This was supposed to be Cam Newton’s year.
Newton had the sort of 2015 that turns a mere superstar into a generational figure. He was the MVP. His team went 15–1 and waltzed into the Super Bowl. His was the second-best-selling jersey in the sport. He dabbed. Perhaps more than anything else, he appeared to be enjoying himself in a league that has a self-destructive tendency to frown on any mirth. Even his Super Bowl nightmare, which included a controversial did-he-go-hard-enough-after-a-fumble and a postgame brush-off of an aggressive media swarm, showed how secure he was in his place as the player in the NFL.