Third time's a charm

Despite a hard-luck loss in St. Louis, there was still hope yet for our beloved Seattle Seahawks.  Sure, there were people jumping off the bandwagon by the nano second, but maybe that wasn't the worst thing at this point in time.  This wasn't the time for finger pointing, placing blame, or making excuses.  This was a time to discover the type of grit, perseverance, and resiliency that lie inside the team and it's fans alike.  As the media spun it's rumors to generate clicks and revenue, rather than actually work and report, the team simply went back to work.  As the team attempted to return to their core beliefs, I decided to try and do the same.

Part of what made the journey of last season so great was the way it started.  My lady and I made a 12 hour trek, both ways, from Chinatown to Charlotte.  It wasn't comfortable, it's a pretty dreary experience in fact, but we had each other and we were alright.  It was very similar to how the Seahawks/Panthers game played out as well.  It wasn't pretty, but it was a gritty performance in a tough environment and it was a dreaded 10 AM start as well.  The sun was beating down on us from above, and I'm sure the players on the field must have been absolutely gassed.  Still, they prevailed, and it helped spark the greatest season in team history.

Not only was the journey interesting, but the people we met and got to spend time with were as well.  The night before the game, Seahawks fans united at a bar downtown and absolutely packed the place full of college navy and action green.  It was then that I knew that the 12th Man was going to be a force to be reckoned with the entire season.  The passion, the energy, the generosity, and that feeling of family were on full display.  Those feelings, those emotions, would last all season and made the Seahawks first championship run even more amazing to witness.  While those feelings hadn't vanished entirely so far this season, they were definitely slightly more subdued.

I wanted to recapture those feelings, reconnect with that energy and commitment.  If I was being honest with myself, I wasn't grinding it out either.  I didn't have a job for a while, wasn't visiting my family enough or spending enough time with my girlfriend, and had fallen in a little bit of a hole.  I had rested on my laurels and this is where it had gotten me.  Much like the team though at 3-3, it wasn't something I couldn't dig myself out of.  And despite the loss the week prior in St. Louis, things appeared to be on the upswing.

Now wasn't the time for self-doubt.  It was time to work harder than I had ever in my life before, and continue to keep grinding it out with the hope and belief that good things would happen.  Not only do you have to believe in something in life in order to achieve or attain it, but you have to work hard at it as well. You have to earn it.  You have to earn everything.  That was the major lesson I took away from 2013.  Now was the time to start applying it to life's newest challenges.

What better way to get back at it, then by retracing the footsteps of previous success.  I ordered my bus tickets as soon as I could afford them, with the feeling that last season's great run of luck started with a bus ride to Charlotte.  The ride wouldn't be pretty, but it didn't need to be, it just had to get me there.   I had been through it before and I knew that I was up to the task to handle it, especially after a 22 hour bus ride to St. Louis the week prior.  The only difference this year was that Laura wouldn't be able to attend.  It wouldn't be easy without her, but no one ever said that repeating would be easy.

The work week at the pickle stand, which I'm grateful just to even have at this point, breezed by and before I knew it, it was time to get on that Chinatown bus.  I had seen my mother and my sister earlier in the week and I even got to spend some time with Laura before making the trip south.  I was feeling good about getting back to the basics and the core beliefs that made my who I am.  Despite the ominous mural with a burning bas directly behind me, I boarded that bus with no fear.  A 12 hour bus ride is grueling for sure, but I could already see the light at the end of the tunnel.  That light, was a Seahawks victory and the first step in getting things back on track in 2014.

I couldn't sleep at all during the overnight bus ride, not for the lack of trying, but because the woman next to me has fallen asleep on me with her elbow digging into my ribcage.  She's out like a lamp though, like a jobber after a 'Million Dollar Dream' from Ted DiBiase.  Luckily, I've got my Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and Outkast tunes cranking, as I further attempted to recommit to my roots.  A lot of thoughts tend to run through your head when you're awake and uncomfortable for 12 hours on a bus where you can only hope that your driver got enough sleep the night before.  Which each wild turn, or with each bump that sends the bus slightly off the ground, you start to think about the things that are truly important, to you and in life in general.

After hours of contemplating the past and attempting to prepare for the future, my feet finally touched land in Charlotte.  Those feet have a slight alteration from earlier in the season.  Gone were the new blue wing-tipped shoes with lime green laces, and back in their rightful place were the "Beast Modes" that I had worn to every game the year before.  Much like Darrell Bevell and the rest of the Seahawks, I knew that it was time to feed the beast and rediscover the man who had helped get me to the promised land, quite literally in both cases.  Like Marshawn himself, the 24's still look smooth, sharp, and unique but with a little bit of mileage on them.  They've both been through it all, gone through the mud, been to hell and back and come out the warrior champions that they are.

It was all the southern comfort that I would need on this trip to the not so dirty South.  Charlotte's a very clean city, and even on the outskirts of town where the bus had dropped me off, locals were friendly and said hello despite the fact that I was draped in Seahawks gear.  After wandering around a few stores and a giant parking lot in search of a restroom, a car pulled up to my left.  It was Melissa and Steve, my partners in crime for the day.  Melissa grew up with Laura and has remained close ever since.  After staying with them last year and having a great time, as well as the 'Hawks pulling out the win, I knew that they had to be there to witness it again.

After saying our hello's and taking a minute to catch up, we head to the Southeastern Seahawkers tailgate in the parking lot of Draught Bar & Grill.  It's almost 9:30, but there is still a decent crowd of Seahawks fans who apparently have been there since 8!  Now this was the type of energy, commitment, and passion that was so prevalent last year.  It was a total night and day difference from the crowd at CenturyLink for the Cowboys game, where fans sat on their hands and couldn't be bothered to get up and make noise until it was 3rd down or worse, when it was too late.  Encouraged by the turnout, I began having some flashbacks of September 8th, 2013, the date the Seahawks kickstarted their Super Bowl run with a display of toughness and tenacity that was able to take down the Panthers, as well as the blistering sun.

I've got to hand it to the Southeastern Seahawkers, because they threw an excellent tailgate.  There was a food truck serving pizza, burgers, and other delicious fuel for the day.  The truck even had beer taps built in to it for easy access beer for the masses.  All of this was done by them, basically for free, since the $10 suggested donation went straight to charity anyway.  There's a legendary line from the movie 'Field of Dreams' with Kevin Costner, "if you build it, he will come."  These selfless heroes built it, and the 12th Man did not disappoint, they showed up in droves.  What started as a gathering of a few Seahawks fans had now turned into a full-on Seahawks pregame party.  12 flags are everywhere, and there's a guy with a Russell Wilson head cutout patrolling the area.

With spirits and morale high, Melissa, Steve, and I continue to make our way through the crowd to mingle with other Seahawks fans.  One of the things I love about these road game tailgates over the past 2 seasons now, is that many times the player's family members will frequent these events to.  I rarely approach them or talk to them at too much length out of respect for them and their families, but I just like that they feel comfortable enough around other Seahawks fans to attend, as well as that they have pride in the team and wearing the colors.  Despite usually leaving them to themselves, I couldn't help but strike up a conversation with Jermaine Kearse's grandmother.  After meeting her, I have no choice but to root for Jermaine to end up as one of the greatest Seahawks receivers of all-time.

She goes into detail about Jermaine as a child, and how his father handed him a football before Jermaine was even big enough to carry it.  His father continued to push him to try his hardest, and over the years, Jermaine's love for the game that his father taught him continued to grow.  Sadly, Jermaine's father passed away seven years ago.  It was then that Jermaine told himself that he would always play to make his father proud.  I tell her that I love the fact that Jermaine's a local hero that's now getting to live out his dreams in front of his family and friends on his hometown team.  I admire the fact that he was an undrafted free agent, and that he had to stick on the practice squad for a while before finally emerging onto the scene last year.  She makes sure to remind me that none of it would have been possible without Pete Carroll giving her grandson a chance.  We say our goodbyes, and I let her know that there's a repeat in the making, and that the perseverance these young men are displaying, including her grandson, will be rewarded with another championship.

I'm back with my original crew now, and as soon as Steve mentions the name PredatorHawk, there he is in full gear!  You can tell that he's pumped and excited for this game.  He's been kickin' it with some Panthers fans at their nearby tailgate, and even gets all of them to sign a shirt that he bought to support their group.  Bob's a standup guy like that and part of what makes him such a great ambassador of the Seahawks and Seahawks fans.  I look over for a second and can't believe me eyes!  There stands Ian Robert Smith, all the way from across the pond in England!  I go over and say hello, and he absolutely makes sure to remind me that the Argentines helped his beloved Manchester City win it all last season in the English Premier League.  Ian and I had spoken at the tailgate last year, and when he mentioned that he was a Manchester City fan, I let him know that I am half Argentine.  He had mentioned that he thought Aguero, Demichelis, and Zabaleta would help his lads win it all and I agreed that I thought they would.  It turns out he was right.

