The questions kept coming at Rex Ryan, from female television reporters he had never seen before, and at one point, the macho head coach of the Jets looked as if he wanted to cry.
He has been outed by Deadspin as Sex Ryan.
It was almost unbearable watching him twist in the wind inside the Atlantic Health Jets Training Center yesterday afternoon, his bellowing voice reduced to little more than a whisper, his dignity stripped bare for all to see.
TORMENTED REX BARES ‘SOLE’ OVER VIDS
He was asked about a YouTube toe-fetish video with his wife and ads seeking bondage, and he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, go there.
But understand this: Rex Ryan did not cheat on his wife.
He did not try to steal another man’s wife away.
He was not charged with domestic violence.
His crime — aside from using egregious judgment in his final days as Ravens defensive coordinator — was loving his wife Michelle too much.
He had already addressed the matter with his team, telling them, “Something has come out that’s embarrassing. But I’ll be more prepared than [Bears coach] Lovie Smith.”
Then came the press conference that will live in infamy in the Ryan household.
“Mr. Ryan,” Mary Murphy from Channel 11 began, “did you and your wife make the fetish videos?”
There was no braggadocio from him now, no blond wig to get everybody in the room laughing, only a shaken man facing the firing squad. His personal Mud Bowl.
“All right . . . well . . . obviously, I knew these questions, this question’s comin’ and things . . . ”
The photographers clicked away.
“This is a personal matter, and I’m not gonna discuss it.”
Another television reporter asked: “Can you confirm if that was you and your wife in that video?”
“Again,” Ryan began, “This is a personal matter. I hope you can respect the . . . fact that I wish not to discuss it.”
Another television reporter asked: “Is it taking your focus off the team?”
“I’m gonna be ready to play Chicago, we’re gonna be ready to play Chicago, and I am ready,” Ryan said. “It’s my job, I’m focused on the job at hand.”
The media sharks smelled blood in the water.
“Rex, can you talk about how these videos got on YouTube?”
“Rex, by not denying it, the perception would be the opposite . . . ”
It went on. The photographers never stopped clicking away.
Then a reporter asked, “Can you tell us about your wife?”
And here is when Ryan perked up for the first time, as if the sun began shining through this darkest of days.
“My wife’s beautiful, [we’ve] been married for 23 years, and . . . she’s awesome.”
There were two more questions until finally, mercifully, team spokesman Bruce Speight, standing to Ryan’s left, said, “I think the coach has made his preference clear that it’s a personal matter. So we’ll entertain questions on something else.”
So the very next question concerned Santonio Holmes, who missed practice yesterday, and you couldn’t make up the explanation even if you tried.
“During the game, I guess he had a toe injury,” Ryan said. Say it ain’t toe, indeed.
Rex Ryan has skeletons in his closet, just like you and me. He isn’t a criminal. His wife isn’t Shoeless Joan Jackson.
He deserves my sympathy, not my scorn.