I remember when I was, oh, perhaps 8 or so, I was thumbing through the Sears catalog when I came upon my favorite section. The NFL. I remember staring at all the cool helmets you could purchase. At the time my favorite team was the Vikings. I had an Ahmad Rashad jersey I was very proud of. Loved the purple colors and the Nike-looking logo.
And suddenly I noticed this new helmet in the collection. Silver with a blue and green logo that resembled some kind of bird.
Sold.
In that moment I became a diehard. I was all of 20 miles southeast of the Kingdome as it was being built living in Kent, Washington. Being so young I don't recall all the nuances, ups and downs of the team's initial years. I DO remember Zorn and Largent quite clearly as you might expect. As I grew up I watched some amazing Seahawks teams in the 80's. Jacob Green, Easley, Warner, my goodness the list could go on and on.
I don't recall hearing the derogatory term "Sea Chickens" until I was in my mid teens. At first, I just thought it was weird. A casual shrug of the shoulders and I moved on. Within a few years it became a more ubiquitous term that would make me cringe and want to throat punch the person (and I wasn't a violent kid).
As the years pilled on, I became entrenched in the familiar feeling as a diehard that not all goes to plan as you would like. The 1980s had their moments as did I. My first car was a 1967 Mustang with a 289 V8 automatic. My waistline was 1/3 of what it is today.
Did I mention I had a full head of hair?
As the 80's regrettably rolled into the 90's I watched my beloved Seahawks turn into a joke. In 1992 they managed no more than 2 wins despite fielding one of the finest defensive players (who won MVP that year) the league has ever seen. And if you have to guess who that player is, clearly you are not a diehard, thank you for playing, here's your door prize, don't let the good lord hit ya where the good lord split ya.
With the horror show of the 90s, a fat bald dude named Behring trying to move the team to LA, it seemed my life was ruined. We all know the rest. Saint Paul Allen bought the team and made the team what it is to this day.
I became a season ticket holder in 1997. I was blessed to watch a few seasons in that concrete contraption until it imploded on an early spring day.
In that time, you and I have witnessed greatness. A plethora of playoffs. The loudest stadium in the entire NFL. Moments of glory. Nirvana, even.
We have witnessed so much. Now we sit on the precipice of greatness once again. You and I can feel it like we did in 2012 when the upstart Seahawks were a year away from a Championship. Without predicting, it sure feels like this 2023 team shares a similar trajectory.
So here we go. Again. (I believe that is a Whitesnake lyric)...
Buckle up my peeps. You just may bare witness to a second Lombardi within a few years and isn't that grand?
Thank you Paul. Thank you Pete. Thank you John. Thank you Jody.
LET'S GO!!!!!!
And suddenly I noticed this new helmet in the collection. Silver with a blue and green logo that resembled some kind of bird.
Sold.
In that moment I became a diehard. I was all of 20 miles southeast of the Kingdome as it was being built living in Kent, Washington. Being so young I don't recall all the nuances, ups and downs of the team's initial years. I DO remember Zorn and Largent quite clearly as you might expect. As I grew up I watched some amazing Seahawks teams in the 80's. Jacob Green, Easley, Warner, my goodness the list could go on and on.
I don't recall hearing the derogatory term "Sea Chickens" until I was in my mid teens. At first, I just thought it was weird. A casual shrug of the shoulders and I moved on. Within a few years it became a more ubiquitous term that would make me cringe and want to throat punch the person (and I wasn't a violent kid).
As the years pilled on, I became entrenched in the familiar feeling as a diehard that not all goes to plan as you would like. The 1980s had their moments as did I. My first car was a 1967 Mustang with a 289 V8 automatic. My waistline was 1/3 of what it is today.
Did I mention I had a full head of hair?
As the 80's regrettably rolled into the 90's I watched my beloved Seahawks turn into a joke. In 1992 they managed no more than 2 wins despite fielding one of the finest defensive players (who won MVP that year) the league has ever seen. And if you have to guess who that player is, clearly you are not a diehard, thank you for playing, here's your door prize, don't let the good lord hit ya where the good lord split ya.
With the horror show of the 90s, a fat bald dude named Behring trying to move the team to LA, it seemed my life was ruined. We all know the rest. Saint Paul Allen bought the team and made the team what it is to this day.
I became a season ticket holder in 1997. I was blessed to watch a few seasons in that concrete contraption until it imploded on an early spring day.
In that time, you and I have witnessed greatness. A plethora of playoffs. The loudest stadium in the entire NFL. Moments of glory. Nirvana, even.
We have witnessed so much. Now we sit on the precipice of greatness once again. You and I can feel it like we did in 2012 when the upstart Seahawks were a year away from a Championship. Without predicting, it sure feels like this 2023 team shares a similar trajectory.
So here we go. Again. (I believe that is a Whitesnake lyric)...
Buckle up my peeps. You just may bare witness to a second Lombardi within a few years and isn't that grand?
Thank you Paul. Thank you Pete. Thank you John. Thank you Jody.
LET'S GO!!!!!!