In retrospect, I should have asked him what it's like to have two of your favorite teams win championships in their respective sports.  And which one felt better?  Oh well, 'till next time good ole' Ian makes the trip over.  Not only big in stature, but in heart and team spirit as well, I can rest assured that this won't be Ian's last game.  After some hot dogs and a little more Yuengling, it's time to head to the stadium.  The Seahawks fans gathered in the parking lot begin their march to the nearby Bank of America Stadium.  Camera crews are present to capture the atmosphere and spirit of the moment, while Melissa, Steve, and I decide to make our way to our seats.  Our seats are separate, but I decide to head with them up to their's to try and find an empty seat so that we can all sit together. 

We get to our seats and immediately behind us are members of the Lockette family.  Earlier at the tailgate, Steve had gotten Ricardo's uncle a beer.  Ricardo's uncle is a really nice guy and was very grateful for Steve's gesture.  Just a few hours later, they would be sitting one row apart from one another.  The highly unlikely, and seemingly coincidental nature of it all had me thinking back to last year and how many amazing coincidences there were.  Maybe they weren't actually coincidences after all.  Maybe the universe did actually have a way of reaching out a hand and helping open a door whenever you least expected it, so long as you believe and work hard at something.  Regardless, as the game gets underway, my run in the Upper End Zone section comes to an end, as the entire area fills up.  I head towards my actual seat, and tell my friends that I'll see them at halftime.

I don't know why I ever tell anyone that I'll meet them at halftime.  I've done this about 5 times now at various stadiums, and I never actually leave my seat at the half.  I barely pay attention to any of the halftime attractions, but for some reason, I just don't want to miss any of the action when the game returns and the break between halves isn't long enough to walk to another section and make it back without missing something on the field.  That's besides the point though.  On my way towards my seat, I find a great vantage point of the field at around midfield.  A woman wearing a Panthers t-shirt cruises past me in her motorized scooter, with beer in hand.  The Carolina fans are ready for this one, and make no mistake about it, they realize the magnitude of this game for their team.  Both teams fan bases did, actually.  With Seattle at 3-3, a losing record would seem almost unfathomable for the defending Super Bowl champs.  As such, the Panthers stood 3-3-1, and needed to get their act together before digging themselves too deep of a hole.

From the onset, this game feels oddly familiar to the one played last season.  The sun is beating down on the 74,042 people in attendance, although not quite as hot as last year.  Still, if you've ever been down south, you know that the sun just shines a little brighter down there and can really get cooking.  Once again, I curse myself for not bringing any water.  In the early goings, things don't look so good for the Seahawks.  The offense is struggling to find it's rhythm and appears out of sync, while the defense is allowing just enough for the Panthers to sustain drives.  Tharold Simon drops a would-be interception when I get a tap on the shoulder.  It's Mike Flood and his son-in-law, Matt!

Interestingly enough, I had thought about asking Mike if he would be in attendance.  After all, it was there at the tailgate where a drunk man climbed a tree to place a Seahawks jersey a top of it, where I first met Mike.  As the VP of Community Outreach, Mike's been instrumental in me going to as many games as I have.  He's always treated me like a friend, not just some crazy fan, and he's helped me out whenever he's been able to including taking me and friends on tour's of the VMac.  His son-in-law is a giant of a man standing it at 6'10"!  We stand and watch as the Seahawks defense starts bending more and more, allowing first downs and gashing runs from Jonathan Stewart, the University of Oregon product who I was enamored with when coming out of the draft back in the day.

Despite things not looking too good, and another 12 men in the huddle penalty against the 'Hawks, the Seahawks defense holds on a crucial goal-line stand and limits the Panthers to just a field goal from Graham Gano.  It's 6-0, but it could be worse, and a 6 point deficit wasn't going to deter the Seahawks, despite what their current form suggested.  Still, the Seahawks needed to answer with something.  Mike and Matt head back to their seats, and we assure one another that while things were down at at the moment, we'd be the ones walking out smiling when it was all said and done.

I make my way to my seat as an usher tells me that I can't stand where I'm standing anymore.  I make my way to my seat and almost immediately, Paul Richardson injects some life into the team when they absolutely need it most.  With Richardson handling kickoffs while Bryan Walters healed up from a concussion he suffered in practice, #10 made sure to make a positive impression with his opportunity.  His 49 yard return not only gave the Seahawks excellent field position, but it showed what Richardson is capable of when he gets a head of steam in the open field.  The rookie out of Colorado sets the 'Hawks up at around midfield, but despite the tremendous field position, it's eventually Steven Hauschka trotting out for a 58 yarder!  Me and the rest of the Seahawks fans in my section (which there were quite a few of including the couple sitting next to me and the couple in front of me as well) can't believe that Pete is giving Hausch the chance from so deep, but it pays off as Steven drills it on a kick that would have been good from 65!

The game continued on with it's sloppy pace, as both teams refused to grab the game by the horns.  Turnovers and missed opportunities were the theme of the day, as both teams continuously left points on the field.  Both offenses were able to move the ball down the field somewhat effectively, but when it came time for points, both teams seemed allergic to scoring any.  Credit to both defenses for some opportunistic play at times, but this game could have been a shootout if the offenses had brought their A games.  The first half ends with Russell Wilson's possible go-ahead touchdown pass to Marshawn clanking off of the Beast's hands, up into the air, and into the waiting arms of Josh Norman for an interception.  It's a fitting way for the half to end, and the traveling 12th Man licks it's wounds like the black cats they were going up against.  As I expected, I think about meeting Melissa and Steve at the half, but decide against it because I didn't want to miss any of the action.

Steven Hauschka adds another field goal, as the Seahawks tie it at 6.  Funny enough, it's at this point I realize that the Seahawks are wearing their Wolf Grey's.  I think to myself, that's funny, they just wore them last week.  Now, my girlfriend will tell you that I am color-blind and have been since I was a child.  After looking at my phone real quick, I realize that the team was wearing their wolf grey pants last week in St. Louis, with white jersey's.  Today, they were wearing the all wolf grey look.  I feel like an idiot, but who cares.

I remember that the Seahawks are undefeated when wearing wolf grey, and that gives me a little bit of comfort as the game heads down the stretch with seemingly neither team wanting to win it.  I'm flanked by Seahawks fans from Orlando to my left, and a Panthers fan who came to the game by himself to my right.  I was pretty lucky, as everyone was knowledgable about the game and knew exactly what was going on on the field.  That's not always a given at an NFL football game these days.  All of us have one thing in common though, we're all nervous wrecks and can't deal with the sight of our respective team giving up even an inch.  The woman in front of me turns to me and says "you're not from here are you?" to which I reply "nope, I'm from New York City!"  She looks at me in the eye and says "I thought so.  Welcome to the south" and turns to continue sort of watching the game.  I laugh, as it's the most southern thing that's ever happened to me.

With the Panthers facing 3rd and 8 from deep inside their own territory, it looks like the Seahawks defense will come up with another huge stop.  However, they would be left to rue a missed opportunity for a safety by Michael Bennett on Cam Newton just seconds earlier, as Newton heaves one up to Kelvin Benjamin deep down field.  As the ball floated through the air, time seemed to slow down.   I saw the trajectory, where Richard Sherman and Earl Thomas were on the field, and just knew that somehow Benjamin was going to come down with this ball.  The crowd roars as Benjamin comes up from the turf holding the ball in the air to show his fans that he did what he gets paid to do.  It's a demoralizing blow for the Seahawks and their fans, and seems to fall in line with the way the season had gone up to that point.

However, the Seahawks defense might have bent, but they did not break.  Gano was forced to try and hit a 3rd field goal after a clutch sack of Cam Newton by Brandon Mebane derailed the Panthers drive.  Gano connected, but there was plenty of time on the clock, and at 9-6, the offense only needed to get into field goal range to try and take the game into overtime.  Hauschka nailed one from 58 on this same side of the field, so there was reason to believe that this game would at least go to OT.  Then, there was also the fact that Russell Wilson was due for a magical comeback, game winning drive after his previous efforts in San Diego and at home against Dallas fell short.  The man they said was too short, never got the chance in St. Louis after the league botched a fumble at the end of the game, so now was a perfect time to atone for the mistakes of games past.

