Like San Diego earlier in the season, Dallas is putting the beat-down on the Seahawks. What makes this game different is that it is happening in Seattle. No team has dominated Seattle at home in the Russell Wilson era like the Cowboys did in the first half.
The Seahawks defense can't get off the field on third down. Seemingly every third down Romo is able to connect for big yardage by dumping the ball off to a running back. The Chargers were able to do the same thing. When the Seahawks get the ball on offense they can't generate first downs. So it is three and out and back on the field comes the tiring defense.
Just as the first-half blowout of the Seahawks by the Falcons in the 2012 playoffs led me to retrieve these old letters out of storage, I am driven again to them for a little solace.
Sadly, there is not much to be had in the letter below, which is an adulatory "thank you" note to my friend Greg for putting up with me on my extended Bay Area stay the Christmas '88/New Year '89 holiday season. He lined up work for me as a laborer on a construction site, work which enabled me to fly back home to my wife in New York City.
While I re-typed the old letter to Greg, the Cowboys turned the ball over two times and Seattle scored 10 points. So the Seahawks are back in the game. The fundamentals haven't changed though. Seattle can't move the ball consistently on offense while Dallas can. Seattle will be lucky to win this one.
Winter 1989
I have noticed now that every day it's getting more pronounced. I have adopted a certain Greg mannerism. It's not the sort of mannerism which is public, like an aspect of speech or something of that nature; it's a mannerism born of solitude, performed for oneself. The one I'm talking about is the one where the hand is placed roughly waist high so the arm is extended vertically but not fully vertical; you see, there is a slight bend in the elbow. But what makes this mannerism unique and unique to you Greg is the action of the hand itself, how the hand sits on that vertical arm. The hand is horizontal. The palm is placed flat, like it is pushing off the ground, but the only thing is that there's all this space between the down-placed palm and the floor. The other thing to be mentioned about this mannerism of yours, which is now also one of mine, is that the action isn't entirely up and down, you know, like, I guess, a mummy or Frankenstein thing. The edge of the hand comes into play. The edge of the hand leads, subtly but persuasively; there's kinda of a backhand grip. I have found myself doing this all of a sudden while I am here in NYC this week, which I guess is my home finally and irrevocably for the next few years. I'll be talking/mumbling something to myself, like how I've got to do this or read that, and the next thing I know I'11 be doing the Greg mannerism. It's a motion that settles me down, something that says, "Okay, let's reconnoiter here. Let's size everything up, and then we'll deal with it." I know I've seen you do this before, and I know I saw it performed a few years ago. What were we saying? Sumner of '87? Was that the summer in downtown Oakland? I know it's unique to you. And anyway, now I'm doing it, now for some reason, like it's a glow worm burrowing up my spine and into my brain, taking control.
The other thing I was thinking about on my way up to the corner store, tripping over the same crack in the same sidewalk in the same general vicinity of the Hudson (little shining fiberglass ice slivers on concrete), for these beers I've been drinking was how beautiful and happening and pleasant -- a real couple for the '90s -- you and Tresca were to hang out with, and this even though I must have been a sore-thumb imposition on a new and blossoming relationship. You guys were truly great, and I fully and completely appreciate it.
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