(Photo: John Bazemore, AP)
Atlanta — Sean McVay ran — he did not walk — up to the podium. In front of him sat a roomful of cynics, smart alecks and assorted other arrogant ink-stained wretches yearning to slice him into little bits at Super Bowl LIII.
Rat-ta-tat.
McVay fired away a machine-gun, staccato style, so rapidly it was tough to keep up with his comments.
“My grandfather.” “Bill Walsh.” “Coach Brown.” “The Rams.”
Hither and yon.
At a tender 33, McVay has roots, he has heritage in the NFL — and he has a team frothing to take down the mighty New England Patriots, Bill Belichick and Tom Brady.