Calm, cool, poised, and collected, Russell began to lead the Seahawks down the field on their attempted march toward victory.  Precise and accurate despite a shaky performance throughout, the man one of my best friend's Jazz calls 'Hustle Wilson' starts to work his magic.  The Seahawks are being cautious of the clock, using the no-huddle offense to keep the Panthers defense out on the field, not allowing for substitutions and allowing fatigue to set in when it mattered most.  Russell is straight surgical in his approach, and the rest of the Seahawks offense follows suit.  Kevin Norwood makes a great grab on a pass that got on him in a hurry, showing the great hands and clutch ability that he became known for while a member of the Crimson Tide.  Then, after some more heroic play by #3, he finds Luke Willson on a seam route down the middle of the field and connects for a touchdown, as Willson bulldozes his way into the endzone for 6!  The Seahawks fans around me and I go wild, as it feels like a huge weight has been lifted from our shoulders.

At 13-9, the Panthers would get the ball back, but by this time their offense was sunk.  Team morale was low, and the offensive line couldn't prevent Bruce Irvin from taking down Cam twice and preserving the victory for Seattle.  Much like last season and the season before it, the Seahawks had come to Charlotte and beat the Panthers in a defensive battle.  A slugfest that definitely won't go down as one of the prettiest games in NFL history, but more importantly will go down as a Seahawks victory in the standings.  A badly needed victory that brought the Seahawks record to 4-3, and a victory that could possibly help positively effect a team that's had to deal with rumor mongers, malcontents, and everything in between.  The Seahawks had won it the way they won many games last year, ugly, and it was further proof that ugly can be beautiful.

I meet with my friends outside of the stadium and we talk about the game and their experience.  They enjoyed it, and walked around the stadium during the game checking out the contest from different vantage points.  We head back to their car when we bump into PredatorHawk!  He's on cloud nine and has lost his voice from all the yelling he was doing.  I can't help but love it.  Unfortunately, I receive a text message informing me that my 8:30 PM bus ride is now rescheduled to 6 PM.  If I missed the bus at 6, I could board the 11:30 PM bus so there was that consolation prize.  Melissa, Steve, and I decide to not worry about the bus and to have a few drinks and some food instead.

We're at a wing spot Downtown and I'm eating some Sriracha Honey Lime boneless wings when Mike Flood comes up to us from out of nowhere!  He's there with the whole family, and we talk and catch up and discuss the much needed win.  Great people usually surround themselves with equally great people, and that's the case with Mike and his family.  Mike even hands me a page from a coloring book that belongs to his grandson.  It has my name, the score, and Go Hawks on it.  I assure him that it'll go up on the refrigerator first thing when I get back home to New York City.

After watching the Cardinals comeback against the Eagles and the Saints shellacking of the Packers, we decide to head on over to the bus stop.  We were waiting in the parking lot when another hopeful passenger told us that the bus would be canceled and that the next one wouldn't leave until 4 PM the next day!   With work lined up the next day, I absolutely couldn't call out so my mind started spinning at the possibilities.  After attempting to call the bus depot with no luck for nearly half an hour, the young man finally received a call back from the offices in Chinatown!  The bus was in fact, on it's way!  No worries, it had just broken down and they thought they had the problem fixed!  Wait a minute, so you're telling me I'm getting on to a bus for 12 hours that just broke down?  Not fun, that's for sure.

Luckily though, I got the last seat on the bus!  Unluckily for me, it was literally the last seat in the bus, right next to the bathroom door that had no choice but to hit me repeatedly every time someone went in and out of the bathroom.  This meant no sleep for the next 12 hours, but hey, Russell Wilson himself says that there's no time to sleep.  He's obviously taken the bus from Chinatown to Charlotte and back.  I didn't care though, it was worth it.  24 hours of brutal, uncomfortable travel and a victory to show for it.

As we passed through the Holland Tunnel after cruising through North Carolina, Virginia, DC, and Jersey, that familiar feeling started to come back.  That feeling of "mission accomplished."  The feeling of knowing you put in the work and truly earned everything.  It had been missing for the past few weeks, but luckily the NFL season is a marathon and not a sprint.  As I finally got off of that bus, I was not tired, no quite the opposite in fact.  I was reinvigorated with the belief that the Seahawks were turning things around and about to go on a tear.  It might not be pretty every step of the way, but we were on the right path towards rediscovering our identity.  That championship mindset.  I boarded the subway and headed to work.  The grind wasn't over.  Not now, not never.

Wolf Greyhound Blues

I finally thought I'd found what I was looking for.  The hunger, the passion, the unshakable belief that something good was always just right around the corner.  Believing in the universe coming up big when I needed it most and believing in the Seahawks always coming up big when we needed it most.  After tasting defeat unexpectedly at home against the Cowboys, I sat on my flight home (only my second flight back to NYC from Seattle after a loss) and thought about ways that I too, like the team, could get back to my roots and rediscover my identity.  Then, the idea came to me. I'd finally found it.

With funds low and the budget tight, something drastic had to be done.  That's when I thought about the possibility of taking the bus to St. Louis rather than taking a flight.  As I looked up tickets, they were actually pretty affordable, and midway through the week I had convinced myself that I would be taking a bus from Manhattan to Missouri.  At 22 hours each way, this would no doubt be the most grueling travel that I had faced since my Seahawk odyssey began in September of 2013.  Still, despite the seemingly daunting task, I was excited for an opportunity to see parts of Pennsylvania and Ohio that I hadn't seen before.  I'd even be getting a chance to see parts of Maryland, Indiana, and Missouri, so I was actually looking forward to the trip by the week's end.  Then, everything changed.

It was at Horman's Best Pickles stand that I first learned of the news regarding Percy Harvin's trade.  I'll never forget where I was or what I was doing on that day.  I'm sure a lot of people will feel that way on what was surely one of the most shocking days in Seahawks history.  In my case, I was working selling pickles on the corner of Carmine and the Avenue of Americas.  My lovely lady Laura was off to the right of the stand, having come to visit me after getting off from her job nearby.  Suddenly, a man and a woman stood before me and the first thing the guy says to me is "you heard about the trade, right?!"  Having been working, I wasn't able to check my phone for a while.  "No, what trade" I replied, as I suddenly wondered what trade it could be they were talking about and who exactly these people were.

"The Seahawks just traded Percy Harvin to the Jets!" the man shouts, as his girlfriend chimes in protesting his virtue.  I quickly grab my phone from my jeans pocket, and realize that I have 11 unread text messages.  I stood there perplexed, first at the news of the trade, and secondly at the thought of who these people were, and how they knew I was a Seahawks fan.  It was then that I realized that I was wearing my Seahawks t-shirt from Training Camp in 2013.  I pull up one of the text's from my buddy Greg to discover that Percy Harvin had indeed been traded to the New York Jets.  I wasn't ready for this.  Just days before a long haul across the country, I was caught completely by surprise and it took me a while to be able to reel it in at work and focus on the task at hand.

As news of altercations from last season involving Harvin began to spread, my mind could not comprehend what had happened.  I had so many questions that I didn't even know where to start to look for answers.  All I could do, was think of the positives.  Greg passed by the pickle stand that night, and the two of us spoke about how the money saved from Harvin's deal could potentially be used to lock up other stalwart's of the team for the future.  Perhaps even Marshawn Lynch. Still, we could not help but think of the assets that were lost, both draft picks and players, to make room for #11.  Ironically, he'd be heading to New York.  Surely, the New York media will not be as respectful of Mr. Harvin's personal space as he's been used to so far in his career in Minnesota and Seattle.

However, we both agreed that what was important was that the Seahawks were attempting to fix the problem.  Not only that, but both Pete Carroll and John Schneider had to check their ego's at the door in making such a move, so they must have some serious conviction behind their beliefs on what needed to happen for the betterment of the team.  There's probably countless teams in the league where that wouldn't happen.  Where the player in question would have remained a member of the team for far too long, destroying the locker room while the coaches continue to justify his large salary by funneling him the ball.  Not in Seattle.  Pete Carroll's #1 rule is to protect the team, and he and John Schneider practiced what they preach in shipping Percy off to East Rutherford.

There wasn't much time to let the news digest.  The following morning, it was time to head to the Port Authority in Manhattan to catch a 9 AM Greyhound bus from NYC to Baltimore.  From Baltimore, we'd then be heading to Pittsburgh, followed by stops in Columbus, Ohio and Indianapolis before finally ending up in St. Louis a mere 22 hours after it all began.  Luckily I'd only be making the grueling trip once as I found a reasonable ticket for a flight back home after the game.  All I had to do was work a shift that Monday at the pickle stand and I'd be making back the money spent on a flight home, so it wasn't that bad.  I figured that my body would thank me later and that it's a marathon, not a race, and that I had to preserve myself whenever I could.

