The first 25 games of Odell Beckham Jr.’s career were the best start by a receiver in NFL history. He’s a freak athlete whose particular cheat code is the one-handed circus catch; all he needs to grab a football is momentary contact at the subatomic level, and then molecule by molecule, he’ll gather it in. But his 26th NFL game, days before Christmas in 2015, was a catastrophe, one that has echoed into a grim off-season for the Giants and, in some ways, for Beckham, too.

Here’s what happened. Carolina Panthers versus Beckham’s New York Giants. Carolina screaming toward the Super Bowl, the Giants stumbling through a lost season, one whose only bright spot, really, was Beckham. During pre-game warm-ups, a few Carolina players stalked around Beckham while waving a baseball bat—a debatably bush-league, deﬁnitely ludicrous attempt to get in a rival’s head. Though maybe it worked, because for the ﬁrst time, Beckham was trash, dropping a sure-thing touchdown pass and recording zero catches in the ﬁrst half. Panthers cornerback Josh Norman, a gifted instigator who may have been one of the pre-game bat-brandishers, hounded him at every turn as Carolina went up, 35–7, even stepping over his prone body at one point. Eventually Beckham snapped, spearing Norman in the head. The next day, the NFL suspended him for one game.

Even Beckham’s defenders would probably agree that, yes, all in all, the Carolina game was not his ﬁnest hour…but they might also point out that the Giants did mount a furious comeback to tie the score (before falling on a last-second ﬁeld goal), and it was Beckham who caught the game-tying touchdown, beating Norman for the ball, then stepping over his prone body in the end zone.

See, when Odell Beckham Jr. talks about people making a name off him, he’s talking principally about Josh Norman. This spring, after nearly winning the Super Bowl with Carolina, Norman signed with Washington, the Giants’ NFC East nemesis, guaranteeing at least two Beckham-Norman face-offs each and every season. Washington won the division last season, is loaded with young talent, and gave Norman a deal worth $75 million to leave Carolina—but Beckham believes none of that is why he signed with Washington. Odell Beckham Jr. believes Norman signed with Washington because of Odell Beckham Jr.

Jacket, $695, by Burberry / Pants, $795, by Burberry / Top necklace Cartier bottom necklace / All bracelets, and ring (left) David Yurman ring (right) Tiffany & Co.

“I’m sure,” he says.

Really? He came for you?

“Yeah. For sure. I mean, it’s a smart business move for him.”

We are sitting on a restaurant balcony in Manhattan overlooking the Hudson River, the downtown skyline red-orange-blue in front of us as the sun sets on an unseasonably crisp June night. Odell Beckham Jr.’s life right now is nothing but incredible views. He’s wearing a tank top and gets a chill shortly after sitting down; moments later, someone helpfully brings him a black hoodie. (Shut up, Eagles fans. It was fucking cold.)

Now, no one would contest the idea that Beckham was one factor in Norman’s decision. Probably not even Josh Norman. But the factor? It’s maybe a little crazy? A little Drake-y? I ask Beckham a third time, just to make sure I’m not misunderstanding: Really? Yes, really.

“It goes back to what I was saying. If I wasn’t playing him twice a year, maybe people wouldn’t bring it up as much,” Beckham says. “But now it’ll be a lot more media attention for him, attention that I don’t really look for, attention that I don’t need. The reason that he’s become so relevant is because of me.”

Beckham knows the whole spectacle with Norman has hurt his rep—he calls it “the one blemish” on his career—but he also insists he’d do it all again: “If I didn’t ﬁght back, it would be looked upon as…words that probably shouldn’t go in this article, you know what I mean?” Six months later, in fact, Beckham’s ire seems equally split between Norman and a few unnamed teammates who, in his opinion, quit on him that day.

“There weren’t a lot of people who, so to say, had my back during that game, that’s for sure,” he claims. “In my opinion.”

You mean on your side?

He nods. “Their team was up, 35–7. And I’m competitive. I don’t like to lose. We’re sitting there, and people are thinking about what we’re doing after the game.”

These last remarks, it’s safe to assume, will not go over well in New York. And yet only minutes later, he’ll speak of embracing a leadership role and, in the midst of an almost messianic vision of the coming season, he’ll praise the teammates he just criticized: “I get these weird divine feelings. They’re, like, so strong I can’t shake them. When I think about Super Bowl 51”—as in, the next one—“I think about the guys that we have. It almost makes me sick to my stomach because I know that it’s going to happen. I’m saying it now, and it’s weird. And then it comes the time, and it’s like, ‘Wow. This is really happening.’ ”