On Cam Newton, the kid

I’m going to preface this with the disclaimer that I have very little knowledge of the Carolina Panthers, or Cam Newton, or the chemistry inside their locker room. I’ve lived in Charlotte for a month, have watched three of their playoff games and have never spoken to Cam personally. Frankly, I don’t even watch the NFL all that much.

But this has little to do with football and more to do with maturity, leadership and good old-fashioned common sense.

Cam is as polarizing of a figure as you will find in the sports world.

Some love him for his go-lucky attitude, his passion for the game and his penchant for giving footballs to little kids in the stands.

Some say he’s arrogant, prideful and doesn’t play the game the right way.

And up until his postgame press conference after the Super Bowl Sunday night, I tended to agree with those who applauded his childlike joy. With so many bad examples in sports — looking at you, Johnny Football — what’s wrong with a guy who loves what he does and has fun doing it?

But Sunday night showed that there’s more to Cam’s childlike attitude than originally meets the eye.

Newton is one of very few athletes who has experienced overwhelming success in his football career. He led Auburn to a championship in 2010 while carrying the team on his big, broad shoulders. He got drafted first overall by the Panthers in 2011, and while his team languished in the standings for the first two years of his career, he flourished, winning rookie of the year one year and putting up nearly as impressive numbers in his second year.

Then the rest of the team caught up to his talent level. The Panthers made the playoffs in 2013 and 2014, and the stars looked like they were aligning for this to be THE year. Newton looked primed to be the next face of the NFL.

And he was, for 17 games. The most valuable player put up MVP-like numbers, wooed his supporters with his supermans and dabs on the field while brushing off his critics by winning — no, dominating, pummeling, crushing, decimating— his opponents. This is what he did for 17 games, and it was all a growing crescendo for what was supposed to be his final act, a Super Bowl win over the legendary yet hobbled Peyton Manning and the Denver Broncos.

For many, it was an afterthought that the Panthers would #KeepPounding and win this game, just like they’d won their first two playoff games by a combined 41 points. Then the game happened, and Denver’s defense did what it was supposed to do and Carolina’s offense didn’t and by the time the clock ran out it was Peyton hoisting the Lombardi trophy and the Broncos celebrating in the confetti. And the Panthers were left to woulda-coulda-shoulda their way back to the locker room.

And there’s Cam in the postgame presser, surrounded by reporters asking questions he didn’t feel like answering. So, for all intents and purposes, he didn’t. He sat back, sullen, with his hoodie pulled over his head. He answered some questions with one-word answers before deciding, by golly, he’d had enough and didn’t want to do that anymore.

All of the sudden, Cam didn’t have childlike joy. But he was still a child, a three-year-old child that wanted to take his toys and go home because he didn’t want to play nice.

Well, Cam, it’s time to grow up. Because you’re an adult making $30-million this year and this was the biggest game of your life. No, it didn’t unfold the way you anticipated. But, see, that happens in this thing called life.

If Newton wants to be the face of the NFL (and I’d certainly think he does, he’s getting paid like it, has the talent to be it and has the endorsement deals to back it up), then there’s a price that comes with that. Namely, acting like a responsible adult. And being gracious in defeat. And realizing that, like Newton has said so many times before, football is a game.

There’s a lot to be said for what we’ve learned about Newton from this foible. We’ve learned about his temperament, his immaturity, his graciousness (or lack thereof) and then some. And all of these things we learned about Newton in a very short 2 minutes and 32 seconds will likely follow him for a very, very long time, much to his detriment — regardless of what accolades he accumulates on the field.

But there’s also a lot to be said for what people learned from Newton. What did Newton’s teammates — each and every one of them who looks to him as a leader, something I grasped from being in their locker room for all of 30 minutes two weeks ago— learn from him? They learned that they have a weak leader who, when the sun is shining, is a great person to rally around. But if things go south…there’s no telling what might happen.

What else did they learn? That it’s OK to blow people off if they don’t feel like talking? That it’s OK to run and hide?

The same can be said for all those kids who watch Newton every Sunday, who scramble towards the front row of the end zone at Bank of America Stadium hoping to get a football if he scores a touchdown, and who learn how to Superman and dab just like they learn how to read and write. What did they learn from their icon Sunday? (or, more likely, when they see the highlights Monday…and Tuesday…and…)

If parents have an issue with what lessons Newton teaches their children with his exuberance on the field, they should be mortified now.

This one moment after one game. Does it completely undermine everything Newton has done on and off the field for the past three seasons and then some? No, of course not. But, for anyone who watched Newton’s demeanor and listened to his words Sunday night, it should plant a major seed of doubt.

Newton, who has thrived in the spotlight all season long, wilted Sunday night when the light shined brightest. In doing so, he showed that he has a lot of growing up to do before he can be taken seriously as a leader, on or off the field.