NFL Week Six: The Seahawks Dethroned

Tonight NFL Week Seven gets underway with a Jets-Patriots match-up in Foxborough. Belichik's Patriots are the closest thing to a machine in the NFL. The last several seasons though, since their Super Bowl XLVI defeat by the Giants, New England has looked all too human.

Nonetheless, Belichik, though I have loathed his teams for decades, is hard to bet against. He knows how to win, and his Patriots, led by the aging "teen idol" Tom Brady, are always atop the AFC East. A couple Sundays back I caught the first half of the evening game against the undefeated Bengals. Brady led the Patriots offense with ruthless precision.

The Rex Ryan Jets are another story. Once endowed with the league's most formidable defense, the Jets at 1-5 are a team adrift. Ryan probably should have been fired at the end of last season. Maybe tonight New York will surprise us, but that is most unlikely. The Patriots at home have proven to be almost unbeatable in the regular season.

Now that these Thursday night games are available on broadcast television, I must say that I look forward to them; it is something akin to the tradition of the Thursday night party that fraternities put on while I was at the university. Though I was never a member of a frat, their Thursday night parties had a spillover effect for everyone else on campus -- a bridge to the weekend, a way to chop down the five-day work week.

But the Thursday night game is not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about the humiliating defeat suffered by the Super Bowl XLVIII Champion Seattle Seahawks by Dallas.

I tossed and turned all night long this past Sunday. I awoke every 90 minutes. The most searing episode was around 2 AM when I jolted up muttering to myself about the offense.

While it is true that the defense was manhandled by the Cowboys, if the Seahawks had mustered one or two sustained drives, I think the outcome would have been different. The planned and hoped for (by the Carroll brain trust) transformation of the offense this year from a power-rushing attack to a West Coast style passing attack has, after five games, been a bust. It's time to either return to Beast Mode or start heaving bombs down the field to Harvin and Richardson.

I've compared these weekly posts on the NFL to a dream journal, a brief mostly colorless record of my bachelor Sunday waking dream life, lying on my mattress on the floor in front of a 13-inch color TV, absorbing the various telecasts from 10 AM to the end of the Sunday night game on NBC. Well, the Cowboys-Seahawks Week Six game was a nightmare. Prompting the question, Why am I so attached to this team? Sure, they are Super Bowl Champions. But the Holmgren Seahawks were almost Super Bowl Champions -- and I loathed that team.

It has something to do with the composition of the squad. The fact that the Seahawks marquee players are all black, young and appealing (to me at least) has a lot to do with it. Even though a Richard Sherman and a Marshawn Lynch are extremely wealthy by working-class standards, they strike me as representative of the rest of us struggling on the front lines of the rat race with our degraded lives at work.

The reverse image of the National Football League is the repetitious, "trial by ordeal," soul crunching, 50 out of 52 weeks a year American way of earning a living where no respect is given and any dignity we manage to display we do on our own dime.

But the home team offers an idealized space where we are young, strong, fast and potent. Every Sunday we are allowed to transfer our identity out of our mundane, hopeless lot to a collective consciousness of positive actualization.

Until, of course, a beat down like last Sunday happens. Then one's world is turned upside down. The order of the mundane soulless routine is cast asunder. I began to question my attachment -- and how attachment defines identity.

To make matters worse, on the train ride to work Monday morning, a bevy of Cowboys fans, wearing their team jerseys and sporting Lone Star paraphernalia, crowed and boasted of their dominance on their way to the airport.

One guy, a black guy from Baton Rouge sporting a Dez Bryant jersey, traveling with his young son and demure wife, was particularly boorish. Talking at the top of his voice for 45 minutes, he relived the entire game, belittling the Seahawks -- "There's no way they're going back to the Super Bowl. No way. They're done." -- celebrating the dominance of his Cowboys. A young white couple with big dark blue Lone Stars on their chests nodded and cackled in agreement at every dull pearl the Baton Rouge Dez Bryant uttered.

I gritted my teeth and tried to read the newspaper. It was painful, but I held my tongue. Then when the train pulled into its last stop at the airport station I couldn't resist one parting comment. "Well, for your sake, I hope you can keep DeMarco Murray healthy."

