Scottsdale, AZ — Amid the hubbub of Super Bowl week — fraught as it is with journos jockeying for the attention of those who very much do not want to give them attention — there has been a storyline that's passed relatively unmentioned: Marshawn Lynch's reticence in front of the football media.
I caught up with Marshawn this afternoon, and our sprawling, broad-reaching conversation limned some fascinating insights into the Seahawk runner's apparent disdain for interviewers' questions and all-around hyena-like approach to NFL sports writing.
On Marcus Hayes' assessment that Lynch is neither a professional nor an adult:
Man, I could care less what some whiskey-dicked alcoholic from Philly thinks of my professionalism. You wanna talk about adulthood? Adulthood is doing the most with what you got. You have five words of quotable material to work with? Make it work. We both know why we're here, and we both know that my answers to your questions are gonna be as informative as any other member of our organization, in that they ain't gonna be informative at all. You want me to tell you that our first offensive play from scrimmage is gonna be a halfback counter left from a two tight-end set? Fine, that's what it's gonna be. But in the end, just what in the fuck have you actually learned? Why don't you ask me about music or something, white bread? Oh, that's right, your favorite band is the Monkees.
On Brian Murphy's comment that Lynch's "sphinx act" forgets that his paycheck gets cashed by the people writing about him:
Yes, I'm serious, Marshawn, he actually said this:
Oh wow. That's some hot fire right there, ain't it? Well, I guess, taking that line of reasoning at face value, sure, without the hype-machine and ... what's the word ... honeypot the media can provide, my salary would probably be somewhat lower. But then on the other hand, without the NFL media, the Brian Murphys of the world would just regress into every shit-faced Eagles fan screaming the n-word at me on Sundays. See, this antagonism toward me — saying I lack class, that I disrespect the business, shit like that — to me this is just a bunch of white, mouthy assholes demanding that I give them what they want. And you know what? Beast Mode don't play that way.
I might also remind Brian Murphy that it was the Sphinx asking the question, and if you got it wrong, she ate your ass.
Are you saying there's a racial component to these criticisms?
These guys are too stupid and self-absorbed to be aware of it, but yeah, there's probably a tinge of "this young, defiant black man owes us useable quotes." I mean, I grew up in motherfucking Oakland, dude. You wanna force me into a chair and fire off inane questions about my preparation for the Super Bowl? What the hell do you think I'm doing to prepare for the Super Bowl? Sacrificing she-goats? Get the fuck outta here.
All I'm saying is — well, let me put it this way. I don't know who or what a @Bro_Pair is, but he's pretty much dead-on with this take:
Why didn't you answer Bart Hubbuch's question about your contractual obligation to be available at the Super Bowl Media Days?
What? I did answer that idiot. I told him that I was there so I didn't get fined. Did he not write that down? That's just shitty journalism, in my opinion. Look, I gave him an answer, but not the answer he wanted. What, does he think I'm gonna wax at length about how, no, in fact I don't think I should be able to blow off the same circus stunt my teammates must also go through, or that his question puts words in my mouth and already assumes its conclusion and is, thus, a leading question and therefore of questionable journalistic merit? Would he even understand such a response? Here's a leading question for you, Bart: when you drink yourself into a diarrhetic stupor do you always call your ex-wife sobbing?
On his problematic relationship with the constitutionally-guaranteed freedoms that Chris Kyle fought so hard for:
Hold on, what now?
Hand to God, some dude tweeted this about you:
Aw, man. Joking, right? Oh, you're not joking. Well, you wanna talk about freedom and coercion? How about the threat of $100k taken from your next paycheck for not showing up to talk to Pete fucking Prisco, who always already hates my guts? How about not being able to wear an NFL FANSHOP hat featuring my Beast Mode logo without the threat of monetary docking? How about my pal Richard Sherman getting called a thug for saying too much, and me getting called immature — and a thug, mind you — for saying too little? How about you just fuck all the way off, Joseph Arrambidez?
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