“When you make love to your lady, who dabs first, who dabs last?”
The question from an utter stranger came from the back of the scrum of nearly two hundred press members that had gathered around Cam Newton during Super Bowl media day.
Unsurprisingly, the star quarterback of the Carolina Panthers and imminent face of the NFL, donning a branded Super Bowl 50 towel as a bandana, remained as composed during this and every other moment of Monday’s soul-crushingly insipid crucible as he’s been in the pocket throughout a presumptive MVP season, one that’s brought his club to within one win of their first ever championship.
“Next question,” he said, allaying any tension with a momentary flash of that megawatt smile.
Every station of the cross during the fortnight build-up to America’s high holy holiday is appropriately outsized and overblown, but none more so than Monday’s industrial-grade press conference from hell. It’s an agoraphobic’s nightmare: where both teams’ 53-man rosters are turned loose on an arena floor one hour at a time to the gnashing throngs of thirsty media and media types numbering in the thousands, local newspaper beat veterans jockeying for real estate with passers-through from Nickelodeon and Entertainment Tonight, an ocean of boom mics and selfie sticks. Those players in highest demand are perched in lofted booths, forced to field such pressing queries as “What’s your favorite Star Wars character?” and, my favorite, to Carolina center Ryan Kalil, “Is this a must-win game?”
(Um.)
This year the NFL moved the proceedings back a few hours to accommodate a prime-time broadcast and rebranded it Super Bowl Opening Night (fueled by Gatorade!): part meet-and-greet, part flesh parade, part living, breathing commercial. A convoy of nine charter busses flanked by a California Highway Patrol escort of a dozen officers transported the press from the media center in San Francisco’s downtown district along Highway 101 to the SAP Center, the 17,496-seat home of the NHL’s San Jose Sharks. Inside, a cover band called Pop Rocks played on a platform overlooking the arena floor before a sold-out crowd of about 7,000 fans, who had paid $27.50 apiece to guzzle $10 beers and watch ink-stained wretches, TV personalities and Bright Young Things lob questions to mostly unidentifiable players well out of earshot.
Among the accredited media were retired adult film star turned fantasy football guru Lisa Ann, longtime Denver Broncos superfan Rocky the Leprechaun and confirmed Miss Universe Pia Alonzo Wurtzbach, enlisted on this night by syndicated TV newsmagazine Inside Edition as a correspondent. The Austrian sports reporter Phillip Hajszan arrived costumed as a downhill skier complete with GoPro camera affixed to his helmet, while a duo representing Mexican broadcaster Azteca Deportes conducted entire interviews with hand puppets. Requests for autographs and selfies with players, normally verboten, were routine. Frost/Nixon this was not.
No player, not even Denver quarterback Peyton Manning, drew a larger crowd than Newton, who last week sparked a national discussion on race when asked to posit what’s made him such a polarizing figure and having the nerve to answer correctly. Through the entire agonizing hour, the 26-year-old showed a professional courtesy present company only occasionally deserved, pirouetting around questions on Donald Trump and weathering rap battle challenges long enough to deliver the odd revealing insight.
- On the increased media presence: "The frenzy is probably bigger than I expected, but yet it's the Super Bowl. It's the most impactful game of all of sports."
- On critics of his on-field celebrations: "I don't know, but I guess you'll have to get used to it, because I don't plan on changing."
- On his ability to remain composed in big moments: "My father always taught me the proper P's of success: proper preparation prevents poor performances."
Yet even Newton couldn’t help himself as the end drew near when another faceless voice called out: “How much fun are you having?”
“Right now?” he said, once more betraying a grin. “Not a lot.”
The game was six days away.
(Guardian service)