However, things nearly ended before they even started, as I just missed the C train that I was banking on taking straight to 42nd Street.  I was a little upset, but I tried not to let it get to me.  Soon, I heard a Jamaican woman tell her son that they were going to walk to the next stop, Bedford-Nostrand, to catch the express.  I realized that she was a genius, the Russell Wilson to my Paul Richardson if you will.  She was going to lead me to the promised land. And much like Wilson, she set me up with the perfect play, and like Richardson hopefully, I took it to the house with the jets!

I sprinted down Fulton Street towards the next stop which was just a few blocks away.  I reach the station as I start to run out of gas, and as I swipe my MetroCard I see that the A train that was going to save me at just the right time, was just pulling out of the station.  My bus was scheduled to leave at 9 and it was already 8 and I had missed two trains.  Self-doubt began to creep in for a second, as I even thought about leaving the station and taking a cab to 42nd Street instead. With the unpredictable nature of traffic in Manhattan, a cab was no sure thing either, so I was caught in no-man's land.

Thankfully for me, another A train was directly behind the one that had just left me in the dust.  I got on this train knowing that, barring a horrendous collapse from the MTA, I'd probably be getting to my bus on time and I had the Jamaican mother with great foresight to thank.  She showed me the way, and I followed, and I was rewarded.  Fortunately, there was no collapse from the usually unreliable MTA, and I made it to my bus' gate with a few minutes to spare actually.

I've got to say, there's something liberating about not traveling with any bags or luggage.  The only thing I had with me this time was my "portable briefcase", otherwise known as a black plastic bag with an iPad, all of my chargers, and some snacks in it.  I've traveled with less before, and that's when you truly feel liberated.  Still, what I was rolling with wasn't half bad.  To make things even better, every bus that I'd be taking was equipped with free WiFi and power outlets so that I wouldn't run out of juice while I wrote or talked with my girlfriend.  The ride to Baltimore from Manhattan is a quick one, relatively, and before I knew it I was transferring to a bus headed to Pittsburgh.

I'm still haunted by Super Bowl XL, although I must admit, 2013 went a long way in my healing process from those scars.  That doesn't mean I didn't utter some foul words under my breath when the bus driver said "next stop, Pittsburgh, home of the Steelers."  I wished that we were still cruising through the Pennsylvania countryside, which was pleasant and made me feel like I was back in Pullman for just a minute.  After about an hour layover in Pittsburgh, we re-boarded with our sights set on Ohio.  As we were leaving though, we drove past PNC Park and I was able to get a shot of what's known as one of the nicest ballparks in all of baseball.

I dose in and out of sleep, trying to time everything just perfectly, doing anything I possibly can to make this ride seem shorter than it really was.  There was no avoiding it though, this was the long haul.  Although, I must say, a 22 hour bus ride is infinitely more comfortable than even a 6 hour plane ride.  We head in to Columbus, Ohio, our next stop.  It's my first time in the great state of Ohio, and it's a brief trip, but hopefully I'll be back next season for the game against the Bengals, which will be played in Cincy.  The Buckeyes had just trounced Rutgers, so the Greyhound employees were all decked out in their scarlet red.  I watch the third quarter of the Notre Dame/Florida State game before having to re-board the bus.  Our next destination, Indianapolis, which meant that we were finally almost in St. Louis.

One of the great things about traveling by bus is the type of people that you meet.  Gone are the suits, laptops, and break-neck paced travelers who are merely trying to get from point a to point b, not embracing the true spirit of travel.  Replace those suits with tattered velour jumpsuits, the laptops with what would now be considered ancient DVD players that made the whole bus sound like it was going to blow up when it first turned on and tried to read the disc, and instead of a stream of people moving at lightyear speeds you've got people traveling 4 days via bus from North Carolina to California.  The stories you hear are a lot different too.  Business meetings?  The guy behind me just got out of prison after 10 years and just wants to start a tattoo shop with his new lady and settle down.  These are the things you hear when you take a bus across the United States.  Real, gritty stories from real, gritty people.

Grit is a term I associate with Indianapolis.  We roll in to the city, drab and desolate surrounded only by smokestacks, power plants, and factories.  Indianapolis is old-school Americana at it's finest.  A charming town with some pretty cool residents as well.  The Greyhound station is right near Lucas Oil Stadium, and my mind starts to flashback to the Seahawks tough loss there last season.  What a game that was.  Much like some of the games so far this season, it seemed that lady luck just wasn't in Seattle's corner, in fact, she was wearing a blue #12 jersey on that day.  Still, a beautiful stadium and a great city and I was happy to be back.  I can't wait to re-board the bus this time, because the Indy Greyhound stop smells horrendous.  There's salt of the earth, and then there's the smell of salty sweat.

We hop back on the bus with St. Louis now in our sights.  18 hours down, 4 to go.  There go those salt of the earth type people that you find on a Greyhound bus, and this time there was one sitting right next to me.  He seemed to be a cowboy of sorts, legit though, not a Cowboys fan.  After a while of trying to sleep, we both realize that we can't so we start talking to one another instead.  His name is Josh, he's a Bengals fan, and he's from Indiana.  I've got a soft-spot in my heart for the Bungies (no, that's not a typo, but what I liked to call them as a kid), so I immediately was captivated by this Indiana cowboy who just wanted to smoke a damn cigarette.  We talk for a couple of hours about football, life in Indiana and life in NYC, and being fans of two teams that used to be prime candidates for "laughingstock of the NFL" that had now suddenly morphed into potential candidates for "best of the NFL."

Our bus driver gets lost for a few minutes, but eventually, we make it to St. Louis at around 7 AM Central time.  The game doesn't start until 12, so I contact my old friend Bob aka the PredatorHawk to see if there's anyone tailgating at this ungodly time of day.  The Midwest Seahawkers know how to party, so of course, they're already setting up things just near the stadium.  It's about a mile walk from where I'm at so I part ways with my new buddy Josh, wish the Bengals the best of luck, and head towards the Edward Jones Dome.  On the way, I see a statue of a kangaroo, and the Scottrade Center, home of the St. Louis Blues.  They've got an awesome statue of Al MacInnis out front that puts most other bronze statues to shame.

I feel like I'm walking through downtown Atlanta in the Walking Dead.  The downtown streets are empty, mostly all blocked off due to a marathon.  I walk through the roads with no fear, as I spot the legendary Arch in the distance, as well as Busch stadium.  It's the 4th stadium I've seen so far on this trip across the country to the midwest.  PNC Park, Lucas Oil Stadium, Scottrade Center, and Busch Stadium, and I hadn't even gotten to the Edward Jones Dome.  As a sports enthusiast my entire life, it's pretty cool getting to see all of these new, nice parks scattered about.  I continue my peaceful walk to 7th Street and just north of the stadium.  The tailgate awaits!

I'm down by the stadium now and it all comes back to me.  Things start to look familiar from last season.  I make my way to the rundown parking lot where the tailgate is about to go down and who do I see?  PredatorHawk!  Bob is a great guy and my girlfriend and I had met him in Charlotte for the season opener last year.  Along the way Bob hooked it up with a ticket to the Titans game, let me crash at his hotel room between the Titans and Cardinals games when lord knows I wouldn't have been able to afford one, and genuinely did everything he could to help me conquer my quest.  I owe a lot of what I was able to accomplish to Bob, and I'm thankful that I was able to meet such a good person along my travels.

Bob's got the bar going, and he's churning out bloody mary's for the masses like it's his job.  Peter Flores is there too, helping set things up.  Also in attendance, is the dude from the 'Rams Rules' videos of infamy, but I can't quite remember his name.  Nice guy though, along with all of his buddies, who seem to be certain that the Rams will find a way to lose this game.  I tell them, not so fast!  There's something unsettling about this one for me as a Seahawks fan.  Confidence isn't too high around both camps, but Rams fans are visibly dejected.  Losing is taking it's toll on them.  Still, we cheers to a good game and they go on their way.  Shortly after, Bob feels a twinge in his side.  Is it the dreaded oblique strain that so many Seahawks dealt with last year?!  Whatever it was, Bob was looking too good, so I asked if he wanted me to step in and bartend instead.  After all, that's one of my callings in this life.

I mostly enjoyed bartending.  I love talking to people and getting to know new faces, as well as hearing the stories that people are more likely to tell once they've had a bit of alcohol.  I always truly enjoy serving people, and trying to make something that their senses might like.  It had been a few months though, but I figured it was like riding a bike.  Soon, hordes of people were coming up to the table asking for drinks, so I decided to improvise.  The "menu", if you could call it that, would consist of three drinks.  The Hauschka, the Jon Ryan, and the Beast Mode.  The Hauschka was created because a dude was actually wearing a Hauschka jersey and wanted a drink.  The Hauschka was a combination of House vodka and Arizona Cherry Lime Rickey, and folks said it was delicious!  The Jon Ryan consists of Tanqueray Gin, Arizona Mango Lime Rickey and Arizona Cherry Lime Rickey, another crowd pleaser.

