Cam Newton and the sin of authenticity

It’s no surprise that Super Bowl Sunday ended with Carolina Panthers quarterback and league MVP Cam Newton at the center of another inane controversy. Newton has been a lightning rod for criticism since his college years and Sunday proved no different. There are some people from whom Newton just can’t catch a break — people who delight in magnifying each and every one of his shortcomings. All of his flaws get blown out of proportion. He’s not allowed to be imperfect, a work in progress, human.

This latest Newton-related controversy is about his attitude at the postgame press conference. After fielding only a few questions, and after only providing one answer longer than seven words, Newton elected to get up and leave. He shunned the expected postgame routine of spouting paint-by-numbers platitudes. There were no empty responses copy and pasted straight from the gracious loser’s playbook. Instead there was a young quarterback, fresh off a terrible game, who had absolutely no interest in spoon-feeding the media unoriginal, emotionally vacant column fodder. Instead of sitting there and playing along with the charade, Newton, clearly disappointed in his performance and the game’s outcome, chose to walk away.

If you think people responded to Newton’s reticence positively, if you think people reacted with understanding and sympathy — Hey, this young guy just came up short in the biggest game of his life. Perhaps it’s understandable and acceptable if he’s a touch despondent — you clearly haven’t been paying attention to how he’s been treated this season.

You can do your own Twitter search for “Cam Newton + immature” or “Cam Newton + class” and find all the scorching hot takes your heart desires. Everyone has weighed in, from pundits to ex-players. The common sentiment in the anti-Cam camp is that Newton, a player who has built his identity on being boisterous and demonstrative, didn’t handle the postgame presser like a professional. The groupthink being that a player who dares to dance after first downs, one who smirks and struts, cocky as can be, shouldn’t prematurely walk out of his own presser. That doing so is a sign that of being thin-skinned hypocrite.

That’s hogwash. Newton chose not to field many questions, to glower and sulk instead of flip into automaton cliché soundbite mode, because that’s who he is. What makes Newton such a fun player to watch, even if you’re not a fan of the Panthers, is how he wears his emotions on his sleeve. His openness and honesty make him compelling. The same part of him that dances and taunts is the same part of him that was on displaying during the presser Sunday night. Only instead of his usual exuberance, Newton displayed frustration and hurt.

If Newton had sat up there and delivered nothing but tired soundbites about effort and execution, it would have seemed incongruous to his identity. He displays real human emotions on the field. He’s intense. He’s unafraid of letting the world see how he feels in any given moment. It’s ridiculous to expect that aspect of his personality to vanish into thin air following the biggest loss of his career.

Newton didn’t play well on Sunday. He overthrew receivers and turned the ball over multiple times. After a year of appearing superhuman, he looked very mortal against a vicious, swarming Denver Broncos defense. He reacted to his poor performance like any reasonable person would; he was angry and disappointed and in no mood to overhear Denver players talk about how they rattled him. That’s an understandable reaction, a relatable one. It doesn’t demonstrate a lack of professionalism; it indicates a level of care. It was a human — an undeniably, painfully human — response to an awful night. There’s no reason to fault him for that.

The people scolding Newton ignore the fact he went and congratulated Peyton Manning after the game. They ignore how Manning, a player who has been less than cooperative after big losses, complimented Newton, calling him gracious and a good sport. These facts are swept aside because they don’t fit the preferred narrative, the one in which Newton is a special kind of bad — someone who wanders into areas of unacceptable behavior never before seen in the game of football. It’s an ugly attitude to have about one of the most dynamic and exciting young players in the game, but it’s a persistent one, for reasons that don’t take a scholar to understand. People want Newton to become another robot who will march up to the podium and deliver the sort of bland postgame statements that “being a professional” demands. That he’s willing to be human instead is seen as an act of rebellion.

Look, was Newton’s refusal to answer more than a few questions — and to provide terse answers at that — the best course of action ? No, certainly not. He shouldn’t be celebrated for ditching his presser. But he also shouldn’t be demonized and painted as an unprofessional brat. To depict him as such is insulting and incoherent, close-minded and unreasonable. The NFL doesn’t need another emotionless drone. It needs more players like Newton, individuals unafraid to let their human sides shine through. Football is emotional, full of soaring highs and crushing lows. Why try to suppress the human element of the game?

As much as athletes are depicted as mythic and untouchable, they are people like the rest of us. People experience heartbreak; people ache when they fall short and see dreams crumble; people aren’t always patient; people aren’t always cooperative. Losing sight of humanistic qualities and valuing inauthentic behavior, all in the name of professionalism, is selfish and unhelpful. What makes Newton special is that he’s unapologetically himself, in both good times and bad, and that should never be criticized.