We just witnessed a little bit of history (OK it was a few weeks ago but I just got back from business travel).  Now in the context of memorable historic events and culturally defining moments, some could argue that I’m misguided, delusional, or high on my own supply.  After all, this IS Washington State.  The Seattle Seahawks claimed the honor of best football squad in the world by winning Super Bowl XLVIII.  We were fortunate enough to have had some of our closest friends and family over to enjoy that surreal moment.  We held our annual Super Bowl party but this one was a little more special than any other.

I’ve had a great amount of introspective thoughts this season.  The Seahawks are a part of me AND a part of all of us.  This entry is about a connection to the team that made us feel so good about the game, the city, and the possibility of “Why not us?”

It goes back over 30 years for me.  I owe every drop of thanks to my parents for fostering the passion and devotion to the Seahawks at a very young age in me.  They were in at the ground floor of the organization as season ticket holders for a span of three coaching regimes and over a dozen years; Jack Patera, Chuck Knox, and Tom Flores.  Those were some amazing and exciting years for me and mark the infancy of the passion for the Hawks.

Just a team; just a game; but so many fond memories.  Games back then were a special thing for me and my little brother.  We didn’t go to a lot.  Maybe a few games a season if we were lucky.  The tickets were for my mom and dad to get away from us.  My brother and I were dumped at our grandparents’ house; which wasn’t torture by any means.  We ate a lot of frozen pizzas and built Lego creations.  But those days at our grandparents’ house was nothing like the energy of the Kingdome when the Seahawks were playing another AFC West foe.  When we joined them at games, I remember it feeling like it was the longest drive in the world to get there, when in reality it was only 30 miles away.  But as a little kid, that pregame anxiety and excitement manifested itself into impatience.

Back then, we parked south of the Kingdome in a bumper to bumper parking lot and walked in with the masses only stopping to pick up a bag of peanuts and pepperoni sticks outside on Occidental Ave.  My dad was pretty stingy with his cash.  He said the Dome was a rip off and we’d get a better deal outside.  But inside, I was afforded a treat I’ve never forgotten.  Frozen chocolate malt.  Man, these were the absolute best.  Football and frozen malt was like peanut butter and jelly for me.  I was fortunate enough to have a birthday which fell on a day during football season which game time for me.  Usually it was the damn Raiders.  Those years there were the names Largent, Zorn, Krieg, and Doornink.  But there were guys like Raible, Easley, and Warner too.  All of these personalities were characters in a multiyear theater production of my childhood years. 

But in my teen age years things started to slow down a bit.  We attended Largent’s retirement party and it started to feel like the curtain was closing.  Discussing the NFL playoff bracket with my mom became a thing of the past.  Ken Behring bought the team and the energy dissipated, the emotional investment dried up, the organizational culture changed, and fans departed.  I graduated high school and my parents let the tickets go due to lack of interest in order to follow college football.

Years went by and the NBA consumed more of my time. Basketball was just more accessible.  But the love for the Seahawks never went away just stepped into the shadows.  That was until my wife and I moved in together in Long Beach.  Bars in the area and local SoCal television never showed the Hawks, only the damn Raiders.

We moved back to Washington and celebrated our first wedding anniversary.  The traditional gift for that anniversary was paper.  Being creative, I thought wouldn’t it be badass to buy Seahawks season tickets for an anniversary gift?  It was.  Nine football seasons later, we are devoted legacy ticket holders.  Every year, we try to share a game with our kids like my parents did. Things for us have seemingly come full circle. We now attend Sunday football.  Our children spend time with their grandparents just as I did when I was young.  Their passion is evident too.  Each wore their Nike jerseys every Blue Friday of the season and often several times a week. Maybe in an attempt to add the authenticity of stank to each jersey.

I said it earlier; this was a very special season for us and the entire Pacific Northwest.  Over the years, my wife and I endured some losing seasons and were thrilled by some epic victories.  Through all of the ups and downs, we always felt connected.  I think that’s what really makes this season so much more special.  It wasn’t about the competitiveness of the product on the field but rather the character and involvement of the team in the community.  Because of that, fans and casual members of the community began to embrace the humility of the team and their honesty immediately connected with the region.  We love these guys for who they are.

