Still listening, not writing much though.
What Troglodyte isn't a football fan? And, I happen to be a Broncos fan. Anyone following the recent events, can see a need for lament. (Not that I am vainly seeking hope in a football outcome).
I was thinking: How many people have as many career ups and downs as Mozart and Manning? Regardless of whether either received his just reward, both will go and have gone down in history as some of the greatest in their field. I thought it fitting to find a ditty that trebles the trials of Peyton Manning and the Broncos.
Piano Concerto No. 20.
The first movement begins at the end of the fourth quarter against the Ravens. The orchestra opens dark. The Broncos had chosen to kneel down with time remaining. A looming doom declares the Ravens now have the momentum just after the Broncos had given it up. Overtime starts, the battle begins. Manning throws an interception. Raven's kick in double overtime. Broncos lose.
Enter Piano solo.
A head-hung depression. The Ravens charge through the playoffs, crushing every other team. No other fought as hard as the Broncos. The Brocs sigh, saying, "We'll get them next year." The music builds more and more hopeful. Pulses of "We can do it," mixed with sighs. The season starts. Broncos storm through with fury. Game after game, all the while the critics shout, "of course' Peyton can do it in the regular season. But let's see what he does in the post season." He wins his first. A sigh of relief. He wins another. Their in. Their in the Super Bowl. The first movement ends at the precipice of the big game.
Second movement.
A hike for a Seattle safety. The Broncos sigh. "Let's calm down. Collect ourselves." They stop them from scoring a touchdown. 5-0. That's doable. They get the ball back, fail to score. They keep Seattle to just a field goal again. Sigh. "Ok. Come on. Take it easy. It's not out of control yet." Piano solo rattles dread, seasoned with a bit of hope. Slowly, things unravel. Piano strikes growing with intensity, chipping away any remaining hope. Second half, Seattle scores on first kick-off drive. Seattle: score after score and stop after stop. The music returns to the sighful laments. "This is not their year." It says. They still try, but critics and fans know it is over.
Third movement.
The music is celebratory, but with dark undertones. The celebration of the enemy. Critics joking about the defeat. The rival team celebrating. The music suggests a few pats on the back, saying maybe next year. At first, no one's ready to think about that.
Eventually, they slap their faces and a find the ever present optimists inside themselves…
Well... at least, that's what the tucked-deep-optimist in me is hoping they're doing.
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