![]() He lost the game and maybe something even more important: support from his fans. I’m not OK with losing and I want to distance myself from losing as quickly as possible.īut Newton had better understand something. My guess is that Newton wanted to convey this message through his monosyllabic grunts: I hate losing. It’s all carefully orchestrated, as I’m sure this postgame news conference was. The pregame kiss to mom, the dabbing, the constant, flashy smile, the commercials, the gold-patterned pants. He has become a master at crafting his image. He shed no light on this topic, either, and ended it with: “They scored more points than us.” In the only extensive answer he gave, Newton discussed whether there was anything unexpected he saw from the Broncos. Most of Newton’s answers were only a few words long. (Could it be he was trying to make up for not falling on his own fumble?) The word “coronation” was bandied about last week to describe what many thought would be Newton’s ascension to the sports throne following an MVP regular season. We’re always looking for a hero, for the next big thing to crown. It’s a bad look for Newton and also a dangerous one for our sports-obsessed culture that too often is willing to approve and justify even the worst behavior of its athletic deities.Īnd it’s sad. The problem with Newton is that he came off as one of the saddest and most common tropes in sports: the sore loser. I’ve also seen Louis Delmas throw a chair at reporters after a game. I’ve watched Calvin Johnson and Dominic Raiola talk about losing year after year. I’ve seen Detroit Lions quarterback Matthew Stafford handle the heat with steady decorum after the first benching of his life. I watched Phil Mickelson own up to blowing the 2006 U.S. I’ve witnessed a lot of athletes in their most vulnerable moments of defeat. Especially his last season in Detroit.īut most professional athletes understand that they have to face the music because they are, you know, professionals. If you’re Ndamukong Suh, you often take the cowardly way out and just ditch it entirely, leaving your teammates to answer for you. Likewise, handling the postgame losing presser is one of the trickiest parts of being an athlete. ![]() Handling the losing postgame “presser” is one of the trickiest parts of being a sports writer because it’s done in a very public forum, when players’ emotions are still raw. You look it over and then approach the family of the deceased and start to pepper them with questions about why the deceased didn’t take better care of himself. The medical examiner is there and hands you the autopsy report. If you’ve never attended one, let me give you a rough approximation of what it’s like. He bobbed and weaved and pursed his lips and shook his head and looked like anything but a winner, a leader or a role model.įirst, let’s get one thing straight about postgame news conferences with losing teams and athletes. Newton wore a hooded sweatshirt with his hoodie fully deployed over his head. Newton, he of the dabbing and the mom-kiss-blowing and of the Superman poses, gave one of the all-time worst postgame news conferences I’ve seen after the Denver Broncos beat the Panthers, 24-10, on Sunday. Carolina Panthers quarterback Cam Newton mumbled his way through a 2 1/2-minute news conference after losing Super Bowl 50, and for that, he deserves a new nickname. ![]() Watch Video: Cam Newton mostly silent after Super Bowl loss ![]()
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