In the dimly lit corners of the Seahawks field, there existed an enigmatic aura about Geno Smith, something ethereal that seemed to dance among the swaying fans and whispers through the play calls he would utter. Something ancient lingered in the air, a palpable sense of history woven into the very fabric of his playbook. It was as if the coaches themselves held secrets, something mystical and profound hidden within their gnarled on look and sprawling yells. In the heart of this mysterious realm of a stadium, where sunlight filtered through the dense canopy in dappled patterns, there stood a solitary figure, enraptured by the ineffable beauty of nature's embrace. Here, amidst the tranquil serenity of the refs standing nearby, something profound stirred within the depths of each players soul, awakening a sense of wonder and awe that transcended mere words.....
FUMBLE!