, I was euphoric. And I don't say that word lightly. I'm talking on top of the effing world. Elway's helicopter lunge for the first down on what proved to be the game-winning drive. The fist pump to the sideline. To this day, hardly a week passes that I don't watch that highlight. I felt, and feel, connected to Elway in every way that a fan can honestly claim conn

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