I’m not like them
But I can pretend
The sun is gone
But I have a light
The day is done
But I’m having fun
I think I’m dumb
Or maybe just happy
Think I’m just happy
For the first time since 2013, I didn’t attend a live football game, where the Seahawks were one of the teams playing. This season, each city we were eager to see a football game in (Charlotte, Chicago, Denver) were out of the question due to timing conflicts. The other games played in Seattle, which has become an even year visiting phenomenon for us, just didn’t work. Sure, there were tons of cities we wanted to visit, and the home city of our preferred football team was always open. Not to mention, a fun-ass time that would be hosted by the booster club in London by the UK Seahawkers.
In 2014, we went to Seattle. Baltimore was our 2015 trip. We went to MetLife across the river AND CenturyLink in 2016. Another MetLife trip in 2017. But nothing in 2018.
So, we sat it out this year. We sat out traveling for football season for the first time since 2014, and we embraced our role as out-of-market fans. Instead of going on a cross country flight and eating great food over at Pike Place Market and drinking some fancy cocktails over in Belltown, or hitting up Bush Garden for some beers post-CenturyLink, we instead shared our Sundays with our friends at Carlow East on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. (Although I think having a Seahawks bar in Manhattan would make more sense on the Upper WEST Side…after all, the Pacific Northwest is the UWS of the United States.)
Carlow East and the NYCeahawks are nothing to shake a stick at, though. In fact, I think no one from the Pacific Northwest can challenge the authenticity of the 12-ing that occurs there. The chants, the coordinated claps, the high-fives from total strangers who become your best friends and family for a 60 minute duration. They are all so very real. Visitors from out of town are always amazed by how loud we can be. It’s like CenturyLink II. And whether its #BlueFriday or #VictoryMonday, wearing a Hawks shirt or hat or hoodie, as I am wont to do while working outdoors, elicits a random “Go Hawks!” or fist pump from a stranger. Hell, in 2017, someone even STOPPED me on the street after shouting in solidarity after a particularly dramatic Hawks win, to show me a video from the game as he had BEEN there the day before. In Seattle.
It’s a special thing, being a NYCHawk.
But I wonder, if maybe, I’m just a bit stupid for getting emotionally involved in sports. Like, what is my life worth that I get involved so intimately with the teams in my life…be it Rangers, or Mets, or Seahawks, even St John’s these days (which is mostly for my husband, who is a Johnnie). That all I do is get my hopes up and dashed with disappointment?
It’s different, being a disappointed football fan. You only get 16 times a year to have your highs and low, and potentially more if you are lucky enough to root for a team that makes the playoffs.
My heart is broke
But I have some glue
Help me inhale
And mend it with you
We’ll float around
And hang out on clouds
Then we’ll come down
And have a hangover, have a hangover
This year had highs and lows as is wont to happen in the context of a football season. Starting 0-2, nearly every “expert” lamented the death of the LOB, and eulogies were written for the PCJS Seattle Seahawks era. QPD. The “Dynasty that Never Was.” Yeah. I called bullshit.
Yet what was NOT said was that the team was shifting away from being a defense oriented team to building around the offense, mostly around the franchise quarterback, Russell Wilson. What on earth is wrong that THAT? I would get so frustrated watching him scramble around with virtually no protection from his offensive team. And let’s not go there that last year was a field goal here or extra point there from being a completely different ending.
So sure. Defense may “win championships,” as the old adage says. But you can’t win if you don’t score. You don’t score without offense. Or until you score. Or something.
I didn’t buy into the rebuild. But what I saw after a few games was a bit…disheartening. After the 0-2 start, they pulled themselves out of that hole. Yet I truly believe they could have won a lot more had they not played to the level of their competition each game. How many games were decided on a last second “walk off” field goal by Sebastian Janikowski? Or a close call loss against the LA teams (Rams and Chargers), that in my opinion could have easily gone the other way and been W’s in the column. Playing to the level of their competition made me feel as though the team believed in the rebuild. And that got me angry. It’s okay to play over your heads or to your full potential and win decisively. No really. It’s a thing, and it’s all right.
Rebuilds are not a bad thing, though. Acknowledge it, we’re adults, we can handle them. Ask me how I feel about a rebuild in Flushing. And I’m going through one now with my hockey team. Rebuilds can be fun too, especially seeing the results come to fruition. I never bought into the Seattle rebuild, though. This Seattle football team was meant to be a playoff team this year. What kills me is that they could have been MORE, instead of a one-and-done wild card team against a Cowboys team that quite frankly was not a superior team to the Seahawks. Cowboys won. Seahawks lost. And somewhere, Richard Sherman laughs. My hockey team sucks. It’s how many days till pitchers and catchers? It’s winter, and I’m fucking BORED with it already.
Skin the sun
The soul is cheap
Wish me luck
Soothe the burn
Wake me up
The fact that I can actually feel real feelings for a football team, which was unheard of not too long ago…that I can be disappointed when one of my teams underachieves or I can truly feel that in my heart….this is what is truly remarkable in my eyes.
Some days I want to give up sports for knitting.