As the Hauschka and Ryan went like hotcakes, we had to improvise with what we had.  Sometimes, improvisation can lead to the greatest creations or moments in the history of mankind.  Russell Wilson is a living testament to this idea.  I ask Jane, who was sitting by me kind of overseeing all of this while talking to her husband, if we have any more liquor. She points to a black plastic bag.  I reach in and grab a bottle of Bacardi 'Wolf Berry' and with the Seahawks slated to wear Wolf Grey's on the day, I figure that this will be perfect.  Thus, the 'Beast Mode' was born.

Some blueberry rum (infused with Wolf Berry, whatever that is), Arizona Mango Lime Rickey, and Orange Citrus Mountain Dew energy drink and we were set!  People were loving these Beast Modes, saying they tasted exactly like Skittles!  It was a success, and it was great to see everyone having a great time and enjoying themselves.  Being able to help was also a great feeling, and for the first time all year, that great vibe and harmoniousness of the 12th Man was all around me.  As I stood there bartending and talking to people, I told them of my travels.  People were blown away, and couldn't believe that I traveled 22 hours on busses to bartend in the back of a beat-up parking lot across the street from the Edward Jones Dome.  "You gotta be a team player!" was my line for the day.

Some people were so blown away by my story, that they insisted on "wanting to contribute" and started handing me $20's!  I couldn't believe what was happening, but before I knew it, I walked out of that parking lot with more money than when I started.  A considerable amount more.  It was unbelievable and I'll never forget Marcus, Rob, or Bob, just a few of the people who went above and beyond the call of duty as citizens of this universe and Seahawks fans, to try and help someone out.  We cleaned up the mess we had made, toasted to a great tailgate with some slices of pepperoni pizza topped on the fly with some pulled pork (it was as delicious as it sounds!), and headed towards the gates to see if the Seahawks could regain their confidence and get back in to the win column.  I was especially optimistic, after having seen a great deal of compassion from complete strangers who reached out to me and helped me in a time of need, even though they didn't even know the magnitude of what they had done.

I ditch my "portable briefcase" at the gate, and the security guard who's about to screen me can't help but laugh at the sight of a man carrying his entire life in his two hands.  Chargers, an iPad, keys, wallet, ID, everything was out for all to see.  I'm sure that I looked like I was in various stages of homelessness, but I simply didn't care.   Our group gets through security and we head to our seats.  As fate would have it, my ticket that I had purchased in Section 420 for only $10 was right next to the Midwest Seahawkers in Section 419!  I bypass going to my seat and sit with my fellow Diehard's instead.  I'll always be able to tell my grandchildren that I paid $10 for an NFL game during the height of Roger Goodell's money-making empire.

We get to our seats as the game gets underway.  The Seahawks defense starts with an impressive opening drive, for a change, and forces the Rams offense to go 3 and out.  It's just one drive, but with the way the defense has been playing as of late, it felt like much more.  Soon, the Seahawks offense is on the field to try and answer questions about how the offense will look without Percy Harvin.  The answer to that question, is a little bit more like last year's offense, as the 'Hawks march down the field on the back of a great catch and run by Doug Baldwin.  Much like last year though, the offense bogs down inside the red zone and has to settle for a field goal.  Still, it's a positive start to the game and that's all the 'Hawks are looking for after a week shrouded by negativity.

The positivity doesn't last long though, after the Seahawks special teams are caught napping on a kick return.  Cunningham takes the ball into Seahawks territory with ease down the right sideline, as it appears that everyone just thought he'd take a knee.  It's not long before Tre Mason gets in the end zone, the Rams go up 7-3, and section 419 starts to quiet down a bit.  419 literally has their backs up against the wall in this one, as we are in the last row of seats in the stadium!  I bang the wall behind me whenever I feel the Seahawks defense needs a little more encouragement.  It's the second game this season, along with the Washington game at FedEx Field, where the group I'm sitting with has had a wall, or chainlink fence, behind us.  When I look at how this season is unfolding, it makes sense.  Our backs are up against the wall.

Things get even uglier for Seattle, as Bennie Cunningham adds to the Seahawks misery with a 5 yard touchdown reception from the surprisingly effective Austin Davis.  To make matters even worse, after a Seahawks drive stalls out around midfield, Jon Ryan's punt is fielded on an over-the-shoulder grab by Steadman Bailey and taken to the house for a 90 yard punt return touchdown!  The entire Seahawks special teams unit gets drawn in by Tavon Austin's coy acting job, pretending to camp under the ball about to field the punt, meanwhile the ball is on the other side of the field and Steadman Bailey has one of the easiest touchdowns of his life.  Once again, the Rams special teams unit takes the Seahawks to school.  As you would expect though, Russell Wilson leads a drive for a field goal at the end of the half, showing signs of life and the fight that helped make this team Super Bowl champions just 8 months earlier.

With the score 21-6 at the half, our group in Section 419 is dumb-founded.  This is not what we were expecting.  I did not expect to travel 22 hours on a plethora of buses just to watch the Seahawks get annihilated by the struggling Rams.  Was this rock bottom?  We soldiered on to find out, as we always do. 

The Seahawks offense picks up right where they left off in the first half, and steadily progress down the field before scoring a touchdown on a 19 yard scramble by Russell Wilson.  He beats Ogletree to the edge, and the rest is history.  It is obvious that 'Hustle Wilson' means business, and that his razor-sharp focus will have the Seahawks in this game at the end of it.  With a multitude of injuries and the trade of Percy Harvin, guys like Cooper Helfet, Paul Richardson, Kevin Norwood, Robert Turbin, and even Christine Michael start to get their opportunities.  All hands are now on deck.

The defense continues to stiffen, and the 'Hawks offense gets the ball back and once again #3 proceeds to tear the Rams defense apart.  Russell is absorbing some hits though, as the porous offensive line continues to struggle with keeping #3 upright.  As for Marshawn Lynch, he could have had a big day, but it seemed that any time he had a nice run for decent yardage, it was negated by a penalty.  It was just that kind of day for Beast.  It makes sense that the Rams were keyed in on Lynch after the Harvin trade.  With all the talk of "getting back to the basics" for Seattle, the Rams would be fools not to know that that meant a steady dosage of Marshawn.  They were ready though, and did a solid job of containing him for the most part.

Seattle didn't need Lynch on this day though, because Russell Wilson was doing everything.  He scrambles down the left sideline for a monster gain, one of the best run's I've ever seen him make in his young, 3 year career.  Later, Russ throws a perfectly placed pass to Cooper Helfet, who somehow manages to make an excellent grab while keeping both feet in bounds.  After reviewing the play, the ruling on the field is confirmed, and Cooper Helfet had his first career touchdown in the NFL.  A beautiful one at that.  The young man who is also Marshawn Lynch's roommate and considers Marshawn to be his best friend, had just made a remarkable catch to make the game 21-19.  The 'Hawks go for two, and nearly convert on a diving effort from Jermaine Kearse, but maybe Jermaine should have just let the pass float by because Robert Turbin was there waiting for the ball behind him, only to see it bounce off of Kearse's hands and off the turf for an incomplete pass.  The score reads 21-19, and I'll take it at this point after the way this one started.

Unfortunately, as has been the case too often this season, the defense was unable to stop the Rams.  Austin Davis continues to elude the Seahawks mostly invisible pass rush, and the Rams answer with a touchdown of their own from Davis to Kendricks.  Our crew in 419 takes it as a sucker punch to the gut that we saw coming from a mile away.  With 5:36 left in the game, and the Rams up 28-19, we were still optimistic that the 'Hawks could steal this game.  With Russell Wilson having been unstoppable since the end of the second quarter, the Seahawks were always going to have a chance.  Luckily, the Rams defense goes into prevent and looks more like swiss cheese than an NFL defense, and Russell continues to shred his divisional foes in an attempt to escape from Missouri with a W.  After a quick-strike drive gets the 'Hawks into scoring position, Russ finds Doug Baldwin, who continues his breakout game of 2014 by slipping past defenders and waltzing into the end zone for 6.  Is that Percy Harvin he's mocking, with his quick jab celebration?  We'll have to wait for Doug's playing days to be over, and for his autobiography to come out to find out the answer to that one.

