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Marriage is about compromise.

Even on days like today. Well, truth be told, especially on days like today.

I was about 9 years old in 1985 when the Bears were shuffling their way to the Super Bowl. As a young impressionable, fad-driven youth, loving Da Bears was cool.

Jim McMahon’s neck/sweatband.

The Super Bowl Shuffle complete with music video.

And especially William “The Refrigerator” Perry’s short touchdown run.

Those times in my life stick out. And even though all those guys are gone, those Monsters of the Midway still tug at my heartstrings.

But back to this marriage thing.

Today, the Bears are dead to me.

Today (Gosh, this really, really pains me to write this) I am a Peyton Manning fan — by marriage.

Consider him my hero-in-law.

Indulge me while I give you the details — it might take a minute.

The Redhead was born on May 19, 19 … I know better than to reveal a woman’s age.

Then, on The Redhead’s third birthday, two more little redheads, her twin brother and sister, were born.

And all were born to a very, very big Ole Miss fan, Mother Redhead. And why is May 19 significant? It’s the birthday of Ole Miss savior Archie Manning.

“That took some major planning,” Mother Redhead once joked.

It’s all taking shape now, isn’t it?

So give me the blue-and-white shaker. Bring on the cavalcade of Manning-mericals. Saddle me up, folks, I’m riding with the Colts.

Attending family gathering for around a half a decade now — one of which falls closely to the Ole Miss vs. State Egg Bowl — I quickly gathered that for a little slice of Choccolocco, Alabama vs. Auburn wasn’t the biggest deal in town.

And I quickly found out that, in Mississippi, Archie Manning is Bear Bryant with a tight spiral.

Don’t disparage Archie. Or Peyton. Or even Eli (while he might deserve it).

I made that mistake.

Once.

Eli was on TV, the conversation was about fantasy football, and I said something to the effect of how I was so glad I didn’t draft that guy and then said something about him not being very good.

You’d have thought I had just told her the mashed potatoes were lumpy and needed more salt.

It was like the ghost of former Ole Miss coach John Howard Vaught had taken over her soul and I got the icy stare of Rebel death.

So, needless to say, I’ve learned my lesson.

Never again will you hear a bad word about the Manning clan.

Not about Peyton’s big forehead.

Not about Eli’s inability to win the big game.

Or about how Archie should have left Eli alone and he’d be with a pretty good Chargers team now.

Nope. You won’t hear anything like that out of me.

Peyton will get nothing but praise from me.

I’ll paint my bald head blue, leave $18 this morning in the collection plate.

I’m insane for Indy. Besides, nobody ever said compromise was easy.