Ex-teammate: RoboPeyton can be beaten, but you'll have to go 15 rounds

KANSAS CITY, Mo. -- Tell us, Jeff, please, for the love of Lamar. What the hell do we do?

Because other than suiting up Priest Holmes and Trent Green again, nothing seems to work. Nothing. Nada. Zip, dude.

Play soft, Peyton Manning dinks you to death, one pin prick at a time. Play tight, he floats daggers in over the top.

Drop eight, Manning eventually finds the most exploitable gap. Send eight, his eyes light up like the Plaza in December.

Counter with a veteran, Manning toasts his weak spot. Counter with a rookie, he burns a hole in the kid's psyche.

The book has been out for months now, and it says No. 18 can be depantsed the way Seattle did it in the Super Bowl. What the book doesn't say is that the Seahawks have the best defense on the planet and a secondary that could cover every drop of the Adriatic Sea.

The Chiefs have Jaye Howard up front, Ron Parker at the back, and Lord-Only-Knows in between.

"I don't think there's necessarily a code," offers Jeff Linkenbach, the Chiefs guard who played two seasons with Manning in Indianapolis (2010-11), the tail end of Peyton's Colts phase.

"It's just playing fundamental football and just shutting down what he wants to do, and just go and (taking) one play at a time and try to win that individual play."

Demaryius Thomas. Emmanuel Sanders. Julius Thomas. Go win that play, champ.

"You know, he's bound to get you a couple times," Linkenbach says with a shrug. "It's just a heavyweight fight-type deal. Just have to battle through."

A couple? Peyton Manning hasn't just vexed the Chiefs. "Vexed" implies that you had a chance. No. He's owned them.

No. 18 has played the Chiefs 12 times in a storied career, including the postseason, and won 11 of the matchups. In fact, Manning's KC-killing winning percentage (.917) is the single-highest against any NFL opponent he's faced on at least nine occasions. The next closest in terms of sustained dominance is Houston (17-3, .850).

To put it another way: Manning versus the Chiefs: 11-1. John Elway: 18-12.

The one time the Chiefs beat RoboPeyton as a pro -- Oct. 31, 2004, at Arrowhead, 45-35, after a massive halftime lead -- Manning threw for five touchdowns anyway.

Linkenbach assures us that No. 18 is human. He bleeds. He cries. He bruises. He wilts. He fails.

Just not here.

"I mean, he's just a different guy," Linkenbach says.

"I'm sure (someone) more along the lines of (former Indianapolis center) Jeff Saturday would be a lot better to get a story from than me."

Flip through our photo album of NFL cheerleaders.

Some roads intersect, only to veer off again; four seasons ago, Linkenbach was settling in with the Colts, while Manning was on his way out. The best stories, the best anecdotes, were either the stuff of legend or passed down secondhand to the rookies. This is a man who screams at linemen then, a few years later, treats them to golf at Augusta National. A cat who rehabs his ankle in a cold tub during a Wednesday while also watching game film on an iPad, while also wearing a helmet -- just so he could listen to the offensive coordinator's calls during the practice outside.

"Some of them are true," Linkenbach says. He smiles slyly. "Some of them may or may not be."

Fair enough.

"But as far as opponents," Linkenbach continues, "he's just like a machine, like you said."

A 230-pound, cornerback-killing machine. In two contests against the Chiefs last year, the All-Pro completed 46 of 75 pass attempts for 726 yards, six scores and two picks. In four head-to-head meetings since his Rocky Mountain Revival, it's 91 for 141 (64.5 percent) passing for 11 scores and two picks.

Heavyweight fight. Just have to battle through.

The first nine games of the Andy Reid Era in Kansas City: 9-0. The last nine: 2-7. A makeshift offensive line that won't have its best tackle until the end of the month. A defense that's without its literal and figurative heart in linebacker Derrick Johnson, out for the year with a ruptured Achilles tendon.

A football town in football shock: Last Sunday's 26-10 defeat to Tennessee was a punch to the civic kidneys, the most collectively depressing home opener since 2011 -- the last time the Chiefs had been coming off a playoff berth, the last time they were trying to build upon a winter of promise.

And here comes Peyton. No mercy. No pity. No soul.

OK, well, maybe a little soul.

"I mean, he always just moves forward," Linkenbach says. "He does get a little animated on the sidelines -- more so with his teammates and the officials. But, I mean, he shows emotion that way."

Hey, maybe we're looking at this thing all wrong. Playing Manning at his place, right now, while the team is all depleted and limping and wagon-circling, might be the perfect time for The Andy Gang.

Win: Holy expletive, season saved.

Lose: One week closer to college basketball.

"There's no sympathy at all in this league," Linkenbach says. He smiles warily. "Especially with 18 out there."

You can follow Sean Keeler on Twitter at @SeanKeeler or email him at seanmkeeler@gmail.com.