It was a half hour after the final gun had sounded on Super Bowl 50 and the mood in the Carolina Panthers’ locker room was predictably subdued, a muted procession of beaten men with thousand-yard stares wandering about a carpet littered with the detritus of combat: shreds of tape, crusty gloves, stray pads. The Panthers, who had danced and rollicked and celebrated so loudly throughout a charmed one-loss season, had finally been silenced.
The quarterback eventually emerged sporting only red shower slippers and the silver football pants he’d worn on the field, now filthy with grass stains recalling the beatdown he’d just endured. For over three hours Cam Newton had been harried, hit and harassed by Denver’s ravenous defense, from the opening series until Carolina’s final meaningful drive when he was chased down by DeMarcus Ware and thrown to the turf for the Broncos’ seventh sack of the night, which matched a Super Bowl record. He overthrew open receivers and rarely looked comfortable for more than a few plays at a time, completing just 18 of 41 passes for 265 yards with an interception and two lost fumbles. The Broncos’ front seven had saved their greatest trick for last: they managed to make Superman look like Clark Kent.
It was a dreadful slog of a game, in no way worthy of the interminable fortnight of self-congratulatory pomp that preceded it, but it was a pace the Broncos, who entered as five-point underdogs, were built for and accustomed to. A simple game plan – load the box, play one-on-one coverage on the outside and dare Newton to throw – left Carolina’s vaunted offense looking like a Lamborghini straining for fourth gear on a gravel road. Newton hadn’t absorbed more than six hits in a game all year; the Broncos tagged him 13 times, nearly quadruple the quarterback’s season average. “His body language,” said Denver cornerback Chris Harris Jr when pressed for a telltale. “We were too aggressive, man. He was tired of getting hit.”
Newton, a loser for only the third time in Carolina’s last 25 games, tugged a black hooded sweatshirt over his head and gingerly walked to the press room. He appeared in shock, like he’d never even contemplated the possibility of defeat. He lasted only three minutes before the waiting throng, his increasingly curt responses barely rising above a whisper, before abruptly leaving the podium and decamping to his locker. “They just played better than us,” he’d said. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Within minutes the footage was disseminated on social media and it’s been knives out since – and surely will be until September.
Theoretically, the criticism of Newton is fair game. He was named the NFL’s Most Valuable Player on Saturday and has become the face of a multibillion-dollar business. With that mantle and the handsome compensation it entails come uncommon standards of professional conduct. He was immature on Sunday night, all but spoonfeeding the critics who have called him the world’s best winner – and world’s worst loser.
But we should remember those standards were installed by a predominately white media corps that historically has demanded black players – black quarterbacks most of all – act a certain way. And that many critics dislike Newton for reasons that go way beyond football. Had he turned up to the podium flashing his megawatt smile, he’d have been ripped for not being upset enough. He turns up grumpy after coming up short in the biggest game of his life and now he’s a bad sport.
Not even within pro football’s tightly knit fraternity can Newton find refuge from the paternalistic, thinly veiled racism underpinning his stardom. “You will never last in the NFL with that attitude,” tweeted Bill Romanowski, a four-time Super Bowl champion who played 18 seasons. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, boy!”
Newton wasn’t the first black quarterback to play in a Super Bowl but it’s sure felt that way.
San Francisco’s Colin Kaepernick was adopted by a white family and wasn’t the star of the 49ers when he came off the bench to spirit them to a place in Super Bowl XLVII. He’d only made 10 NFL starts. It wasn’t about him as much as it was about Jim Harbaugh. Seattle’s Russell Wilson, who was married to a white woman, wasn’t the star of the Seahawks when they won the title one year later. Neither intimidates white America and have thus been accepted, not unlike Tiger Woods or Derek Jeter or OJ Simpson years ago.
Marshawn Lynch’s media-averse behavior drew criticism but was roundly dismissed as eccentric rather than hostile because he stuck to an acceptable role: running back.
Newton is different. He doesn’t wear Brooks Brothers suits. He has a million-dollar smile. He’s 6ft 5in, 240lbs and handsome, the undisputed alpha dog, the straw that stirs the drink. He’s confident but polite at the same time. White folks can’t figure him out. They can’t control him they way the Eagles did Donovan McNabb. And people fear what they don’t understand.
So why must he play by these absurd rules? Newton has won everywhere he’s been and has a team that responds to him. When drafted four years ago Carolina had just gone 2-14 – 2-14! – and he was judged unsparingly from day one despite being thrown into the fire with no offseason preparation due to the lockout. That Newton gave in to his feelings on Sunday and didn’t conform to preconceived notions is the very self-expression and passion that countless pundits have associated with the Panthers’ stunning rise.
After retreating to the showers until the Carolina locker room was cleared of press, Newton finally made the long walk through the bowels of Levi’s Stadium carrying his playbook, two bottles of Gatorade and a bowl of baked salmon, the medical bracelet he’s worn since his life-threatening car accident 14 months ago peeking out from the sleeve of his black camouflage suit jacket. Event staff snapped photos and shouted words of encouragement: “You still look good!” and “We still love you!” and “Dab for us!” Moments after he was last to board the black luxury charter, Carolina’s five-bus convoy disappeared into the Santa Clara night.
It’s unlikely Newton knew exactly how his post-game manner had inflamed his critics and just how much it will inform his next few months. Fortunately, it’s even less likely that he’d care.