In New Orleans, This Super Bowl is All About Stars

My favorite moment on Media Day involved Corwin Brown, a defensive back for the Patriots. Not being one of the celebrated players, Brown wasn’t placed on one of the raised podiums that were reserved for stars such as Drew Bledsoe, Dave Meggett and Terry Glenn, who figured to draw the most media attention. Players of that stature got a platform and a microphone. Brown was consigned to a spot on the floor of the Superdome, like a backup singer.

Occasionally, a reporter would amble over to Brown, and ask him a question. But clearly, the amount of attention Brown wanted wasn’t coming his way. So he borrowed a TV camera from one of the hundreds of crews staffing the event, and shouldering it, he began to jostle his way through the crowd surrounding a familiar MTV face -- who was conducting his own interviews.

“Hey, MTV man!” Brown shouted.

Startled, the MTV man turned around, and saw Brown, in his New England game jersey, pointing the camera at him.

“MTV man,” Brown repeated. “Hey, look at me. I’m the man. I want your job.”

Playing along, Bill Bellamy, the MTV man, aimed his microphone at Brown and asked, “How can you do this, play football and also be a cameraman?”

“It’s because I’m versatile, baby,” Brown declared.

With this one bold move Corwin Brown made himself a Somebody. Reporters flocked to him, trying to get a word from this brash, ebullient unknown. Brown reveled in the glow of the 15 minutes of fame he’d sought. Jubilantly, he explained himself: “I didn’t have any attention. I had to get myself on camera. I had to get myself on mike.” He looked at the faces surrounding him, and he said, exultantly, “Now I got all you guys around me.”

Corwin Brown, I love you, man.

Media Day is the NFL’s version of a cattle call. Thousands of TV, radio and newspaper reporters gather at the Super Bowl site, waiting to be unleashed on the players from the two Super Bowl teams. At 8:30 a.m., when the first of two hour-long interview sessions begins, the NFL might just as well go, “Moooooo.” Reporters rush down the steps and poke at the players like melons at a fruit stand.

It’s easy to discern the pecking order among players. Not only do the stars get the podiums, but the lesser players, the backup singers, are often asked about the stars. The gaggle around Mark Chmura, one of Green Bay’s fine tight ends, hadn’t come to talk about Chmura -- but about Chmura’s best friend, Brett Favre, a star. Tell us a story about Favre, the reporters pleaded, and Chmura responded:

“Frank Winters (Green Bay’s center) and I were down in Mississippi visiting Brett, and we were out on a boat on the river near his house. It was a hot day and Brett wanted to go swimming over the side of the boat. Well, Frankie’s a Jersey kid, and he’s wondering what he’s doing there to begin with. But Brett says we should all jump in. All of a sudden a dead animal floats by with no head. And Frank says: ‘What the heck is that?’ And Brett says, ‘Oh, that’s a beaver -- just got his head bit off by an alligator ... you guys ready to go swimming?’ Frankie screams, ‘Take us home!’ ”

Over the course of an hour Chmura probably told the story three times. See, folks have to know their roles. As the wonderful Brazilian Olympic basketball player Marcel Souza once said, when asked why he and Oscar Schmidt always took 90 percent of their team’s shots, “Some people play the piano, and some people carry the piano.”

On Green Bay, Favre and Reggie White play the piano. Everyone else carries. That’s why you’d have seen many Packers hanging around the edges of the interview area, waiting for the hour to end. They may have felt some jealousy, but no anger. Young defensive ends Shannon Clavelle and Keith McKenzie looked on in wonder as reporters sprinted past them to take up positions near White.

“Everybody understands it’s Reggie’s turn now,” Clavelle said. “I wish it was me. I always wish it was me, every day. But I understand I have to wait.”

McKenzie was so convinced of his irrelevance, he sat down on the floor 10 minutes into the hour.

“That’s it?” somebody asked him. “You’re done?”

“How can I be done?” McKenzie smiled, “when I ain’t never started?”