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.
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