JEFF PEARLMAN

Coming October 2022: "The Last Folk Hero: The Life and Myth of Bo Jackson"

The football tape I want my kids to see

Tomorrow morning, when they wake up, I’m going to show my children a single video clip from today’s football action.

It’s the one above.

Before a few hours ago, I’d never heard of Brandon Bostick.

He’s now, in my eyes, a hero.

It’s easy to talk when you win. When you lead. When we dazzle. In the Seahawks locker room, there were no goats and no failures. Everyone was available and jovial, because a glow accompanied every word and phrase. Why not be happy? The Super Bowl awaits.

The Packers locker room, however, was silent. That’s the scene after a crushing loss. Heads down, words soft. Oftentimes, those perceived to be goats hide in the back, waiting and waiting and waiting for the assembled media to exit. We’ve all seen it 1,000 times before, and while it’s not ideal, it’s understandable.

Brandon Bostick, 25 and new to any sort of spotlight, did not hide. He took every question, and accepted full blame. He stood there, heartbroken and embarrassed, and refused to walk away. Or raise his voice. Or cower. He did what professionals are supposed to do—but often don’t.

People have suggested that, thanks to the dropped onside kick, he’ll be out of work.

Maybe so.

But if character truly matters, he’ll be signed in a second.