EAST RUTHERFORD, N.J. — If you’re a Denver Broncos fan and you have any kids with a passing interest in sports, you were presented with the Super Bowl of parenting opportunities Sunday night.

Here’s to hoping you found a way to quiet the clamor of defeat and spend a few moments with your son or daughter watching the final five minutes of the Denver Broncos’ 43-8 loss to the Seattle Seahawks as the seconds painfully — nay, mercifully — ticked away.

You didn’t have to say anything. No. 18’s actions spoke louder than words.

With 5 minutes and 19 seconds left and his team down five touchdowns, Peyton Manning still hustled his troops to the line. He didn’t hold anything back, hurling one last deep ball down the middle of the field in the direction of Demaryius Thomas only to watch it flutter to the turf yet again.

He still hung in the pocket, subjecting his surgically-repaired neck to more punishment in the form of a sack so violent that it jarred the ball from his hands with just under three minutes to play.

And with two minutes left, the Broncos asked Manning to take the field one last time. Given the responsibility and privilege of calling his team’s plays at the line all year, Manning could have easily kneeled, he could have handed the ball to someone else and let them run out the clock. No one would have blamed him.

Instead, he slung one more pass, giving rookie C.J. Anderson a catch on the NFL’s biggest stage and extending his new record for Super Bowl completions to 34.

To the untrained eye, it had to seem like an embarrassing curtain call for a guy who spent the regular season setting records that actually meant something — every single regular season passing record in the NFL history books, to be exact.

And that’s the thing about kids: They all have untrained eyes. As parents, it’s our job to train them. Manning made that job easy Sunday night.

Maybe deep down, Manning believes the sentiments that former NBA star Charles Barkley made famous in 1993 — that athletes shouldn’t be seen as role models. Maybe he thinks Seahawks cornerback Richard Sherman was on to something when he asked his detractors, “How dare you judge me for what I do on the field without knowing me off of it?”

The truth is Manning doesn’t owe you or me anything more than to go out and play football for a few Sundays every year.

And that’s the thing about Manning: You don’t have to know anything else about him — not that his Peyback Foundation has raised over $6.5 million for youth organizations in Indiana, Tennessee, Louisiana and Colorado, not that he responds personally when fans send him wedding invites, not that his teammates and even his opponents “love him to death,” not that one veteran columnist called him “the most likeable athlete I’ve ever covered” and not the great lengths he goes to in order to keep his wife and kids out of the spotlight.

All you have to know about him is how he played the last five minutes of Super Bowl XLVIII.

For parents, those five minutes provided a chance to turn to your kids and say, “As you grow up, you’re going to face a lot more moments like the one Peyton Manning is going through right now than the one the Seahawks are enjoying.”

It’s one of those hard lessons we all have to learn, whether we’re athletes or accountants, doctors or dishwashers: Our legacies are defined by how we respond in those dark moments; not by how we revel in the fleeting moments of victory.

So go ahead and ask Manning if his legacy was tarnished Sunday night, if he’ll always be haunted by the fact that he’s won just one Super Bowl in 16 NFL seasons.

But if you’ve been watching those 16 seasons, if you’ve seen any one of his 12 playoff losses or if you just took the time to watch the final five minutes of this season — which may or may not be his last — you already know the answer.

Here’s to hoping every kid in Colorado does too.