By Eric Wilson-Edge
I’ve given a lot of thought to why I care about the Seattle Seahawks. I’ve loved football since I was a kid. I never did play on a team, too short and skinny. I weighed exactly 49 pounds for most of my young life. Dad and I used to play catch. I liked to imagine I was Steve Largent diving after a ball.
I’m 34 now. I have a gut in training and about the same amount of muscle I did when I was seven. Playing football was never really a dream so there are no dashed hopes. Making those game winning grabs was always fantasy. I wanted to be a writer and have had the good fortune to become one.
So why do I still care about football and the Seahawks? When you think about it, watching them play is really just watching other people achieve. No amount of jumping or yelling makes any difference. I can offer my television advice but that doesn’t mean anyone hears it.
And I don’t think it matters. Football, especially Seahawks football, affords me a rare opportunity. I can let go the reigns of responsibility for awhile. I can do a stupid dance when Percy Harvin breaks a kickoff return for a touchdown and ends 30 plus years of misery. It’s cathartic, sports is one of the last unscripted dramas.
I get dressed in the dark. I don my Seahawks shirt, sweater and hat. Outside, the cold air makes the tips of my ears hurt. I’m meeting a friend and his son. We’re going to the parade. The Seahawks are Super Bowl champions.
I am severely undressed. The light rail is packed with people in different stages of commitment. Some wear capes, others face paint. A few have dyed their hair green. 12 Man flags hang idly only because there isn’t enough room to wave them around.
The train bumps along, everyone is quiet and excited. Suddenly, someone yells “SEA.” The car wakes from its stupor with a clamorous “HAWKS.” We throw the words back and forth for a few minutes then stop – then start again.
We pull into the station and a river of green and blue spills from the doors. It’s still early – roughly eight o’clock and yet thousands line the streets. We find a decent spot behind a section that’s been cordoned off with what looks like police tape. I talk to the woman who put it there, she came here at four.
The streets inflate. People fill every imaginable spot. I see them in trees, lamp posts and office windows. Cars honk down Fourth Avenue. Each new honk brings a fresh roar from the growing crowd. My hands are numb. I rotate them in shifts, left hand in, right hand takes pictures and vice versa.
Batman and the Riddler zoom past on roller skates. A man in front of me gets us all to chant “Mike” for a police officer who looks like Mike Holmgren. Parents prop their children up on their shoulders. A group of high schoolers toss around a football. Helicopters chop the air above our heads.
The first bus is full of friends and family. People climb out the hatch and walk across the top. The crowd freaks out, mostly because it’s awesome and not because they recognize the people. Steve Raible follows. John Schneider is teamed with Blitz. Pete Carroll and his wife motor by in something resembling a tank. Carroll leads everyone in another chant of “SEA-HAWKS.”
Marshawn Lynch is on the hood of a duck bus. He reaches into a giant bag of Skittles and chucks handfuls to honorary Beast Modes. Sound seems to ripple up the corridor as one bus leaves and another arrives.
Then the freakout. Russell Wilson holds the Lombardi Trophy up for all to see. The more religious among us reach to touch this Holy Grail but it’s too far. They seem content with photos and the knowledge that it’s actually here.
The Legion of Boom is last. Both sides of the street explode into cannon bursts of “L.O.B.” Richard Sherman laughs and seems almost giddy. This might be part of the reason I care about the Seahawks. This team is young, smart, brash and humble. They also seem to care about their fans. The relationship between this team and the 12 Man is unrivaled and perhaps unprecedented.
Or maybe it’s because 700,000 people came together under the same umbrella. We probably don’t have much in common outside of our love affair with the Hawks. And today, that is enough.
Find more parade photos here.