And then I say, well that’s a dumb idea. So I put my jerseys away for another year. I go back to eating bad carbs and junk food during the Super Bowl. Maybe have a hangover the next day. Mostly, I’ll be happy because it means baseball is right around the corner.
News in this city
Breaks without pity
Long after the war has ended
We’re still in fatigues
— Jennifer Solomon (@mightyerf) February 2, 2015
I survived Cliff Floyd swinging away per Jerry Manuel’s suggestion. I survived a Mets collapse in 2007, and a denouement in 2008 (suffering PTMD aftereffects today). I had to face New Jersey Devils fans the day after losing a dramatic Game 6 overtime Eastern Conference Final. I had to face the world after the Rangers lost the Stanley Cup Final to the Los Angeles Kings the next day because I didn’t have a choice.
It’s different this time because I am not only relatively new to being a 12th man, I’m relatively new to the whole football experience. Despite having an allegiance to the Jets really since the 2000s (simply because my dad told me as much), I’ve never been so invested in something as rooting for a city that I loved, that in turn turned me into a football fan. It’s a part of my identity that I struggle with and alternatively makes perfect sense to me. It’s only fitting that while I wouldn’t trade being a Mets fan and Ranger fan for anything in the world, despite the agony they bring me most of the time. I was also born to be a Seahawks fan. I just didn’t know it till three years ago.
Until last night, the Super Bowl was just a way for me to watch commercials and an excuse to eat bad carbs and to hate on a team like the Patriots (which was only solidified last night) and the half time shows. When the game ended in the past, I would look forward that baseball season was literally right around the corner. I know, I have my hockey team, but as you all know by now, baseball is my first true love.
Last night, I paid attention to every single play.
And like watching Henrik Lundqvist crestfallen after losing to the Devils and Kings, like seeing Carlos Beltran’s face in the Mets dugout on the last play at Shea in 2008, I saw the faces of my adopted home city team. And I felt *it* all right.
I am a 12. For better or worse, I am a 12th Man. And there’s nothing I can do about it but accept it.
Don’t want to discuss it
I think it’s time for a change
You may get disgusted
And think I’m strange
In that case I’ll go underground
Get some heavy rest
Never have to worry
About what is worst and what is best
Oh oh Domino
There were several different angles I could’ve taken for this post. Had the Seahawks won last night, this post would’ve been called “The Hawking Dead.” The premise of it was my Seattle trip in November, which was borne from ironically my baseball fandom. I never had a chance to write about it, and I figured, it would be repetitive anyway.
Picture it: summer of 2014, Ed and I went to Seattle to follow the Mets. We had another mission: to get as much Seahawks merchandise as we could. When we tried to plan another baseball trip to Cincinnati, to see the Mets, we found the prices to be staggering. To go to OHIO. Driving wasn’t really an option. And I started joking that, oh hey, we can probably get cheaper airfare to Seattle in November for your birthday to see the Hawks.
I opened the travel websites. “OH LOOK HONEY! It IS cheaper!” Then the snowball got bigger and bigger, till finally we couldn’t ignore the fact that we didn’t just want to go back to Seattle, we wanted to see the Seahawks at home the year they were still Champions. The Cincy trip was scrapped till 2015. The Seattle trip was on.
The Hawking Dead was the working title because I had likened my turn to the Seahawks side as turning into a zombie, something I couldn’t control, something I didn’t think I wanted till I got it. Well, maybe being a walker isn’t something we want, but whatever. When I went to the game this time, it was natural. It felt right. We get off the light rail, and walk to the stadiums (Safeco Field is open with beer and food specials, and highlights from the “morning” games). Yet, we weren’t the only people. It was like a march, people doing their rituals, but everyone (save the few New York Giants fans, who also made the trip) was dressed in their Hawks gear and chanting and doing their gameday rituals.
My husband and I have some game day rituals too. Last year, the championship season, we made it a point when there was a nationally televised game, we’d order Domino’s. I know, it’s sacrilegious, living in New York City, but during the Super Bowl in 2013, I saw a Domino’s delivery guy in our lobby. I told Ed, “You know, I want their bread sticks.” Ed doesn’t eat pizza, but he likes their pasta bread bowls. That night, though, they had a modified menu, and he had to get chicken nuggets and plain bread sticks. Last year, they did away with their bread sticks, only cheesy bread. But the pasta bread bowl/cheesy bread thing worked for a good year.
This year, the juju stopped working. Against the Cowboys, we did our thing, and it didn’t work. So I said, we need to find something else, because it’s officially “weird.” He said, well, maybe we need to get something else instead of our “usual”. So I started to make my own pastas, and lo and behold, they were winning again. OF COURSE our game day ritual had something to do with it. And we even changed our bars for the non-televised games. We stopped going to a place we really loved and started going to, ironically, a Patriots bar, but they always had the Seahawks game on for us.
Going to the games, you can’t describe the feeling. If you’re not a football fan, and I will always maintain I never really cared for it, but I loved tailgating and live games, you can’t help but get caught up in the 12-ness of it all.
