Did the Packers and Steelers RSVP for the Super Bowl? Their attendance may no longer be necessary. Might be better to disinvite Green Bay and Pittsburgh and eat the deposit on the Black Eyed Peas. Instead, let's summon Dr. Sanjay Gupta, Dr. Dre and Doogie Howser down to Texas, bolt an operating table to the midfield of Cowboys Stadium and settle the question America appears to be more interested in than determining the NFL's best football team:
How injured is Jay Cutler?
Can we all agree how absurd that uproar was? Sure, the "How Hurt Was Jay?" argument had the prerequisites for a shrill NFL blab-fest: It was a clash between old-school football toughness (he shudda played on one leg!) and new-school sensitivities (but what about his future?); it involved a high-profile (and unpopular) player in a mega game; and most importantly, it was fresh meat for the prolonged delay between the conference championships and the Super Bowl, a/k/a The Most Maddeningly Drawn-Out Fortnight In Sports.
But it soon skewed silly. Anti-Cutler Tweets from bored NFL players on their recliners were treated with the seriousness of leaked state-department cables. Then there was a breathless report of Mr. Cutler ascending a restaurant staircase after the 21-14 Bears loss, as if he'd performed a Twyla Tharp interpretive dance atop the dessert table. Later Mr. Cutler was spied by a paparazzi camera with his reality-show girlfriend—shopping in Los Angeles.
The ignominy! Would Sam Huff be caught dead in a Crate & Barrel?
Never mind that Mr. Cutler's Bears had, uh, lost the NFC championship. Or the much more interesting quarterback story of Bears third-stringer Caleb Hanie. Or the news that Mr. Cutler actually turned out to be hurt—a sprained MCL, one sharp hit from a career-altering ACL injury. By midweek, the popping sound you heard was Mr. Cutler's critics spraining their own MCLs while revising their judgments.
The Cutler-versy felt rash and personal, an NFL version of the social-media bullying that freaks out every high-school principal alive. In the end, the pile-on appeared to have less to do with sports medicine and much more to do with Mr. Culter's aloof reputation.
Bears quarterback Jay Cutler after leaving last Sunday's NFC Championship Game with an injury.
Surely it bewildered the Packers, the team that had actually won the NFC Championship Game with an uninjured, likable quarterback. At some point Aaron Rodgers must have thought: "Three straight road playoff wins, six touchdown passes…you mean to tell me I needed to sulk on the sideline to get some attention?"
By week's close, the NFL's gaze had moved on to a far broader dispute: the possibility of a season-terminating lockout. This, too, has been a contentious affair, with predictable posturing as players and owners tangle over issues including revenue sharing, a rookie salary cap and an 18-game regular season. Last week, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell tried to grab good will by saying he would slash his pay from about $10 million to one dollar should a lockout occur. A intriguing gesture, but let's see: If Mr. Goodell does his job, he'll be paid millions; if he does not, he'll get next to zero…who does the commissioner think he is, an NFL player?
But the players weren't seizing much high ground. Jets cornerback Antonio Cromartie popped off about the labor dispute, calling the league and the players-association leadership an unflattering seven-letter term he once used to describe Patriots quarterback Tom Brady. That provoked a snarky, soon-erased tweet—what is it with the NFL and Twitter?—from Seattle quarterback Matt Hasselbeck, who asked if Mr. Cromartie "knows what CBA stands for." This, in turn, prompted Mr. Cromartie to tweet back: "Hey Matt if u have something to say then say it be a man about it. Don't erase it. I will smash ur face in."
Welcome to sixth-grade recess, everybody!
Both the infighting over labor talks and the internal second-guessing of Mr. Cutler signal an anxious, agitated moment. There's the possibility of a work stoppage, and the loss of billions in potential revenue. Meanwhile, there's increased awareness about the lifetime risks of playing football, conflict over how to mitigate the dangers of a collision-based sport—and the unsettling reality that one method of addressing the financial trouble is to add two more games.
It's a vulnerable time for the NFL, and the Super Bowl game is in the unusual position of being the big fat distraction of Super Bowl week—an honor that usually goes to trash talk and curfew violations. Next Sunday, the Packers and Steelers meet at the $1.2 billion Cowboys Stadium that Jerry Jones built out of gold bullion and recycled egos. There will be hype over Super Bowl commercials and Fergie's halftime outfit and a reported $900 parking spot that, in fairness, does come with an on-site rest room. Even with two old-world franchises in it, the Super Bowl is always a bit of a garish spectacle—as Liberace as it is Lombardi.
But underneath the usual fireworks and bombast lurks a sport facing distress about its 21st century identity and evolution. Who will be the leaders here? When NFL going gets tough, the tough will need more than tweeting.
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