The scoreboard now reads '28-26' with St. Louis on top, and 3 minutes and 18 seconds left to play in the ballgame.  Momentum was definitely firmly in the Seahawks corner, as the Rams started their drive knowing that they needed a first down or two to ice the game.  However, the Seahawks defense knew that as well, and on 3rd down Richard Sherman makes what appears to be a game saving play as he defends a pass into the slot from Davis.  What happened next, was the second worst thing to happen all day.  On 4th down, inside their own 25 yard line and up by 2, the Rams fake the punt and catch the Seahawks with their pants down on special teams for the 3rd time on the day.  The Rams pick up the first down and the Midwest Seahawkers dejectedly stand there with nothing to say.  Rams fans go insane, as it appears that their lowly squad had just gone toe to toe with the world champions and walked away victorious.

The rest of the game seemed a formality at this point, and the rookie officiating crew assigned to this game must have felt the same way.  With the Rams attempting to run out the clock, Bennie Cunningham picks up a first down that should end it.  However, he fumbles the ball before he hits the turf.  The ball rolls around on the ground and a mad dash to jump on top of it ensues.  A St. Louis player dives on the ball first, but the ball squirts out from under him and appears to fall into the waiting arms of Richard Sherman, or at least two other Seahawks defenders who were right behind him who also dove after the loose ball.  Section 419 perks up again, as it looks like the Seahawks might take a page out of their 2013 season and steal a road victory when it seemed most improbable.

However, the refs had somewhere to be after the game, as the ball is ruled having been recovered by the Rams, despite what everyone in the Edward Jones Dome had witnessed with their own eyes.  There is no review, no nothing.  Just a kneel down from Austin Davis and a Rams victory.  Russell Wilson's opportunity to win the game would never materialize on this day, and the Seahawks fans in attendance were left to rue what was a mysterious call at best, but probably one of the worst botchings of a fumble in NFL history.  I leave the arena absolutely furious, as are most Seahawks fans that had just witnessed that atrocity.  I didn't want to take anything away from St. Louis, who deserved credit for pulling out a tough victory, but the Seahawks were robbed of a chance to win it late, and that's all I ask for, is a chance.

The Midwest Seahawkers head back to our post on 7th Street and commiserate over our terrible luck.  Somehow, the Seahawks were now 3-3 and in the midst of a two game losing streak, something we hadn't experienced since October of 2012.  Still, we knew in our heart of heart's that it was well deserved, and as Bob, Peter, Jane, and I parted ways we knew that changes would have to be made if the Seahawks wanted to turn things around.  I say my goodbyes, assure everyone that the Seahawks are still going to win the Super Bowl, and sprint for the train to the airport on 6th and Washington.  I board the train with no time to spare, and am immediately greeted inside by two fellow dejected Seahawks fans.  We discuss what went wrong and whether or not the Seahawks could turn things around, which we all agreed that they could and would.

Seated just a few feet away from us was a woman wearing a Helfet jersey.  You don't see those too often, and usually in that case, it's a relative or friend of said rare name on jersey.  In this case, it was Cooper Helfet's mom.  We told her it was a pleasure to meet her, and congratulations on an excellent moment for her son and I'm sure her and all of his loved ones, too.  It was a beautiful grab, one that Sidney Rice is certainly proud of, the Seahawks toe-tapping king himself.  I'm playing, Doug, don't get upset.  You definitely earned that crown with the clutch nature of your toe-tappers last year, I'm sure Sid agrees.

Helfet's mother, Marj, is a down to earth person, who tells us that Luke Willson is a really good tight end also, and probably a better blocker than her son.  She was very honest about Cooper's abilities as a blocker, but pointed to the fact that her son is definitely more of a pass-catcher, as was evident by his play earlier in the day.  Before getting off at the airport, I let her know that the Seahawks are still going to win it all, and that Cooper's going to play a surprisingly large part in it.  He could be the red zone target Russell Wilson has been looking for since the injuries and eventual retirement of Sidney Rice.  I board my plane home truly wondering what's next?

So, despite a disappointing loss and a 3-3 record, there was still a lot to be upbeat about.  Much like the Seahawks, things started to come together a bit in St. Louis.  A bit of that magic from last season and 2012 had seemed to reappear.  I took a bus 22 hours to St. Louis just to watch the Seahawks lose, and the only thing I was left thinking was "maybe if I had taken the bus home also, they would have won?"  Much like the 'Hawks, I only went half way.  It was a great experience and left me know that I was capable of much more, much like the team must have felt after this game.  I know I know... it doesn't matter if I fly, bus, train, or walk it to a game, it has nothing to do with what happens on the field.  Still, that feeling of not giving it my absolute 120 percent of what I now remembered I was capable of, had me scrambling to buy my round-trip bus tickets from Chinatown to Charlotte.

It would be a return to where it all began last September.  So much has happened since then.  With the Seahawks season facing a major turning point, two 12 hour bus trips lie ahead.  Was St. Louis rock bottom? Or would 3-4, a losing record, be rock bottom instead?  Who knows yet?  Not me.  All I knew is that I was going to have to go back to my roots for a clue on what to do next.  All aboard the Chinatown bus.  Hope my driver got enough sleep last night.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

A trip to the nation's capital proved to be just what the doctor ordered.  It wasn't the prettiest display in Seahawks history, but it got the job done.  Having experienced last season, and remembering that there were some clunkers sprinkled in there, not much thought was given to the style of play or lack thereof.  Naturally, with a game in the fortress known as CenturyLink Field against the usual paper tiger Dallas Cowboys, it appeared that the magical elixir known as "winning" would help remedy the Seahawks early season blues.

Meanwhile, back in New York City, I was beginning to settle into a somewhat normal schedule at work.  Selling pickles on a street corner wasn't what I had envisioned myself doing to fund this season, but it was what it was, and I'm not too good for any job.  Whatever it takes, was what I kept telling myself.  Oddly enough, I find my new job quite liberating.  I still get to interact with tons of people every day, something that I love, but without the rigor, demands, and expectations of serving or bartending.  Generally, people are quite happy when they're buying pickles, especially when they're damn good like these ones are.

Once again, it was time for my two world's to collide.  Luck appeared to be on my side, as I found a ticket to Seattle from Newark, through Minneapolis, just a day before traveling for $195.  I'd be using some of my miles that I had accrued from last season and earlier this season for my return trip home, plus $30.  A round trip flight for $225 just a day before traveling, it felt like a major win for sure.  And it also felt like the football god's and the universe were firmly in my corner, once again.  A conveniently placed bye week while I found new employment, followed by a seemingly impossible trip to DC for the Redskins game on Monday Night for only $48, and now this.  Things appeared to be lining up for another miraculous season, just like last year.

I make the 2 hour trek from Clinton Hill, Brooklyn to Newark International Airport early Saturday morning.  I make it in plenty of time for my 11:34 AM flight and soon, I was off to MSP for a 3 hour layover.  Looking back on things now as I sit on this flight back home, this layover was probably the highlight of the entire trip.  That's not a good sign, save for the fact that it probably would have been even had the Seahawks won.  Minneapolis is the home of, in my mind, the greatest Seahawks fan of all-time and one hell of an amazing and interesting person.  Leif, a man who's passion for the Seahawks is only matched by the size of his heart and his passion for traveling and human interaction with people from all walks of life.

Leif truly is one of the special ones in this life, and after crashing at my place for the Super Bowl, he had left some of his gear behind.  I lugged it with me from home to Minneapolis, as Leif had told me that he'd meet me at MSP.  As our plane landed and I headed out the gate, I was greeted by the familiar face whom I had shared so many experiences with just a year ago.  What made things even better was that despite recovering from a serious injury, he looked good as new!  The travels have been a bit interesting this season, so far, and seeing Leif for the first time since the Super Bowl brought back a sea of great memories that I had almost forgotten because of the focus applied to attempting to witness the repeat.

In true Leif fashion, the man was prepared to do something interesting.  After checking with Delta to see if my seat would be needed and if I would have to be bumped to a later flight to no avail, we bolt for the parking lot and jump in Leif's ride.  Having not been unable to fly out to Minneapolis in the summer as planned, this was my first taste of the beautiful state of Minnesota. Even as my plane was flying in earlier, I marveled at how flying over the city felt like flowing over a giant Central Park.  I was even able to spot the Minnesota Gophers outdoor stadium and Target Field from a bird's eye view up above.

Our first stop was Palmer's, a gritty place that is truly the definition of a "dive bar."  Known for it's widespread crowd, mostly the haggard and mentally ill, it's a sort of institution despite it's ominous description.  We drink a local brew, Summit, I think, before heading to our next spot.  Leif warns me that the next spot isn't the coolest place in the world, but that there was a reason for us going there.  That reason was Leif's buddy James, who I had just stumbled into in DC prior to the Monday nighter!  It was beginning to feel a lot like last season again, with spontaneous twists and turns all ending up in glorious wins both on and off the field.  I have a Midnight Ryder, another local brew as the three of us catch up and watch the conclusion of the Gophers victory over Northwestern.

