GLENDALE, Ariz. — James Bradberry threw his shoulders back late Sunday night, fixed the clasp to close his sleet black suit jacket, and, with an almost-imperceptible nod of his head, signaled that the inquisition could begin. He had committed a penalty that had cost the Eagles any reasonable chance of victory in Super Bowl LVII, grabbing JuJu Smith-Schuster’s jersey for less than a second — a holding infraction that led to a first down for the Kansas City Chiefs, a 27-yard field goal for Harrison Butker, and a 38-35 Eagles loss. Now cameras and notepads and smart phones were recording his every word, his explanations and apologies for what had gone wrong.
Jonathan Gannon didn’t signal anything. Not intentionally.
Five minutes … 10 minutes … 20 … Bradberry stayed there, answering one hard question after another about his mistake. The small crowd around him was like an amoeba, shifting in shape and size. Reporters hovered around him. Reporters moved on to interview other players. More reporters sidled up. And all the while, Bradberry never raised his voice, never objected to any of the endless reminders that he had made one of the biggest mistakes in the biggest of games. He didn’t blame anyone. He didn’t display any outward anger or frustration. All he did was admit to his error again and again and again.
What did you think of the call, James?
“Pulled the jersey,” he said. “He called holding. I was hoping they would let it ride. But it was holding.”
Do officials always call that? Do they typically let that kind of play ride?
“I’m not sure. I think the playoff games I saw, sometimes the ref let things like that go. It depends on the refs. I mean, that’s not up for my judgment. I was hoping he would let it go, but of course, you know, he’s a ref. It’s a big game. It was a holding, and he called it.”
Jonathan Gannon did not answer these kinds of questions after Super Bowl LVII. He did not answer any questions from the media after Super Bowl LVII. He didn’t admit to anything. Not publicly, anyway.
As the Eagles’ defensive coordinator, Gannon was under no formal obligation to speak to reporters Sunday night at State Farm Stadium. But given that his defense had allowed 31 points and 158 rushing yards and 6.4 yards per play to the Chiefs, given that Andy Reid had outsmarted him throughout the game’s second half, given that the Eagles never forced a turnover and never sacked Patrick Mahomes — despite Mahomes’ sprained right ankle — it would have reflected well on Gannon to open himself up to some inquiry. Even if he had stood there and recited the same insight-blocking cliches — I wish we had played better, I have to look at the film, You have to give those guys credit — at least he would have been standing there, taking it. Like James Bradberry took it. Like the other players on the Eagles’ defense took it.
“I felt like I only had two options, really,” Bradberry told reporters Tuesday. “I could take responsibility for it, or I could blame it on somebody else. But I try not to live that way. I guess you could say that comes from my mom or the coaches in the past I’ve had, talking about just taking accountability for whatever happens within the game.”
Two weeks ago, in the immediate celebration of the Eagles’ 31-7 victory over the 49ers in the NFC championship game, Jonathan Gannon said to a reporter: “Philly is keeping me. Good, bad, or indifferent, I’m staying here.” On Monday, Jonathan Gannon interviewed to be the Arizona Cardinals’ head coach. On Tuesday, the Cardinals hired him. He is 40, young and ambitious. He performed well, on the whole, over his two seasons with the Eagles, and he might yet perform well as an NFL head coach. There’s no way to know, really, who’s cut out for success in that role, with that much power, and who isn’t.
This much is certain, though: When it came time for him to stand shoulder to shoulder with the men who played under him — with one man, Bradberry, an All-Pro cornerback who played as well for him all season as just about anyone on the Eagles’ defense did — Jonathan Gannon couldn’t wait to get out of town and get to what he hoped would be his next job. Shane Steichen, who on Tuesday went from being the Eagles’ offensive coordinator to the Indianapolis Colts’ head coach, also didn’t talk to any reporters after the Super Bowl. But he did make his way through the locker room to talk to his players. Gannon, by all indications, couldn’t be bothered. Jim Schwartz, Gannon’s predecessor, wouldn’t answer for his and his unit’s play immediately after games, either, including those games when the Eagles’ defense was at its worst. It was wrong when Schwartz did it, just as it is now that Gannon has.
It’s a common complaint among sports fans and followers that media members are too intrusive, that they don’t need to be in the locker room, that all they do is ask dumb questions so they can feel important. There’s truth in that complaint, but this is true, too: Sometimes, those postgame interactions can lift the veil that separates coaches and athletes from the public. Sometimes, in those postgame interactions, someone reveals something telling and genuine about himself, about his character. With one calm, thoughtful answer after another following the worst moment of his football life, James Bradberry did. So did Jonathan Gannon, without ever saying a word.