The young white couple politely responded, "Oh, yes."

But Dez Bryant, with a foul look smeared on his face, didn't say a word. He knows the truth. The truth is that DeMarco Murray has been injured each of the last two seasons, missing a significant amount of time. When that happens the Cowboys become one-dimensional with Romo throwing the ball non-stop. They don't win that way.

Murray already has 130 carries after 5 games. Chances are good given past history that he will sustain another injury. I don't wish that upon DeMarco Murray. He is an excellent running back and seems like a good young man. But Dez Bryant from Baton Rouge should be a little more discrete on a commuter train in Seattle. Dallas has not won the Super Bowl yet.

As for the defending Super Bowl Champion Seattle Seahawks, things do not look good. Injuries on defense and an offense that cannot establish a rhythm (and haven't been able to all season minus the home opener against Green Bay) portend a brutal, painful year ahead.

I've been down this road before with the defending Super Bowl Champion San Francisco 49ers during the 1985 regular season. That season changed my life. I became an alcoholic. I dropped out of the university for a semester. The 1985 49ers showed true grit just to make it to the playoffs as a wild card.

We'll see what the Seahawks are made of -- if they have the toughness of those '85 49ers. Sunday in St. Louis will be a good indication. The Rams are a dangerous team despite their poor record. St. Louis was up early at home against Dallas and San Francisco. Both the Cowboys and the 49ers were able to come back. But the Seahawks so far have not shown an offense that can mount a comeback.

In a nutshell, NFL Sunday Week 7 will point the way to whether Seattle makes the playoffs. A loss to the Rams means that the Seahawks will not repeat as Super Bowl Champions.

Seattle Seahawks Parade

Who doesn't love a parade? After today's Seahawks Super Bowl celebration down Fourth Avenue it is hard to say that I love a parade. I'm glad I went and showed my love and appreciation for the team. When I got home I promptly checked Google Weather; at 1 PM it said 31°F. With the windchill, standing out of the sunshine, it felt like the low 20s. I was wearing cloth gloves, but I was starting to lose sensation in both hands. My throat was hoarse from the cold and hooting and whooping it up for the players, who I had difficulty making out from where I stood on Blanchard, a good 20 yards off Fourth Avenue. I recognized Russell Wilson and Richard Sherman and Kam Chancellor (I think). The players were transported in big construction trucks or troop personnel carriers, I couldn't tell which; the coaching staff and front office executives and Sea Gals and also some players were conveyed by Duck -- amphibious tourist vehicles. I suspected Marshawn Lynch was on the hood of the Duck carrying the Sea Gals, and I cheered accordingly; but I wasn't sure until reading the AP story just now.

I burned a vacation day to attend the parade. My thirty-year-old coworker browbeat me into doing it. She said it would an all-time historic event and that I would hate myself if I didn't go. I acknowledged that she was undoubtedly correct, but still held off turning in a time-off request. I must have been operating on some deeper knowledge gleaned from five decades of plodding the Earth's surface among my fellow man. Deep down I had the foreknowledge that hours spent outdoors with large groups of screaming people in freezing weather does not for a good time make.

But I succumbed to her entreaties and put in for and got the day off on short notice. We tentatively planned to meet on the steps of city hall. She said that she was going to get there early, before 10 AM, with her two sons. I told her that I would try to hook up with them; but given the large number of people likely to have the same plans, I told her chances were we wouldn't see each other.

And sure enough we didn't. Walking down from Capitol Hill at 10 AM there were only a few fans at first. But once I got to Olive and Denny the trickle became a throng. By the time I reached the intersection of Boren and Pine, the dividing line between downtown and Capitol Hill, the throng was a solid mass of Seahawks supporters. It reminded me of the first morning of Seattle WTO. (Crossing Boren on Pine east of Paramount Theater on my way downtown that's when I knew that the WTO protests were going to be a big deal. Pine was locked down with protesters. A young person was perched atop a large teepee-like tripod structure.)

