Super Bowl LIX Newsletter: Why Saquon Barkley Adopted the Mamba Mentality

Plus, Zack Baun holds off on celebrating amazing season, and an unbelievable story about Andy Reid during his days with the Eagles and more.
Barkley on the Mamba Mentality: “I don’t think of the Mamba Mentality as [just] this dog, this killer, and it is, but the definition is a constant quest to be the best version of yourself.”
Barkley on the Mamba Mentality: “I don’t think of the Mamba Mentality as [just] this dog, this killer, and it is, but the definition is a constant quest to be the best version of yourself.” / Bill Streicher-Imagn Images

Before he made Philadelphia both home and office this past spring, Saquon Barkley had long drawn inspiration from the city’s most famous son. No, not Rocky. 

Kobe Bryant.

Barkley had adopted Bryant’s competitive approach while still in college at Penn State. He became a Mamba Mentality member in elite standing; so much so, in fact, that Barkley even hung the mentality’s definition in both his house and his gym. “He always talks about wanting to be the greatest, winning a Super Bowl, legacy,” says Jarvis Miller, his college roommate and one of Barkley’s closest friends. “And it all started with that mindset.”

Still, Barkley says his idea of that mentality and its truest meaning evolved over time. In interviews Bryant gave before his death in early 2020, he defined it as “trying to be the best version of yourself” and “a constant quest to try and get better today than you were yesterday.” Earlier into his personal adoption of the mentality, Barkley tells Sports Illustrated that he focused more on out-working, well, everyone. Over time, he came to relate the concept as much to his mental process and his legendary workout routines.

“Just trying to adapt to that mindset, adapt to that mentality,” Barkley says. “I don’t think of the Mamba Mentality as [just] this dog, this killer, and it is, but the definition is a constant quest to be the best version of yourself. It’s every day. It’s not like I go out there and break an 80-yard touchdown against the Rams, and that’s my Mamba moment. But, in reality, that didn’t just happen, [either]. It’s the process. The work you put in.”

He adds, “My best year of preparation and process and trying to dive into that mentality [was] this year.”

Asked for an example, Barkley says, “The biggest thing where I changed on that is not being driven by results and being driven by the process. That’s the biggest step I’ve taken.”

He cites another example that came up in recent weeks in his inner circle. Someone mentioned Tom Brady, and Super Bowl LI against the Atlanta Falcons in early 2017, and that now famous comeback from down 28–3. “Everybody loves a comeback, right?” Barkley says. “But there’s a clip of Tom talking about it, and the way they came back”—one play, one drive, as Brady encouraged his Patriots teammates when all hope appeared lost—“was all process.”

Zack Baun ‘had no expectations’

Philadelphia Eagles linebacker Zach Baun
Baun delivered an All-Pro season after signing a one-year deal with the Eagles as a free agent. / Eric Hartline-Imagn Images

Zack Baun signed with the Philadelphia Eagles on March 13, 2024. He was excited. He also had no idea—like, zero—of the season ahead, not as it actually unspooled. He knew what Eagles brass had told him—that he would likely play on defense as a situational pass rusher and that they expected him to become a “special teams demon”—but his goals remained simple. “I had no expectations coming in,” Baun says. “Honestly, my goals were to make the team and to make an impact on the team, to be a contributor in some way.”

Baun became more, a lot more, right away. He shifted to inside linebacker, a first, in OTAs last spring. He joined a young defense full of rabid birds, if such a thing exists. Many teammates, Baun says, leaned into what they felt they had to prove this season. Many were considered too young to deploy as often as they have been utilized. Nolan Smith Jr., an elite pass rusher by season’s end, was tagged as undersized for that role. Coordinator Vic Fangio was deemed too old to make this kind of impact. Jalen Carter wasn’t yet the beast who destroyed game plans—and quarterbacks—all by himself. There were too many Eagles defenders from Georgia’s powerhouse college program. On and on it went.

In proving, Baun says the Eagles young defenders grew together, into a more cohesive whole. By midseason, he could sense what was ahead. “Like, we’re really figuring this out,” he says. “Everyone has a voice. Everyone has an impact.”

In those months, Baun came to adore Eagles fans as much as they loved him. He found the fanbase similar to the culture in the locker room: tough, gritty, disciplined and passionate. That also means Baun understands that Philadelphia’s pro football team isn’t anywhere near completing the only aim that matters. “We feel like we were supposed to do this,” he says. “We have the roster, the players, coaches, the GM; it [has] all just aligned perfectly.”

Baun could celebrate a lot of 2024, were he inclined to do so. He made first-team All-Pro this season, despite playing an entirely new position, for a new team, with a new coordinator, on a one-year deal. He’s one of five Eagles to receive pro football’s highest annual honor this season. The others: Barkley, left tackle Jordan Mailata, right tackle Lane Johnson and Carter.

For the league’s top-ranked defense, Baun recorded 150 tackles. Eleven of them were for a loss. He also added three-and-a-half sacks, five QB hits, five forced fumbles, one recovery, 14 QB pressures and an interception. Even with sitting out the regular season finale, with the No. 1 seed already secured, Baun played 95 percent of Philadelphia’s defensive snaps.

Anyone who wonders if he celebrated might want to re-read the quote above. Baun came home that evening, and his wife wondered where they should go out to dinner, or how they might celebrate, even in some small way.

