The Agony of Defeat
Hungover and depressed, I trudged down to Qwest Field for the 2 pm post-Super Bowl rally/wake, during which I learned:
That the Seahawks have a band perched high above the stadium called “Blue Thunderā€¯—presumably in reference to the team’s color, and not the abysmal Roy Scheider movie from 1983.
That I am an often oblivious idiot for not knowing the Seahawks a) had a band, and b) said band had a name—especially since I’ve watched just about every damn game the past 20 years.
That Governor Christine Gregoire’s voice trembles like she’s a 7th grader in the National Spelling Bee. Maybe the audible boos from the crowd as she took the podium caused her confidence to falter?
That day after Super Bowl t-shirts have a going rate on the street of a paltry $5.
That you have to respect former NFL receiver/local TV talking head/Seahawk play-by-play man Steve Raible’s long-standing commitment to the moustache.
That despite the loss, seeing a couple thousand fans waving “12th Manā€¯ flags in support of their team is mighty impressive. (And that on a related note, Texas A&M can suck it.)
That we really must come up with a better name for our cheerleaders than the “Sea Gals.ā€¯
That by the looks on their faces, not the mention the brevity of their speeches, the Seahawk players aren’t too thrilled about the whole post-loss rally thing.
That local fans are a tad pissed over the officiating of yesterday’s game. Case in point: the sign that read “We Were Cheated!ā€¯ Another case in point: the sign that read “Refs 21, Hawks 10!ā€¯ Final case in point: Coach Mike Holmgren saying, “You know, we knew it was going to be tough playing Pittsburgh. We didn’t know we’d have to play the officials as well.ā€¯
That despite the good intentioned/supportive community/rah-rah nature of the post-loss rally, cheering on and congratulating your team for a year well done in no way begins to fill that massive pit in your stomach left after your team horked it in the world’s biggest game, especially when just getting to that game was a 30-year struggle for both the team and its city, and especially when your Super Bowl viewing left you hungover, bitter, and close to vomiting for the bulk of the day with nothing to show for it besides an order from your editor to drag your ass down to Qwest Field to slog about the rally, and a free “12th Man” flag—both of which offer little comfort to your bruised body and soul.
Still, there’s always next year…GO HAWKS!
To get the ball fumbling, here is my uber lame suggestion that the cheerleading Sea Gals be renamed the Sea-Cups.