On the way down to Fourth Avenue I talked to a woman who had given her office the day off. She said that she was fair-weather fan; that, like me, she had been cajoled into attending because of the historic nature of the event. She said that she couldn't get cell service on her phone. Too many people overloading the circuits.

I said goodbye at Sixth Avenue and scooted up the hill. I worked my way south until I got to city hall where, as I have mentioned, I could not locate my coworker and her two boys. I then settled in next to a black family -- I prefer the company of black people to whites; black people are generally kinder and more open -- and prepared to wait in a good spot in the sun that had fine sight lines to the street.

After a half-hour of standing in the same spot, I decided to take off and work my way back up the parade route to its origin. This way, I'd be closer to the action once the parade got started and I could hightail it home quicker and thereby enjoy some of my vacation day in rest and relaxation

For the next 45 minutes I struggled through the mass of humanity on Fourth Avenue. I noticed several different parents with small children, younger than five years of age, struggling mightily to keep it together. It was too cold to be outdoors any length of time with children that young.

Bottlenecks developed on the sidewalk. Several spots were impassable. A different trail had to be blazed. Finally, tired of the crush and pushing against people who were in various stages of upset, I left Fourth Avenue and started moving via the alley between Fourth and Fifth. There, more of a Mardi Gras atmosphere dominated. A young guy had scaled a fire escape, people were smoking blunts, the thumping dance music from Westlake Mall could be heard.

After trying and then giving up on accessing Fourth Avenue from Westlake Mall, I walked north up Fifth Avenue. Finally, based on the location of a helicopter hovering high above in the same spot for a long time, I decided to position myself on Blanchard Street and wait. I was in a small pool of sunshine that made me feel a bit warmer.

At first several motor coaches with tinted windows rolled past. I joked with a woman next to me, "You think that's it?" Then Pete Carroll rolled passed in the back of a truck, and I let out a cheer. The players followed. It was all over quickly. The folks closest to Fourth immediately started a bums rush east up Blanchard. Everyone was bitterly cold and wanted to get off the street as soon as possible.

The police estimate of the crowd currently being reported is 700,000. I can't say if that's accurate. There were a lot of people. The most popular jerseys were Marshawn Lynch's number 24 and Russell Wilson's number 3; then Richard Sherman's number 25 and Earl Thomas' number 29. There was a lot of the 12th Man number 12; some Kam Chancellor number 31 and Percy Harvin number 11. I did see a couple of Bobby Wagner's number 54 and Bruce Irvin's number 51, also Golden Tate's number 81 (but only one Doug Baldwin number 89).

In any event, more people turned out for this football team than would ever show up for a politician. Our heroes are professional athletes. No question about it. It has something to do with honesty. People trust the effort of these football players. That is why Marshawn Lynch's "Beast Mode" is so enormously popular. In this age when the super-rich rule seemingly every aspect of life and deceit is the coin of the realm, a tackle-breaking run by Marshawn Lynch personifies our aspirations. I love Marshawn Lynch.

So let us -- aging men tucked in Seahawks gear next to women wagging ass in tight pants -- mark the championship moment. Because -- look! -- it has already passed.

One Last Thought on the Super Bowl

The speed with which the Seahawks defense -- Kam Chancellor! -- closed on the Broncos was remarkable. Manning would complete a pass and immediately there be three Seahawks defenders battering the Broncos receivers with big hits. Case in point is that wide receiver screen to Demaryius Thomas that Manning loves to run. It was immediately blown up by the Seahawks time after time. To be honest, Wes Welker looked physically intimidated. And Eric Decker and Julius Thomas never even figured into the game.

This Seahawks defense, after the show they put on last night, has to be ranked up there with Buddy Ryan's 1985 Chicago Bears.

Seattle Seahawks

The spring of 2002 I broke up with my live-in girlfriend of 11 years and moved into the studio apartment where I reside to this day. At the end of my first summer here the woman I was dating at the time sort of insisted that I get a television. I had not owned a TV in ten years. To keep her happy, I dutifully complied with the request and promptly went out and bought a 13-inch color Magnavox with a built-in VHS player. And for the next year and a half that is all we used it for -- to watch videos. Then a young guy I knew from the local Green Party invited me over to watch the Patriots-Panthers Super Bowl (February 1, 2004 in Houston, famous for the Justin Timberlake-Janet Jackson halftime show "wardrobe malfunction"). It was a good game. I caught the bug again.

