It was 1971, and a 32 yard field goal cemented the Baltimore Colts' victory over the Dallas Cowboys, a 16-13 victory that would be the team's final NFL championship in the city of Balimore. 36 years and a move halfway across the country later, and a player with a familiar surname took the trophy, the MVP, and his family's honor home with him to Indianapolis, an unassuming heartland city known more for its famous racetrack than its American football.

Of course, we all know the outcome, whether we wanted to know or not, but the story is compelling. It is the story of a quarterback who came into the city of Miami with a rather large monkey on his back. A quarterback who had brought his team back to respectability, but who carried with him the knock of not being able to deliver the big one. Having knocked the gorilla of Tom Brady off his back two scant weeks before and the spectre of the team's former home (who had brought the trophy home to the city prior to Indy's return) just three weeks and one day prior, Peyton had only to face the vaunted and storied defense of Chicago, a city just three hours up the road.

And Peyton delivered in a way that will undoubtedly become the stuff of legends. Though a shaky early start left the outcome in doubt, it wasn't long before Peyton and the rest of the team rose to the occasion and brought the trophy home to the city of Indianapolis, where they finally enjoy the most hallowed prize: the right to be called champions.

Incidentally, 8 months before the Baltimore victory over Dallas, a young child was born about an hour north of Indianapolis. A child that left the state at the age of 18 months in body, but never completely left in spirit. A child that called many places home before becoming an adult, and has called many places home since. Tonight, that child, now a man, watched the Colts dispatch Chicago and is proud to call Indiana his homestate.

Well done, Peyton. I'll have a brew for you. Thank you for making me, and all native Hoosiers proud.