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Plenty of players wear that kind of punishment on their faces after a while. Only the hands give him away, the fact that he plays a borderline blood sport for money and our entertainment. More than 300 yards passing, 100 yards rushing, five passing touchdowns in a single game, the first player in NFL history to do that. It’s this quality, paradoxically, that has led to some of the most savage and consistent criticism of Cam Newton. The salesman at the cigar store, Ben, a friendly guy with a bushy beard and a green tie, just lights up like someone shot off a bottle rocket in front of him. He told the football writer Peter King he wanted to be considered an “entertainer and icon” in addition to a football player, and America reacted like that isn’t exactly what we want our quarterbacks to be. “I just sound reasonable to me,” a then 75-year-old Richardson said. 1 because his teammate and future backup, Jimmy Clausen, already has Cam’s old number, No. He sulks after losses; his own coach, Ron Rivera, calls him “Mr.

You wouldn’t know he regularly gets hit at car-crash speeds by rough human equivalents of compact cars. Entering his sixth remarkable season in the league and he looks…fresh. “What other sport do you know brings people around, or that brings the unity from family, friends, loved ones, like a Super Bowl does? It was like watching something implacable make its way down the field—the improbable grace amid chaos, the sheer power of his talent. Part of discipline is knowing when to change things up. We all have things that we would not want others to know. We don’t need to recount all these things that he would prefer other people not to know, right? For a decade now—ever since he left the University of Florida under controversial circumstances, and Auburn, where he wound up, also under controversial circumstances—Cam’s been apologizing for the teenager he was. And I just want to be the voice of that.” He’s a better man at 27 than he was at 18, even as he regularly endures condescension far worse than what he got as a kid. NFL Network’s Mike Mayock: “It’s just this gut feeling that I have that I don’t know how great he wants to be.” And: “Something tells me he’ll be content to be a multimillionaire who’s pretty good.” He came into the league under the shadow of real prejudice. But Richardson’s account survives on You Tube; look it up, if you want to break something.)As a rookie, Cam wears No.

He asked them if they would consider taking his photograph wearing a hoodie again. Even as athletics can function as a leverage piece for African-American expression, it still points to the inequities that go on.”Look—even by the standards of professional sports, the NFL is by far our most buttoned-down, militaristic, conservative, tyrannical, anti-individual league. Cam walks around Atlanta like the city belongs to him, like he belongs to the city. Part of a long series of out-there, occasionally dubious fashion choices for Cam, who more than once wore a $200 foxtail—the feathery tail of a dead fox—clipped to his trousers during a press conference.

According to the magazine, Newton’s father explained to them why: “The hoodie can represent a lot of things as it pertains to a young Black man. Maybe it’s because it’s been so lucrative for so long. We barely make it into the cigar shop before the other salesman, a dapper guy with cuff links and thick-framed glasses named Jonathan, cries out in recognition, takes Cam aside, Cam getting more and more excited. Another way he can’t help but assert personality in his colorless league.

He isn’t going to stop celebrating after touchdowns and wins, or walking off podiums in angry silence after his team loses. A white piece of paper covered in neat, tiny handwriting, Cam reading aloud from it. Otherwise he’s so perfectly proportional you wouldn’t notice the way he’s built, which is: densely. If someone stumbled out of the Alaskan wilderness tomorrow, wondering why we’re all so obsessed with this dumb, complicated game, you’d show them tape of Cam—against the Giants last year, maybe, the game where the Panthers led 35–7 in the third quarter, gave up the entire lead by the end of the fourth, only for Cam to rise up from the turf, unkillable like Michael Myers, and calmly drive his team to victory. Because it’s true, he looks fucking invincible out there. He started smoking cigars two years ago, he says; after the Super Bowl loss he started drinking white wine, too, mostly Chardonnays. “We all have life lessons that we most dearly learn from. All these so-called experts calling him, in effect, lazy.

They’re like weird stone formations you might encounter out in a desert. Seventeen wins in 19 games last season and he could care less. He orders a green tea and a Shirley Temple, extra syrup. If you control your choice of words, you can, you know, kind of go down from there.” He’s obsessed with testing himself. Dear my Father Lord, I thank you for waking us up this morning, starting us on our way, putting food on our table, clothes on our body, shoes on our feet. Let it be the nourishment of our body in Christ’s name. The waiters can’t get enough of him; they explain the menu so many times I think I might dream about it.

It was national news—not just the loss but the press conference. And we didn’t.” He’s past it now without regretting it exactly: “I could care less. Cam showing up on your TV every Sunday like Tony Soprano garroting new victims. It’s amazing, the scale and duration of what Cam’s endured from the football public; it’s why I wanted to ask him about it.

“Newton, 26, an ebullient, intelligent, gifted quarterback,” wrote “I had so much emotion,” he says now, trying to explain. You know, what a person says to me, says about me—if it’s not coming out of Chosen’s mouth.… And meanwhile ostensible sports fans found new things to get upset about. But faced with a national-magazine writer and a switched-on tape recorder, you too might say something other than what you really thought, if that thought seemed like a dangerous, potentially uncontrollable thing to share with a stranger.

With a person whose motivations you couldn’t be sure of. Just compelling to just see a person of his magnitude.