I went out and bought an antennae for my 13-inch Magnavox so I could watch National Football League games, which I have been doing religiously since the 2004 regular season. In these ten years I have probably seen every Seahawks game (minus the preseason ones).

I loathed the Matt Hasselbeck Seahawks. Every Sunday I would root against them. My dislike for the team was influenced by the hardball stadium politics played by owner Paul Allen after he bought the Seahawks from Ken Behring who had unsuccessfully attempted to relocate the club to Anaheim. Though head coach Mike Holmgren had a 49ers pedigree, and I was formerly devoted Montana-era San Francisco fan, I didn't like him. He seemed like a seething bully.

A few years after the Seahawks lost to the Steelers in Super Bowl XL, the franchise was in freefall. Holmgren was gone after a lame duck 2008 season, leaving the team to the uninspired leadership of Jim Mora.  Mora went 5-11 and was fired with three years and $12 million left on his contract. He was that bad. Pete Carroll, escaping from mushrooming scandal at USC, was brought in for the 2010 season.

But it wasn't the addition of Carroll that turned me from a Seahawks hater into a stalwart fan; it was the acquisition of Marshawn Lynch from the Buffalo Bills in October of Carroll's first season. Lynch more than any other player transmogrified the Seahawks from the Holmgren-Hasselbeck team of whiny, brittle privilege into a tough, no-bullshit ball club.

I could go on here about all the other necessary components, first and foremost of which is the fast, big defense, followed close by the smart, "just win, baby" play of quarterback Russell Wilson. This is a great young team, the youngest, along with the '71 Dolphins, to win a Super Bowl.

But let's cut it short with some video of Marshawn Lynch dancing by himself in the locker room after Seattle's first Super Bowl win. Click on the link.

NFL Week 22: Super Bowl XLVIII

The official wisdom as conveyed by Bleacher Report has Denver beating Seattle in this Sunday's Super Bowl by a score of 31 to 23. The betting line is Denver minus three, which means that the line has moved a half-point away from Seattle since it was first announced following the dramatic Seahawks victory over the 49ers in the NFC Championship.

The thinking is that in a contest that features the best defense (Seahawks) against the best offense (Broncos) the game will come down to how well the Seattle offense does against the Denver defense. I think this is the right way to look at it. But where the analysts at Bleacher Report think that the Broncos defensive line led by Terrance Knighton will be up to the task of shutting down Marshawn Lynch, I foresee that the Golden Bear running back who got his NFL start playing in frigid Buffalo will find some holes and crack off some good runs. Lynch will have a pair of fresh, powerful legs from two weeks between games. As a fellow working man who I spoke with in the Starbucks queue this morning said, "If Marshawn Lynch gets 100 yards, we win." I agree.

The argument against this is that Denver has already in the playoffs shut down prodigious ground games of San Diego and New England. But I would argue that the Chargers were without the services of their premiere tailback Ryan Mathews (he ran the ball only a few times in the first half before going to the sidelines with a bad ankle), while the Patriots gave up on using LeGarrette Blount before the second quarter was finished. This will not be the case in East Rutherford on Sunday. The additional wrinkle that the Denver defense will have to account for is a quarterback, Russell Wilson, who can run. Darell Bevell will undoubtedly script some quarterback runs in his offensive game plan. Percy Harvin  is another X-factor in Seattle's favor.

Finally, there is the ultimate X-factor that favors Seattle: Turnovers. The Seahawks defense, whether through strip-sacks or picks, consistently generates turnovers. Peyton Manning throws a lot of balls. Seattle will force turnovers and their defense very well may even put points on the board. This, combined with a Seahawks offense potent enough to keep Manning on the sidelines for clock-chewing chunks of time, leads me to advise you to take the Seahawks as the next Super Bowl Champions!