Perhaps you’ve heard that Carolina Panthers quarterback Cam Newton was not in the mood to talk after his team’s Super Bowl loss last night. This is what the NFL said he had to say:
Then he walked out. For this he has been criticized by some athletes and media members while being defended by others. The Internet will work that out.
For me, the violation of apparent norms usually points to other questions. In this case this is, what does any athlete owe the press in the aftermath of a game?
Sports are rituals. In the Super Bowl, defeat itself is a ritual, a series of patterned actions meant to neatly resolve the country’s most-watched TV show. I have researched political concession, which is a similar ritual. After the result is clear, the candidates engage in a series of actions and speeches meant to confer legitimacy on the process and turn political discourse toward unity. They do this via the media and for the media. The press disseminates these performances and then, acting as the public’s representatives, sanctions them. One of the things media members look for from losing candidate is graciousness. Journalists and pundits want to praise defeated candidates for bravely facing the worst moment of their life. The expectations and incentives for the candidate are clear.
We treat defeated athletes the same way. Remember a few weeks ago when Vikings kicker Blair Walsh missed a short field goal to cost his team a playoff game? He earned praise for standing up and taking every question from the press afterward. It was a performance of responsibility taking. As the linked piece from Deadspin says though, Walsh did not have any answers for how his 27-yard kick veered wide. Trying to make sense of it in a very public way read as admirable. Last night (I can’t find video of this) Carolina coach Ron Rivera did the traditional postgame interview outside the losing locker room, giving an upbeat 20-second answer to a question from a reporter doing his best impression of a funeral director. The CBS panel then praised Rivera for his graciousness.
There is an element of boundary work in media members playing up the importance of speaking to the media. Sports journalists feel their place in the media system is under siege. If Newton posts his thoughts about the game on the Players Tribune or Uninterrupted this week, it further erodes the sports journalists’ jurisdiction over sports news. In a time of limited resources, why send reporters to one of the most expensive cities in the country for a week if they are not going to write a complete gamer? That audience members see this as important is interesting for the way it constructs the press as an actor in the sports media system. It also illustrates how integral the media are in how we experience events.
Cam Newton is contractually obligated to speak with the media. His bosses demand that he attend media sessions. They do not require him to be engaging, thoughtful, introspective or patient with silly questions. Choosing not to give reporters what they want is anyone’s right, of course. “How are you feeling” is a personal and intrusive question. Saying he just should have sucked it up and been fake for five minutes is silliness. I’ve been on deadline and know that these postgame interviews are there so reporters can replace the <<CAM QUOTE>> placeholder they have in their half-written stories. The postgame presser is a transactional space; the player trades his statements for the chance to shape the story and media goodwill. Equating the production of usable pablum with character, though, is strange.
I expect the criticism Cam Newton will face this week is worse than the criticism a white athlete or coach would face. Bill Belichick faces no penalties for violating these rituals (this is from after the 2014 AFC Championship, and is not all that different then what Newton did, at least the first 2 ½ minutes). He gets to carve out limited exceptions. Peyton Manning was not defined by throwing his offensive line under the proverbial bus in 2006 in a press conference after the AFC Championship game. Neither were particularly gracious.
Whether you read Newton’s sullenness as disrespectful or as a sign that he cares so much he cannot hide the pain of losing depends on your view of him coming in. I assume that it feels terrible to lose a Super Bowl (I am a Detroit Lions fan, so I don’t know if I will ever find out what it is like to even root for a team that loses one). Deadlines are deadlines, but the entire system is populated by people with emotions who are processing events. That is easy to forget when there is a TV show to produce and game stories to get written.
To me, the interesting discussion is how this whole ritual demands packaged performances rather than honest displays of emotion. Those clearly are tied to social expectations for the people who inhabit various roles. Peyton Manning is the Platonic version of the NFL quarterback and someone who can produce “perspective” on a moment’s notice. Cam Newton is neither, at least not yet. Maybe both can be OK?
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