After saying our goodbyes, Leif and I head to his apartment, a sweet pad that makes perfect sense of you know Leif.  After I taste some excellent rum and bourbon, we head to our third and final spot during this action packed 3 hour layover.  We go to another local watering hole of his preference, where I try a Grape Ape for the first time.  I now see what people in Minneapolis do with their free time.  Leif rushes me back to the airport just in time for my flight to Seattle.  Unfortunately, I wouldn't be getting that $300 voucher from Delta, and I wouldn't get to hang in Minneapolis with Leif any longer.  As we part ways, Leif adds that there's a possibility that he could be in Seattle for the game.  It would be his first game of the season.  This news is music to my ears, and I sleep like a log after breezing through security and boarding my flight to the Pacific Northwest.

It's the first time on any of my travels over the past year and change now where I've literally fallen asleep before take off and woken up in an entirely different place.  Usually, I can't sleep worth a lick, but the Grape Ape in me makes sure that I finally get some sleep while in flight.  I rise from my slumber, and head out into the rainy abyss known as Seattle.  Seattle's so beautiful that even when it's pouring outside and miserable, it still leaves you in awe of it's beauty.  I head down to Temple Billiards to grab a bite as I normally do, devouring a delicious spicy Italian sandwich.  After chatting with Damian, the doorman at Temple and an awesome person, I begin to head towards SeaTac, which will be my resting place for the evening.  Luckily, my buddy Bart who gave me a Marshawn Lynch jersey last season, (as well as handing fellow road warrior Greg $100 to buy a Russell Wilson Super Bowl jersey) was also in town for the game and he offered me a place to crash for the night.

Bart is the definition of a standup guy, and his wife is the best too for agreeing to let me sleep on their hotel room floor.  You know, they say that sleeping on the floor is good for you, or something, and I've got to say that it beats trying to sleep in a chair on an airplane!  That's got to be as bad for your back as sleeping on the floor is good for it, and I can attest to that as I developed a painful cyst on my back from all of my traveling last season. I choose to rationalize these sort of things that happen by thinking "hey, I'm just like Marshawn! Playing through back pain and not letting it hold me back."  Luckily, I was better now and I got a good night's sleep before gameday, which is a rarity for me as anyone who knows me will attest.

The three of us awaken to a pleasant Seattle day, with the rain from yesterday just a distant memory.  After grabbing some breakfast, Bart and his wife head for their rental car in a nearby parking garage.  I head a different way, to the bank to take out some cash just in case I need to purchase a hard copy of a ticket.  Leif tells me that he won't be making it to the game, and to start looking for one ticket for myself.  Did I mention that I didn't have a ticket to the game yet?  Things had fallen through with my ticket connections and I was forced to fend for myself on the secondary market.  Somehow, this game started at $250 for the cheapest ticket just to get into the stadium!  Having paid $225 for the season opener against the Packers, and $225 for the home opener against the Niners last year, I knew that there was no way that I was paying $25 more for a game in October against the Dallas Cowboys.

I understand, Super Bowl champion prices, people want to cash in on their season tickets after years of being unable to even give them away, and the Cowboys are debatably still "America's Team" and they have fans all over the country who hopped on the bandwagon over a decade ago when Dallas was still relevant in the NFL.  Of course, the NFL and the sports media go out of their way to always keep the Cowboys relevant because of that widespread fan-base and because they sell but that's another debate that we won't start up right here, right now.  The bottom line was, I did not have a good feeling about this game after reading the secondary market.  With ticket prices being so high, it probably meant that the place would be polluted with Cowboys fans, as the more seasoned Seahawks fans had sold their tickets to watch the game at home because it was a probable win for Seattle.  Still, I remained optimistic that I was just being overly pessimistic and continued on in my quest for a ticket.

With last week's game ticket only costing $18, and with tickets to the Rams game in St. Louis starting at only $10 (which is 2 dollars higher than last year's $8 tickets for the same game), I figured that no matter what I payed I'd still be winning overall.  I watched Stubhub as prices continued to drop the closer we got to gametime.  I head down to Temple after hitting up Chase bank, and take my chances with someone in attendance possibly having an extra ticket. No dice.  However, I see a random ticket on sale on Stubhub for $179.  This being the lowest price I had seen since the start of the week, I jumped all over it and made the purchase.  I would be sitting in Section 334 for the showdown with the 'Boys.  Soon, Bart and his contingency arrive at Temple, as does Todd and his.  Also making an appearance was LymonHawk, a Seahawks.Net legend and pretty awesome dude who originally hails from the Bronx.  It wasn't long before I had to split though, to go to a random FedEx to print my ticket for the game.

After accomplishing that mission with ease, I head back to Temple to talk about the game at hand with my fellow diehards.  Eli is there too now, and all of us discuss what it'll take in order for Seattle to beat Dallas.  Largely, we are all skeptical of the "paper tigers" from Dallas, as Todd proclaims.  After spending years watching the Cowboys flounder to 8-8 record after 8-8 record, I must admit that I was skeptical as well and that I took this team lightly.  We all agree that Seattle will break the Cowboys spirit by midway through the third quarter after a heavy dosage of Marshawn, and that the Seahawks will be 4-1 in a few hours.

Now, unlike most people, I don't hate the Dallas Cowboys.  I have too many friends, family, and loved ones in my life who are Cowboys fans that I just can't bring myself to genuinely hate them like I do the 49ers.  They just don't occupy a lot of space in my mind, they hardly ever face the Seahawks, and they haven't posed a legitimate threat to Seattle, the NFC, or the NFL for years.  The group leaves Temple, and there's someone up above flying a plane with a banner with the Cowboys star on it that reads "How bout them Cowboys".  Some people are upset by this move, which is pretty funny in my mind, especially when you consider that Seahawks fans did the same thing in San Francisco last year in the game at Candlestick Park. What goes around comes around.

The march to the stadium is a brief one, and unfortunately it appears that my worst fears may come true.  The streets are lined with Cowboys fans, boisterous and annoying as usual, severely lacking in any form of self respect or class, but it's to be expected from the bunch.  I've never heard "woo!" as much as I did from Cowboys fans entering the stadium, they seriously love screaming "woo!" to one another and giving each other random high-fives.  I make it half way up one of the walkways behind the Hawks Nest, before I'm stopped by the opening kickoff and the insatiable desire to see every play.  Once again, as expected and as I pointed last week, teams are trying to throw Seattle off their game even from the coin toss.  Or, everyone is trying to mimic Seattle's success from last season by deferring.  One of these days lady luck needs to reappear in the form of a coin toss, so that the Seahawks can win a coin toss and get back to having the defense set the tone for the game.

Only, as the game gets going, it doesn't appear that that would be necessary.  The 'Hawks march down the field on their opening drive before ultimately settling for a field goal.  It's a solid start to the game, and it only gets better after the Seahawks defense stymies the Cowboys offense and forces a punt.  Doug Baldwin appears to be lined up with the Cowboys gunner, but at the last second he crashes down hard on the left side of the Cowboys line and comes through clean for a diving punt block.  Mike Morgan recovers the loose football and takes it straight ahead for the score and a quick 10-0 lead!  Usually, that's enough at CenturyLink for the Seahawks.  And usually, most teams would just fold like a cheap suit under such pressure.  However, not the Cowboys, not on this day.

Despite being down quick, the Cowboys stick with their gameplan.  That means a steady dosage of DeMarco Murray, some clutch throws by Tony Romo, and a defense that excelled with their man coverage that the Seahawks just couldn't seem to exploit.  Somehow, in the blink of an eye, it's 10-10 and the Cowboys are now marching down the field with time dwindling in the first half.  Up to this point, the game has been a disaster, as every category is largely in the Cowboys favor.  Total yards, first downs, and most importantly time of possession.  Suddenly, this game is starting to feel a lot like the San Diego game from a few weeks ago.  Even more shocking this time around, since the Seahawks were being dominated at home, an extremely rare occurrence.  Things continue to get worse, as Tony Romo fires a touchdown pass with 16 seconds on the clock in the first half.  The Seahawks had coughed away a ten point lead, at home, to the Dallas Cowboys.  Not good.

