I’m Sorry, Bo Nix

Dear Bo Nix,

This past holiday season, my aunt’s boyfriend (whom, I should point out, we haven’t really warmed to yet) reminded me of an article I wrote before the 2024 NFL Draft. In it, I presented a thoroughly researched, astutely reasoned prediction about who would be the Denver Broncos’ starting quarterback this year.

I’m sure you remember the piece, Bo, but, just in case the knocks of a 17-game regular season have taken their toll on your memory, my conclusion was: not you.

To be fair to this author, I said some very nice things about you. After careful consideration with some of the more discerning scouts in our digital department, it was determined that a charming boy-next-door vibe combined with impossibly attractive angles and “thighs that put Hercules to shame” made you a premium piece of eye candy. We stand by that assessment.

However, I ultimately determined that the Broncos would not—and should not—draft you. You see, I graduated from Texas A&M. I don’t tell you this because I want you to feel sorry for me (we paid a coach $77 million to go away, Bo!). Rather, I want you to understand that I mostly saw you play collegiately at Auburn, where, I mean, come on. Some Saturdays, it looked like they had plucked the boy from the house next door and plopped him down under center.

Then, miraculously, I hear that you’re playing like an All-American at Oregon. I say “hear” and not “saw” because games in the Pac-12 started really late, and, Bo, I have kids who think 5 a.m. is a perfectly reasonable time to start screaming about Paw Patrol. So, all I knew is that against the best teams in the country, you struggled. When injected into a quarterback-friendly scheme in the hinterlands of the Pacific Northwest, you shined.

I was sure the NFL would sweep you into the system-quarterback dustbin in no time, just as it had done with Tim Tebow, Andre Ware, and every Texas Tech quarterback from the 2000s. (Kliff Kingsbury was pretty once, too, Bo.) Bolstering that concern: Your thighs may be made of thunder, but your arm was reputed to lack the lightning it takes to bolt the ball downfield. In short, I saw a clipboard in your future.

Absolution demands honesty, so I’m not going to lie to you, Bo: I felt a twinge of schadenfreude-ian delight following your performance (136 passing yards, two picks, no touchdowns, one loss) in the opening game of the season, against the Seahawks. If X wasn’t a wasteland of aunts’ boyfriends nowadays, I would have re-promoted my original story, adding a smug little dunk—“Told ya ;)”—above the link.

I’m glad I didn’t.

The Broncos are going to the playoffs for the first time since 2015, and the defense deserves much of the credit. Last year, the unit ranked 27th in points allowed per game. This year, Denver is third.

I’m thrilled for that side of the ball—and, yes, I owe them an apology, too—but I don’t think any of Vance Joseph’s men would begrudge me saying that you, Bo, carried us into the playoffs. The stats alone are crazy: Twice named AFC Offensive Player of the Week, the second-most touchdown passes by a rookie in NFL history, the most touchdown passes thrown by a Bronco not named Peyton Manning. You even caught a touchdown. It’s dizzying, bro!

But you know what the best part of the season was? You! Maybe it’s the Alabama in you, but your general vibe, I hope you don’t mind me saying, is kinda Opie (a hot one, mind you). Yet there you were, in early October, just tearing into Sean Payton on the sideline, taking his barbs and slinging them right back. Geez, that felt good—like we were you, vicariously tearing into every demanding, self-satisfied boss who’s ever questioned the accuracy of our TPS reports. Earlier in the year, when a reporter asked you a reporter-y question about throwing an interception in the red zone, you replied, “Uh, yeah. [I] dropped back, threw it to the other team.” The chutzpah!

Of course, chutzpah alone is just arrogance. Which is why it was so refreshing when you addressed the spat with Payton (while wearing an Elway jersey, by the way) by saying, “He turned to me and said, ‘I love you,’ and I turned to him and said, ‘I love you back.’ ” I mean, anyone who dons matching Christmas PJs must be a solid dude, right? My heart, like the Grinch’s, grew three times the day I saw that photo.

Therefore, without further ado, I would like to apologize, Bo. During the most hopeful time of the year (the offseason), I succumbed to cynicism. In the process, I robbed myself of the chance to take pleasure of one of the most unexpectedly delightful seasons in Broncos history.

I won’t do it again. This weekend, you and the Broncos are heavy underdogs against the Buffalo Bills in the first round of the NFL Playoffs. Vegas is against you. Josh Allen, the Bills golden-armed quarterback, is against you. The weather will undoubtedly be against you.

Me? I’m behind you, bro.

Your friend,

Spencer