Sunday Night's Seahawks Blow Out of the 49ers

Every day is a chore to make some meager meaning.  And often we are wrong, as I was in a previous post when I stated that being a fan is at best a break-even proposition.  Last Sunday night's Seahawk game was a rich surprise, an unexpected gift, particularly after San Francisco's drubbing of the Patriots in Foxboro the previous week.  I savored this Seahawk win for days.  Doug Baldwin's virile TD grabs.  Red Bryant's field goal block and Richard Sherman's return of it for paydirt.  Marshawn Lynch's power running and Russell Wilson's channeling of Fran Tarkenton.  To take my mind off a migraine during a delayed flight home yesterday I contemplated the play calling of Darrell Bevell: his use of the tight ends; how he incorporates everyone into the game plan.  Brilliant.

This isn't the first time that I've savored Sunday Seahawk victories.  Walking home along 12th Avenue I have replayed in my mind the Russell Wilson long bomb to Sidney Rice that stunned the Patriots in Week 6 and the read-option overtime demolition of Urlacher's Bear defense at Soldier Field in Week 13.  Those two games alone have put me in surplus for the season.  And now that Seattle is in the playoffs, regardless of whether we end up division champs or a wild card entrant, I am far past the break-even point.  Anything is possible for this team, even a super bowl victory. 

Thank you Richard Sherman.  Thank you Kam Chancellor.  Thank you Doug Baldwin.  Thank you Sidney Rice.  Thank you Golden Tate.  Thank you Russell Wilson.  Thank you Marshawn Lynch.  Thank you for this feeling of bounty, this loss of self.  What does one call it?  Don't we call it love?

Great thanks to my coworker and union sister who attended last Sunday's Seahawk-49er game and provided the photos.  (Note the urinating 'Hawk tailgaters.)