At halftime, I head to my seat in 334.  Despite the cool view from the ramp way in the North End Zone, I remember that during the Cardinals loss at home last season, I kind of wandered around the stadium too, and never got situated at my seat.  I figured that this was my punishment for not being a part of my fellow 12th Man for the game.  Once I get to 334 though, and once the game gets underway in the second half, I start to wish that I had stayed in my spot by the ramp way.  What I saw was quite disturbing.  Cowboys fans littered all over the section, but that's not even the worst part.  The worst part was seeing my fellow Seahawks fans sitting down on 1st and 2nd down's while the defense was on the field!  People would rise to their feet on third down, but that's what every fanbase around the league does, we're usually better than that.

How could this have happened, I wondered.  Well, this explained tickets being so expensive on the secondary market.  Apparently, all the diehards stayed at home or couldn't make it for one reason or another, and decided to cash in on their tickets for triple the face value.  That usually equals more opposing fans and Seahawks fans who can afford $200 tickets in the upper deck.  I can, barely, and that's for one person.  What about the average Joe dad who wants to take his kids to the game?  Sorry, not this one pops.  The working class Seahawks fan had been squeezed out of this one, the heart and soul of this team ripped from it's chest.  You just know that the players picked up on the lack of energy, and there were times in the second half where Richard Sherman and company were bouncing around, trying to do anything to get the home crowd hyped.

All of the positive energy, and relentless noise that helped earn a Lombardi Trophy months prior, were replaced by entitled fans who bemoaned every Seahawks failed attempt at making a play, as if they expected a Seahawks blowout because they dropped serious coin on attending.  It doesn't work that way, unfortunately.  We had a bunch of people who wanted to watch a victory, and celebrate one, but it appeared that most in attendance didn't know what was required of them as a member of the 12th Man in order to help the team achieve victory.  Hopefully, the occurrences of the next several minutes will ensure that the seasoned diehard's return to their seats.

And those occurrences that I just referenced weren't pretty.  Despite once again scoring the first ten points of the second half on a muffed punt that set up a Russell Wilson rushing touchdown and a fumbled snap by Tony Romo that led to a field goal, the Cowboys stuck with their game plan and came roaring right back.  While the Seahawks appeared to be content with empty sets and having Russell Wilson wing the ball all over the field, with little to no success while neglecting Marshawn Lynch entirely for certain parts of the game, the Cowboys rode the horse that got them to their sparking 4-1 record, DeMarco Murray.  Murray consistently gashed the 'Hawks when he needed to most, and Tony Romo continued to stand tall in the pocket and make all the throws he had to, a la Philip Rivers in San Diego in Week 2.  Once again, the Seahawks pass rush was invisible to the naked eye, and the Cowboys had made it a 23-20 ballgame just like that.  However, after a vital holding penalty, they were now faced with a 3rd and 20 and the game seemingly on the line.

With Bruce Irvin closing in on Tony Romo's blindside, Romo pulls his best Russell Wilson imitation and spins away from the hit, steps up in the pocket, evades Bruce Irvin's lunging efforts again, and fires a rifle down the right sideline.  Miraculously, Terrance Williams is a) able to get open over 20 yards downfield on a 3rd and 20 and b) tap both of his toes in bounds before falling in a heap on the Cowboys sideline.  Seahawks fans argue that he didn't get his feet in, but it was clear when it happened that he did and that it was a fantastic play by Romo and Williams.  How was Williams able to get open 23 yards downfield?  We'll never know.  I suddenly have flashbacks to Gus Bradley's soft zone coverages down the stretch in numerous games in 2012.

That was the game changing play right there.  DeMarco Murray would go on to finish the drive in impressive fashion with two excellent rushes, one of them for a touchdown that gave the Cowboys the lead with under 5 minutes to play in the 4th quarter.  Cowboys fans everywhere rejoice as Murray's crosses the goalline, the crowd reaction a disturbing reminder that this was not a typical day at the office at the CLink.  Having burned a bunch of timeouts throughout the 2nd half, the Seahawks were faced with having to march down the field with no timeouts and time running out.  No problem, we've got Russell Wilson!  Or so we thought.  After some lousy execution on 1st, 2nd, and 3rd down gets the 'Hawks offense nowhere, a recurring theme throughout the day for a struggling unit, the 'Hawks go for it on 4th down deep inside their own territory and fail to convert, fittingly on this day.

Still, they manage to hold the Cowboys to a field goal and hope still remains as the score is now 30-23 with 1:09 left to play.  We've still got Russell Wilson, and I'll always believe in Russell's ability to do the improbable.  This would have been one of those moments.  However, clearly some of the other fans in attendance didn't feel the same way, as droves of people head for the exits to beat the traffic, I guess.

What followed was to be expected.  Two plays into the Seahawks last ditch drive, Russell's pass floats right into the waiting arms of a Cowboys defender and the game is sealed.  A few kneels and the Cowboys legion of fans begin the celebration.  I was sitting next to a Cowboys fan, and luckily he was a pretty cool dude, one of the few humble Cowboys fans in existence on this earth.  Luckily, the way out of the stadium is a breeze since a ton of fans had already abandoned their team early, and all of the Cowboys were staying in the stadium and cheering their team on as they walked off the field.  My Seahawks beanie goes off to Dallas.  They came in to the lion's den when many people didn't give them a shot, and slapped the lion around and pounded the lion into submission.  It was yet another stinging, humbling defeat just like the one in San Diego weeks prior.

Still, I left the stadium with my head held oddly high.  This team, and it's fans, needed a real wake-up call.  Not one that we could blame away on the heat or some poor officiating, just a real proper whooping like the one the Cardinals handed them at the CLink last season.  The Seahawks never looked back after that loss, and while I'm sure there are more losses on the way for this team that's still struggling to find it's identity on offense and defense, you just have to believe that everything is going to be alright.  No matter how dejected any fan is, they'll never take it harder than this group of players and coaches will, and that's what makes this team special.  They are human, as they are proving this season especially when it comes to their depth which doesn't seem as impressive as it did last year, but they'll outwork anyone and I fully expect them to play a better game in St. Louis verse the Rams.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that years ago I wouldn't have been able to handle this loss.  I would have been distraught, devastated.  My entire week would have been ruined.  Now, I understood that losing was a necessary part of life and some of life's greatest lessons can be learned in defeat, so long as you gave it your best effort.  This team tried their hardest but awful play calling, horrendous execution, miserable crowd support, mounting injuries, and despicable officiating combined to lead to their downfall.  Also, an outstanding effort from the Dallas Cowboys who proved that they just might be legit.  Don't get too excited Cowboys fans, you all know that in the back of your mind you could see this ending in another depressing 8-8 season.  No doubt, they look legit, but it's not how you start but how you finish, as Pete Carroll would surely attest to.

With my head held high I head back to Temple Billiards to commiserate with my fellow 12th Man after a rough day at the office.  Most agree, even members of the Blue Thunder band, that the crowd didn't have the juice on this day, and neither did the team.  Most also agree that Pete Carroll and his coaches would get this figured out, and quickly.  They would have to, or else they'd risk losing ground in the treacherous NFC West, as well as the race for the always important homefield advantage.  My hopes for homefield took a huge hit after this one, but there's a sick part of me that wants to see the Seahawks win a Super Bowl in New York Giants fashion, being road warrior's and slaying opponents in their own house and ending their dreams of taking away our championship from us.

Damian, the doorman at Temple, and I chat about the Seahawks, Sounders, and life.  FC Dallas scores a last-ditch winner at home against the LA Galaxy and the place livens up a bit.  This win means that the Sounders remain in first place, probably the only good thing to happen to Seattle sports over the weekend.  Yes, I refuse to acknowledge the Washington Huskies and their accomplishments.  That's what being bitter rivals is all about.  It's okay Dawgs, the Cougs dropped another one and now need to win 4 out of 5 to even get a chance to Coug It in another bowl game.

Despite an awful sports weekend for yours truly, I leave Temple for the LightRail with a smile on my face.  Good times, with great people, and great conversations were more important than a Seahawks victory in October.  Especially when I still knew deep down in my heart that everything was going to be alright, and the Seahawks would still win the Super Bowl in improbable fashion.  I make my way to the airport, which would be my free hotel for the evening before my flight back home in the early morning.  SeaTac is actually a pretty comfortable place to sleep, and there's something cool about seeing weary travelers sprawled out in whatever position they can manage to find some bit of respite.

I guess if I was being honest with myself, complacency had set in. This wasn't just a reunion tour to try and relive the amazing memories of last year. Those were a part of the past now, a beautiful past, but the past indeed. Instead of trying to replicate last season, just like the team I would have to adapt, make the necessary changes, and realize that this year was different. Different circumstances, different trials and tribulations, and different experiences. I no longer wanted to just be happy to be along for the ride again. I needed to find that hunger that was so present last year.