In Defence of Cam Newton
The lasers have been firing at Cam Newton from every direction since the conclusion of Super Bowl 50 on Sunday.
In reality, their aim has been transfixed on his person for some time; well before he walked out of an excruciating press conference, and well before he appeared to opt out of diving on a loose ball. The entirety of his outstanding season, rewarded with a League MVP on Saturday night, has possessed a small undercurrent of unsettlement from some.
Whether it was his dancing, his post-game outfits, or his non-traditional play, there’s been a misguided feeling of not meeting the old boys network’s expectations. A stripped-down sentiment of, “He’s good, but why is he doing it with a personality?”.
You can be cocky and be successful. Within that, though, is the inevitably of rubbing people the wrong way. You become, as they say, polarizing — people like to be offended.
It’s why the detractors have been waiting for Sunday night’s alleged meltdown, and why it’s important to look at this from the other side of the fence.
His exit from the post-game podium has generated the most ‘buzz’ since the game’s end. After suffering a Super Bowl loss, a game in which the Panthers were shut down and embarrassed on the biggest stage, Newton, like every other player, is expected to fulfil media duties. After receiving a host of mundane, go-nowhere questions, it appears he overhears Denver cornerback Chris Harris explaining how the defense shut down the Panthers’ passing game. He walks off — “I’m done, man”, were his words.
The media, despite their protestations via Twitter seconds later, have their story through his walk-off. Yet, it’s still unacceptable, unprofessional, and all the above. The arguments range from “You can’t do that, you can’t just walk off” to “Journalists have a job to do”.
To an extent, I understand and can get behind those arguments…to an extent.
I begin to have a hard time when I put myself in the player’s shoes. Newton was obviously upset and frustrated; the Super Bowl is every player’s dream, their goal from when they begin playing. Imagine your own dream, whatever it is, being snuffed out when you’re so close, and then minutes later having to answer this for the world:
Do we sometimes forget that defenses can still take apart the offenses in this game?
Can you put into words the disappointment you feel right now?
They’re not great questions, but they’re questions that other players and coaches on the Panthers were answering. Therein lies the problem, though. Why is the expectation that players, at the height of disappointment in the biggest moment of their professional lives, should be graciously willing to have the “There’s always next year…they outplayed us” setlist of clichés at the ready? In that state of dejection, a journalist can add little by way of quotes to his story. Leave players to mourn the defeat. If they want to talk about it, they will find an outlet.
Newton’s smart enough to know that walking off causes a storm. He just didn’t care, and he shouldn’t. Peyton Manning left the field without shaking the hands of Saints players after the Colts’ loss in 2009. That didn’t create anywhere near the same amount of hubbub. There were no scorching arrows from across the river towards Manning. Then again, he doesn’t dance and own a disingenuous smile like Cam, right?
After the walk-off, and in conjunction with the media wetting themselves in a weird, simultaneous mix of disgust and happiness, Deion Sanders and Marshall Faulk debated the issue on NFL GameDay Final. It was unscripted and honest. Faulk talked about a similar incident after his Rams’ loss in 2001, saying he regretted his own media behaviour instantly, and that Cam would, too.
Sanders, meanwhile, took the high road, criticising the quarterback for his human reaction. The same Sanders, by the way, that dumped buckets of ice water on a journalist for criticising him back in his playing days.
The takeaway from it: even some of the 0.1% that has been on that side of the fence doesn’t empathise with Newton, so it’s not surprising that the rest of society fires off their hot take regarding professionalism and how you simply CANNOT do that.
Some of those players may share a locker room with Newton; the ones who sat there and held it together whilst being asked to describe their pain. Good for them, if that’s how they handle that scenario. It makes the circle spin for journalists and fans (if they’re indeed interested in one-word answers), if nothing else.
The lesson from the walk-off and its toxic fallout from onlookers? Let players be humans and save the character assassinations for real life. This is entertainment — just a sport.
Newton is brash, it went poorly when the lights were brightest, and he’s different to Tom Brady, Peyton Manning and Drew Brees within the media, but it doesn’t mean he’s wrong for being different and having a human reaction.
I’m not advocating an entire negation of player availability, of course — I understand how slippery that slope is — but let’s alter our expectations of people.