For us, we’ve found an extended family.  Those who own tickets around us in CenturyLink have become part of us.  We ride that emotional rollercoaster together.  I can’t imagine experiencing any given Sunday with anyone else but my wife and our family around us.  It was a huge motivating factor in launching an epic Super Bowl party this year.  During the season, I declared that if the Seahawks went to the Super Bowl I’d recreate our section of seats in my living room.  And I did just that.  But the party wasn’t about my trip to Home Depot Sunday morning for lumber and nails; it was about bringing our friends and family together for the making of something truly emotionally connective.  We wanted to recreate the energy and emotion of the game with them.  To feed off of each other as fans who are so passionate about their sports heroes.  Heroes who have lifted a region to the point of explosion of hope and belief.  Belief that hard work, devotion, transparency, preparation, and BELIEVING in yourself can make a difference.

I don’t think I could’ve asked for a better afternoon.  And while there was enough food and drink to feed the team, every party goer brought something more important than sustenance.  Each brought faith and friendship.  We wanted to be together to celebrate what was coming.  History to a well-deserved group of young men who believe and the connectivity of a community with a singular focus on one Sunday afternoon.  We danced, we celebrated, we hugged, and we cried together.  This victory was ours as much as theirs.

The next week with some special friends, we dared to travel to Seattle to enjoy the victory parade and the special celebration in the CLink only offered to season ticketholders.  The crowds and temperature had me contemplating turning around and heading home.  But this was one last time to share the electricity of the season and the connection to the team with our fan collective one last time.  We made it to the stadium on a train which should’ve never been on the rails given its payload.  People everywhere; we coordinated a meeting with our friends who brilliantly managed to avoid the morning travel debacle by posting up in a mobile mansion the night before.

Despite our efforts to procure an ample set of entry tickets, we were two short of a full load.  But the charm of my wife on the entry folks allowed both our families to enter and share in the excitement.  The stadium was frigid but the electricity was magical.  We sat for hours waiting for the celebration in the stadium to begin.  And when it did, our cold fingers, snot filled noses, and memories of the painstaking commute disappeared as fast as the 747-8 in Seahawks livery flew overhead.  One last time to cheer the organization and its players.  One last time to share a collective sigh of success and tears of joy over an absolutely satisfying and electrifying season.

There have been losing seasons (think Mariners 100 losses), shocking upsets (think Denver Nuggets vs. Sonics), and there have been disenchanted breakups (think Howard Schultz).  These are all just sports; just games.  And now, distant memories.  These Seahawks elevated a region by winning, but more importantly, believing in themselves.  That captured our hearts and made us love them that much deeper.  This was historic for the team and for us as fans.

I have so many memories from all of the games I’ve attended at my ripe age of 40.  But this season connected everything.  The Super Bowl win made me get introspective in that last quarter of play.  I really felt that “We Are 12” was more than noise at a stadium.  It’s me.  It’s you.  It’s our kids pretending to catch the winning touchdown from Russell or run a kickoff return back like Percy.  It’s the janitor in my office building wearing a Wilson jersey.  It’s $.12 coffees from local supporting business.  It’s the pride you have when you rise up knowing you can’t be stopped.  And most importantly, it’s a force inside knowing that all you need to do is believe in yourself.

As I’m crying my eyes out to complete this essay, I’m god damn thankful for my Mom and Dad, who introduced me to Seahawks football, my friends that share the passion for the game and believing and for the Seahawks for becoming the fabric of the community linking us to each other.  Our focus wasn’t aligned on just a team or just a game.  Hardly, it was a connection that gave us a chance to share yells, tears, broken records, and gave us a reason to not give a shit government shutdowns or budget crises. We never furloughed our intensity or devotion or belief, and neither did the Seahawks. We’re on top now and we did it together.  And why not?  Why not us?