Keeler: Aaron Rodgers would be wearing Broncos orange currently-- if Pat Bowlen were actually still listed below.

Interesting piece by Sean Keeler from The Denver Post talking about some important happenings for the week. Sean Keeler recently posted the article and I decided it was well worth syndicating here.

What are the odds Aaron Rodgers and his man bun would’ve been rocking an orange jersey a month ago, if only Mr. B were here? Whatever it took. Whomever it took. Stop messing around. Do it. No. 1 In Everything starts — and ends — with being No. 1 in the AFC West.

You could imagine general manager George Paton arguing for the sanctity of draft picks. And you can almost picture Pat Bowlen nodding at this, quietly. Then sitting up in his chair, leaning over and asking Mr. Paton how many Lombardi Trophies the Minnesota Vikings have won over the past four decades from hoarding all those precious draft picks.

The chaos at Dove Valley the past five years, the rot, the complacency, the lack of direction, urgency and accountability, always started at the summit. Always. The culture, for better or worse, formed like snows at elevation and trickled down.

The Broncos need a front-line quarterback. Not a project. Not a hope. Not a promise. A star. At some point, you have to realize the folly of bringing a plastic fork to the West’s gunfights, year after year.

You know what else they’ve been missing?

Another Mr. B. Or Mrs. B.

One mission. One mantra. One voice. One desk where the buck always stops.

No more trusts. No more interim tags. No more temporary emperors clinging to power, money and relevance while a fan base starves. No more putting egos and greed ahead of Patrick Mahomes.

So, yeah, a toast this Independence Day Weekend. To the biggest elephant in the Broncos’ room, finally inching toward a blessed exit.

With the Bowlen family trial stayed and vacated from its scheduled July 12 date in Arapahoe County Court, it’s starting to smell like a settlement is coming, and amen.

Ride with The Post’s Ryan O’Halloran on this one: If the heirs couldn’t rally behind a single chosen one — Jeff Bridich and Nolan Arenado will team up on “The Amazing Race” first — then they’re going to put this city, and this franchise, out of its collective misery and sell this bad boy.

And before you shed a tear for #TeamBrittany, take a gander at the estimates. The Carolina Panthers went for $2.75 billion in 2018. Forbes.com pegs the Broncos’ value at $3.2 billion, and even that feels low. Pro Football Talk speculated last week that the additional returns from sports betting, especially locally, could triple the asking price — think $8-10 billion — on the open market.

So let’s see. Air our family’s dirty laundry in the courts during a knock-down, drag-out fight for stewardship? Or sell and figure out a way to split $10 billion among the clan?

If only all our Fourth of July barbecues could be Bowlen Fourth of July barbecues.

Come on down, Phil Anschutz.

Save us, Jeff Bezos.

Who needs a rocket ship when you can ride Thunder on Thursday nights in perpetuity?

The Broncos have become the NFL’s version of the Beach Boys: An oldies act riding an endless tour on past laurels, playing to a loyal following, with band members you’ve never heard of and wouldn’t pay to watch if they weren’t on this stage, wearing these colors, representing the brand.

Every season, they come around again, blasting out the same songs, even if those songs haven’t been hits for years. There’s comfort there, sure. But nothing contemporary. Nothing compelling.

In a coach/quarterback league, the Broncos have spent the past five years lowballing on the former and whiffing on the latter. They keep swimming stubbornly against the NFL current, doubling down on defense in a circuit that’s getting more offensive by the year.

Since March 2016, this town has gone through nine quarterbacks, five offensive coordinators and three head coaches.

Nothing sticks. Except the misery.

When your ownership is a dysfunctional family? When your front office settles?

That’s how you become the Bengals, not the Broncos.

Not Mr. B’s Broncos, anyway.

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The AFC West is threatening to become what the AFC East turned into over the previous 18 years, when The Tom Brady and Bill Belichick Show consumed a generation. One team and one quarterback — Kansas City and Mahomes, in this case — nailed down at the crest, every year, with the rest of the pack left tearing at scraps.

You’ve got to fire a shot the Chiefs won’t point and snicker at. Which is the standard response when they have a Mahomes, and you don’t.

Look, if everything goes right — we’re talking everything, especially on the injury front — you might win 10 games during the regular season with Drew Lock or Teddy Bridgewater behind center. You also won’t get past the first weekend of the playoffs.

The Vikings Way works. To a point.

The Rodgers Way is better.

Would the NFL have forced the Broncos to play a home game on national television last fall without an active quarterback if Mr. B were still here? We all know the answer to that one.

One mission. One mantra. One voice. No. 1 In Everything is just a slogan, tough talk and empty calories, until somebody at the top backs it up.