Paxton Lynch joins a long list of quarterbacks who shredded college defenses, inspired franchises to place faith in their mighty arms and then were devoured by the most merciless job in professional sport.

No position in sport is more difficult than playing quarterback in the NFL.

I grew up a few miles from Mile High Stadium. If it hadn’t required crossing I-25, I could have taken a long walk to games. I’ve happily mingled with Bronco fans for decades. They are dear friends. And they are, literally, family.

So I’ll ask, as a proud resident of the Front Range, why do we heap so much scorn on Lynch?

On Aug. 19, Lynch trotted on the field at Mile High and was greeted by an avalanche of booing. At that moment, it was clear fans had rejected him. What a savage moment in Colorado sports history.

I get it. Lynch is a bust. He’s been knocked down, and it’s unlikely he’ll get back on his feet. He went, in a flash, from 26th pick of the 2016 draft to NFL exile when he was banished by the Broncos late Sunday morning.

But remember this: Lynch did not ask the Broncos to draft him in 2016. Lynch had no role in the Broncos trade that moved up the franchise in the draft to pick him. Lynch didn’t watch video of a 6-foot-7 (at least) quarterback tossing passes for Memphis and decide he was worthy of a first-round pick.

John Elway made all those decisions. If you need to boo someone, boo King John.

It didn’t take long to see Lynch was doomed. I was in Jacksonville in 2016 for Lynch’s finest hours in orange. He led, if you can call it that, the Broncos to a 20-10 win over the Jaguars, and, in a way, it was a sweet moment. Nearly 50 fans traveled from Lynch’s hometown of Deltona, Fla., to watch him.

He won, yes, but it was a troubling performance. Lynch repeated the same sequence, again and again. He threw, in an immense hurry, to receivers surrounded by Jaguars. He lacked nerve. He lacked vision. He seldom looked for a second option, and seldom resembled a first-round pick.

“Obviously, it wasn’t pretty,” Lynch said. “You can’t be in the game just tip-toeing around and not trying to make mistakes.”

He never stopped tip-toeing around. He never grew confident attacking NFL defenses. His is a tale of woe, for sure, but it’s hardly a fresh tale of woe. It’s the same misery tale lived by Matt Leinart, Tim Couch, Ryan Leaf, Joey Harrington, JaMarcus Russell and Brady Quinn. (And that’s the short list.) All college superstars. All NFL failures.

If you’re surprised by the Lynch disaster, let me ask:

Why?

Young quarterbacks usually are destined for disaster. They can’t conquer the freakish athletes who inhabit NFL defenses. They can’t out-think the brainiacs who work as NFL defensive coordinators. They fall off the NFL cliff. That’s the norm.

As Lynch departs Colorado, we’ll remember him most clearly for his tears. On Nov. 26, after suffering a high ankle sprain against the Raiders, he retreated to the bench and, in full view of TV cameras, started to weep. These were not popular tears. They only increased the rising scorn in Broncoland.

Lynch was blasted on Twitter and in living rooms and bars. Weeping, I heard over and over, should never be allowed to invade the precious and vicious realm of the NFL.

I saw a frightened kid who cared desperately.

And a kid who must have suspected, even then, his Bronco adventure was headed for a dark finale.

Paxton Lynch joins a long list of quarterbacks who shredded college defenses, inspired franchises to place faith in their mighty arms and then were devoured by the most merciless job in professional sport.

No position in sport is more difficult than playing quarterback in the NFL.

I grew up a few miles from Mile High Stadium. If it hadn’t required crossing I-25, I could have taken a long walk to games. I’ve happily mingled with Bronco fans for decades. They are dear friends. And they are, literally, family.

So I’ll ask, as a proud resident of the Front Range, why do we heap so much scorn on Lynch?

On Aug. 19, Lynch trotted on the field at Mile High and was greeted by an avalanche of booing. At that moment, it was clear fans had rejected him. What a savage moment in Colorado sports history.

I get it. Lynch is a bust. He’s been knocked down, and it’s unlikely he’ll get back on his feet. He went, in a flash, from 26th pick of the 2016 draft to NFL exile when he was banished by the Broncos late Sunday morning.

But remember this: Lynch did not ask the Broncos to draft him in 2016. Lynch had no role in the Broncos trade that moved up the franchise in the draft to pick him. Lynch didn’t watch video of a 6-foot-7 (at least) quarterback tossing passes for Memphis and decide he was worthy of a first-round pick.

John Elway made all those decisions. If you need to boo someone, boo King John.

It didn’t take long to see Lynch was doomed. I was in Jacksonville in 2016 for Lynch’s finest hours in orange. He led, if you can call it that, the Broncos to a 20-10 win over the Jaguars, and, in a way, it was a sweet moment. Nearly 50 fans traveled from Lynch’s hometown of Deltona, Fla., to watch him.

He won, yes, but it was a troubling performance. Lynch repeated the same sequence, again and again. He threw, in an immense hurry, to receivers surrounded by Jaguars. He lacked nerve. He lacked vision. He seldom looked for a second option, and seldom resembled a first-round pick.

“Obviously, it wasn’t pretty,” Lynch said. “You can’t be in the game just tip-toeing around and not trying to make mistakes.”

He never stopped tip-toeing around. He never grew confident attacking NFL defenses. His is a tale of woe, for sure, but it’s hardly a fresh tale of woe. It’s the same misery tale lived by Matt Leinart, Tim Couch, Ryan Leaf, Joey Harrington, JaMarcus Russell and Brady Quinn. (And that’s the short list.) All college superstars. All NFL failures.

If you’re surprised by the Lynch disaster, let me ask:

Why?

Young quarterbacks usually are destined for disaster. They can’t conquer the freakish athletes who inhabit NFL defenses. They can’t out-think the brainiacs who work as NFL defensive coordinators. They fall off the NFL cliff. That’s the norm.

As Lynch departs Colorado, we’ll remember him most clearly for his tears. On Nov. 26, after suffering a high ankle sprain against the Raiders, he retreated to the bench and, in full view of TV cameras, started to weep. These were not popular tears. They only increased the rising scorn in Broncoland.

Lynch was blasted on Twitter and in living rooms and bars. Weeping, I heard over and over, should never be allowed to invade the precious and vicious realm of the NFL.

I saw a frightened kid who cared desperately.

And a kid who must have suspected, even then, his Bronco adventure was headed for a dark finale.