Numbers pretty, but Manning still stuck with Miss Congeniality

There is good news and bad news when it comes to Indianapolis quarterback Peyton Manning, aka Stat Boy.

The good news. The pain for Colts fans has probably subsided by now. It has been many months since Stat Boy cooked in the juices that are the expectations generated by his uber-celeb, pitch-man, face-on-the-TV-every-millisecond visibility.

Manning's stats rise in the season, but his game drops in the playoffs. (Getty Images)

You remember that day, don't you? When the Pittsburgh Steelers marched into Indianapolis, twisted Manning in plastic wrap, and punked him in his own palace, leaving him pouting like a Lhasa apso that had just been neutered.

The bad news. Another NFL season is here, meaning another Stat Boy playoff swoon is likely imminent. Once again, his throwing numbers will be puffed up and glorious. He is, after all, a machine, a walking Gameboy, king of the regular season, destroying odorous clubs like Houston and Tennessee. He deflowers the weak and blows apart hapless defensive backs who have yet to schedule their Lasik surgery.

Then the playoffs come, and Stat Boy becomes the incredible shrinking quarterback. In big game after big game, his jockstrap tightened as the competition became more intense, whether it was at the University of Tennessee, or in the postseason last year against the Steelers, a game he had no business losing.

In those moments, when he is supposed to shine, when he is supposed to be Stat-a-licious, Manning rolls up into a big, hunking ball of mediocrity, becoming kin with the ordinary.

That's why this season might be one of the biggest in the star's career thus far. Another one of those patented Manning playoff drubbings will lead to almost universal criticism of his game and more out-loud wondering in a gossipy league about the makeup of Manning's heart muscle.

Please do not misunderstand. Manning is good. Manning is great. He will take a grenade to the record books. Construction of the Stat Boy Wing in the Hall of Fame is already under way. Yet we still, all these years later, do not know what Manning is yet. Is he a winner or is he Stat Boy?

The problem for Manning is that he shares the same airspace with another luxury liner in New England's Tom Brady, and there could not be two more different people.

Manning bear-hugs stats as a broken passing record brings a smile to his face. Brady, skinny, personable, kinda quiet, still a little goofy, quotable, has that powerful intangible Manning lacks -- Brady knows how to win.

There is a reason Brady, despite playing with 5-foot-4 receivers and running backs with hitches in their giddy up, has won Super Bowls while Manning has captured passing titles. Manning has played most of his career with a Hall of Fame wideout, a perennial Pro Bowl running back, a decent offensive line and, recently, a swift defense. Still, zippo in the big game department.

Behind Brady's handsome looks is a cutthroat guy who would steal his grand momma's purse if it meant he could win a Super Bowl. Brady has ridden the wave of Bill Belichick's brain power while willing his team to multiple championships.

Brady stood in front of his locker Thursday and was asked what drives him. He gave a smart answer, but when I asked him to explain further, Brady gave an answer that might define why he is who he is and why he is so different from Manning.