“Aren’t you excited?” she asked him.

Well, yes. But not in sum, not yet. There will be time for such considerations in a couple weeks. That night, Baun laid on the couch with his 10-month-old son, and his thoughts centered on the next day’s practice, on the game ahead. Asked how he will celebrate, when time allows, Baun laughs. “I don’t know,” he says, still locked in.

Tell me a story about Andy Reid in Philadelphia

While Andy Reid and Steve Spagnuolo were in Philadelphia, trying to win that elusive Super Bowl with the Eagles, the team employed a Catholic priest that was, in reality, not a priest at all. Brad Childress, who worked with both men in Philly and Kansas City picks it up from there. “I’m a Catholic guy. Many coaches were. So before games there was a nondenominational service, then a Catholic mass. There might be five, six guys in there …

“We were in Veterans Stadium one day, and our secretary says, ‘Hey, Brad, come on out here. I want you to meet somebody.’ …”

She introduced him to the priest. Or the man they thought was a priest. His name struck Childress as unusual, for any priest. “That was the first sign I should have put my hand on my knife. And I’m talking to him, listening to him, and he’s cursing. He’s got that South Philly lilt to his voice.”

After attending one ceremony this priest delivered, Childress asked another coach, “Isn’t that the strangest mass you’ve ever, ever attended?” The answer: uh-huh. Next mass, same thing. Childress went to confession with this priest. “And I think, ‘What kind of horses--t are you saying?’ This guy ain’t a priest. Andy [Reid] came into my office late one night [after the discovery], and he’s jabbing me about my Catholicism, and I’m going right back at him about his Mormonism. And I said, ‘I’ll tell you thing, coach, this freaking priest that we got here, he ain’t a f--king priest.” …

They spoke to the director of security, who called the priest and told him, innocently, that the team needed to see his paperwork. Before he would hand it over, because such paperwork can be easy to obtain under false pretenses or invent altogether, Childress became an investigative reporter. He called an actual priest, one he knew well, in the Midwest. He gave the names of this priest and the priest’s brother, also an alleged priest. The friend/priest told Childress that he had heard of the brothers but he had never heard them give an actual mass, and there were many questions about how they operated.

The director of security asked the Eagles priest again. “And he said, ‘I don’t have any of those papers. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ ” Childress laughs.

“Turns out, he ain’t a priest.”

Then to now: Mahomes’s 2023 stats vs. ’24 stats

In the previous season (2023) where the Chiefs attempted to top the Eagles in a Super Bowl, Patrick Mahomes finished the regular season with a career-high 5,250 passing yards and a career-high 41 touchdown passes. The numbers this year pale in comparison—3,928, 26—and yet …

On background: Chiefs’ offense in ideal shape

Kansas City Chiefs wide receiver Xavier Worthy
The Chiefs have turned Worthy into an elite crossing option for Mahomes. / Denny Medley-Imagn Images

The Chiefs have never been this healthy at this point in any other playoff run or season in which they at least made the Super Bowl. Internally, some would argue that this offense is, in its current, healthier form, better than previous iterations, too. All who believe this are aware that it’s hard to argue against the Travis Kelce-in-prime, Tyreek Hill, explosive plays combination from when the Mahomes era began. But this team can stretch the field with Marquise “Hollywood” Brown and Xavier Worthy. The Chiefs have turned Worthy over the past month or so into an elite crossing option. They can rely on Kelce—like against Houston in the playoffs—when necessary. They have DeAndre Hopkins, who can do everything, just maybe not as often as before. They can lean on not one but two healthy (relative), versatile running backs in Kareem Hunt and Isiah Pacheco. Plus, there’s all of Mahomes’s experience now, too. Right or wrong, their point stands. Kansas City is as prepared for this Super Bowl on offense as they’ve been for any of them. Different. Less explosive. But still in something like an ideal shape.

Quote without context:

“Your priest spoke to our team last night.”

Context:

Oh, yeah. There’s a postscript to that story. Shortly after uncovering the truth, the Eagles played against the Indianapolis Colts. Philly’s defensive line coach walked alongside Childress and Howard Mudd, the Colts’ longtime offensive line czar.

He says the quote above. The D-line gave him a quizzical look back, then said, “Well, Howard, I hate to be the guy to give you some bad news. Turns out, he’s not an actual priest.”

Mudd, per Childress’s recollection, says, “What are you talking about.”

The coach responds, “Hey, don’t kill the messenger. I’m just f--king reporting the news.”

Anyway, Childress says, “Sure as s--t, we go to the game, and the priest is standing on the other sideline! There he is!”

No one involved can recall any sort of resolution here. But what a story.


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Greg Bishop
GREG BISHOP

Greg Bishop is a senior writer for Sports Illustrated who has covered every kind of sport and every major event across six continents for more than two decades. He previously worked for The Seattle Times and The New York Times. He is the co-author of two books: Jim Gray's memoir, "Talking to GOATs"; and Laurent Duvernay Tardif's "Red Zone". Bishop has written for Showtime Sports, Prime Video and DAZN, and has been nominated for eight sports Emmys, winning two, both for production. He has completed more than a dozen documentary film projects, with a wide range of duties. Bishop, who graduated from the Newhouse School at Syracuse University, is based in Seattle.