There's a lot about Richard Sherman that feels contrived. Like a host of brashly great athletes before him, he seems to be self-consciously constructing a public identity that's so outsized and simple it couldn't possibly be real. During his postgame press conference this past Sunday, he twice asked facetious questions about past Seahawks wins with a sort of Bueller? Bueller? Bueller? expression on his face. He once told Skip Bayless "I'm better at life than you," and got into a Twitter beef with Darrelle Revis. On the field, he's talkative and preening. It's not a particularly fresh take on villainy; I'm reminded of Osi Umenyiora quoting lines from Talladega Nights and referring to LeSean McCoy as "she" (because retrograde gender politics are hilarious). The Arrogant Winner isn't a new archetype, but Sherman may be the foremost example in sports right now.
This isn't to get Costasian and characterize Sherman's approach to the game as somehow unholy. A football field should not be a gentlemanly place, what with all the people-smashing going on, and what's appealing about demonstrative athletes is they usually elicit strong feelings one way or another. We either delight in their antics or mutter profanities into our beers about them. Cris Collinsworth mentioned on Sunday night's broadcast that Sherman's self-regard has a certain strategic element as well, in that he feels like his trash talk gives him something to aspire to. His body and mind are motivated by his mouth. This, if you've watched Richard Sherman play, is apparently a very effective self-motivational tool.