Not to mention, I love Seattle, can see all my favorite sights from the stadium, and love to take walks after the game. It’s not like you can do anything else. Try jam packing nearly 70,000 people in one area, and have them all go to the train at the same time! Just writing about it, I can visual it, and FEEL the area. I miss it right now. I really wish I was there right now.
We figured, maybe there was a glitch in the matrix, and that’s why they lost that game. Also, we did have to take into consideration that, well, our superstitions don’t mean jack, and they only make US feel better.
Till then, we kept the ritual. And on Super Bowl Sunday, we had breakfast at the same place we did last year, and I grabbed coffee with a friend like I did last year. Then we watched Law & Order: SVU until time for the pregame show.
Our rituals may give us comfort. But in reality, that’s the only thing. It’s a defense mechanism, just like my stupid hashtag, #GivingUpSportsForKnitting.
Because I was so invested in football this year, I started to muse if I wasn’t a sports fan, what would like be like? Instead of, “It’s A Wonderful Life, Coop,” it was more of a thinking that, I need a new hobby that’s less stressful. Like knitting.
— Tom Delgado (@RealTomDelgado) February 2, 2015
So by now, I’m sure most of you know the risky call that blew up in the Seahawks faces and literally caused them to lose the game. The narrative shifted from, the Seahawks are the real deal and Russell Wilson and Pete Carroll et al have built a dynasty and blah blah blah. Yet it’s all about Tom Brady and Bill Belichick and blah blah blah. I’ve always had an unhealthy hate for the Patriots. Now I have to hear about it from all their shit talking fans who don’t show up during the game and gloat only after they win.
By the same token, though, if the Seahawks use the Patriots “dynasty” as a model – in 13 years and winning four championships. I think most of us wouldn’t trade that for any of our teams.
— Unreal_MsDodgrblu (@msdodgrblu) February 2, 2015
Last night was different. Last year, Ed sat watching the game, even with a significant lead, late in the game, he wouldn’t let himself believe until the very last second. Last night, he was cool and collected. Me, I felt off. Even with a lead, I didn’t feel comfortable. So many things didn’t go the way of the team. And if you look at the rest of the game, you’ll realize that it’s not the last 30 seconds that made the game. Marshawn Lynch even said it was a team effort, and they win as a team, they lose as a team.
Even as a die hard Mets fan, I never blamed Tom Glavine for his shitty ass performance on the last day of 2007. It didn’t help, of course. Yet, when I look at the team performance in September, THAT was why they lost. It shouldn’t have come to that game. Last year, when the Rangers were in the Stanley Cup Final, they blew not one, not two, but THREE late leads that led to overtime wins for the Kings. THAT was the difference. Not that they lost game five. They were lucky there WAS a game five.
Instead, our Domino’s ritual became a punch line, since I threw a plate of breadsticks with hot sauce and blue cheese after the blown play, and well, I had some cleaning up to do. Thank goodness for Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. And paint. And strategically placed artwork.
Yes, I realize now it wasn’t just about the last minute of the game. Try rationalizing that while you’re watching.
I could never give up sports for knitting. I wouldn’t be able to keep it real with assholes like Shane Victorino (#BlameShaneVictorinosMothersUterus) or Cody Ross (you’re GARBAGE), and well, if I have one place to be an asshole fan, it’s CitiField.
“@ShaneVictorino: Tom Brady = Greatness 🏈🏈🏈” shove a brick up your ass sideways. Kthxbye
— The Coop (@Coopz22) February 2, 2015
As Mrs. Senor Solly said earlier, there she is. Or rather there I am. I’ve always been here. I’m not going away.
So MLB Network was on, and I got to hear familiar strains of my favorite season of all. Lo and behold, pitchers and catchers is right around the corner.
It’s 64 days till Opening Day, it will soon be spring, the Stanley Cup playoffs are right around the corner, and before we know it, we’ll be following the Seahawks to Baltimore for our first “road trip road trip” (since all our Seahawks games are road trips, technically, for us anyway).
I woke up this morning, and it was snowing. Perhaps it would’ve been more appropriate if it was raining. It rains every time we go to a sporting event in Seattle. But, rain also means change, it means growth, it means renewal.
Win or lose, last night, it was the end of a fun fuckin’ year for football. And it’s really the first time I’ve genuinely meant it.
In the great game of life, you win some, you lose some. Being a 12 is a lot more than rooting for the Seattle Seahawks. You have to genuinely understand the amount of pride this team brings to the city and the Pacific Northwest region. It’s a state of mind, maybe not unlike being a “walker,” but a conscious and very much alive walker.
Like many of the losses I’ve witnessed with my teams, it’s tough but you rationalize it. You accept it. It gets better. Well, it BETTER get better. The feeling can’t get much worse than what we all felt last night.
This team will be motivated and not let the loss get to their heads. They’ll learn from it, they’ll have a chip on their shoulder because of it. And hopefully, put the finishing touches on another winning year next year.
Till then, baseball and hockey will be a place holder. The celebratory champagne will wait in the fridge for another day. It’s okay to hurt. We’ll be up against these feelings throughout the years, it goes with the territory of being a fan.