"I Change by Not Changing at All"

I came out to Seattle for a friend's wedding this weekend, and, as usual, someone else's big day semi-forced me into self-examination. People around me are growing up, some people I care deeply about are drifting away from me, while other friends, new and old, surprise by showing how much they care about me. The brother who was a month old when I was dropped off at the Fairhaven dorms will be 17 this month, and wants to go to Western like I did (or UW.. but I'm rooting for WWU).

Change scares the living fuck out of me, which is one reason I hold my (admittedly one-sided) relationship to the Seahawks dear. As R.E.M. sang once, "oceans fall and mountains drift" in my life, but every weekend from September to (hopefully) February, I know there will be a Seahawks game to watch. While the outcome of the games are not predictable, the routines around the games are. I need this.

Even though I was never a Sonics fan, it breaks my heart to see what Supes partisans have gone through... because I know that my connection to my Seahawks is more than just an occasional outlet for barely-veiled male hostility, or an excuse to get fucking hammered. It's not just an interest or a hobby; It's emulsified into my personhood, second only to my loyalty to my wife, children, parents, and friends. You could change my social status, my nationality, even my gender, and I'd be able to piece together "this is who I am." Take away the Seahawks, and the whole rickety jenga pile that is my psyche could easily collapse.

So this connection needs to be maintained and renewed constantly. I worked out my travel plans to hit the VMAC last Thursday, and I came away duly impressed (all the pics are up on flickr). The facility is amazing, the setting is beautiful, and the energy is palpable. My very weak criticisms are mainly that it seemed easier to interact with the players in Cheney, and that the contemporary Hip-Hop soundtrack got a bit monotonous (but I'm a 35-year-old ofay, so who gives a fuck what I think?).

What stood out to me were a couple of isolated moments of negativity... One "fan" near me on the fence line loudly and openly bleated his desire to see Deion Branch grievously injured, mainly because he's been a disappointment since we traded to get him from New England.

Of course Branch hasn't been all we hoped he'd be, but what kind of a spiteful, ignorant, dick-breathed fucktard wishes ill upon on a Seahawks player like that? Even if you don't like a player, shouldn't you wish he stays healthy and plays well? Wouldn't that either A) help the team win or B) increase said player's trade value? As Patton Oswalt once said to a heckler, "you're going to miss everything cool and die angry."

Same thing goes for grown-ass adults who feel entitled to autographs from players at training camp, and spit curdled rage at Seahawks who don't pay appropriate homage to them through penmanship... It was great that Golden Tate came over and signed stuff for folks like my little brother, but if he hadn't, I wouldn't have blamed him. I want him to play well, help the team win, and ideally not be a shitty human being. Whether or not he signs for people doesn't really affect any of those three things I just rattled off... Twelves who choose to be indignant that players would rather go shower after a grueling practice session than scribble illegible blurbs on trinkets REALLY need to rethink their priorities.

I'm sounding like a pissy brat, but overall it was a great experience. As practice ended I got pleasantly accosted by a fan of the blog and by another Seahawks/Red Sox hybrid fan who noticed my Boston cap. If Tamara from Canadian Seahawkers is reading this, I officially confer upon you "dope" status... keep holding it down for the Twelve Army and Red Sox Nation up in Vancouver, m'lady!

Time for me to get some shuteye before flying back east on Monday... If you're interested, I'm also selling my tickets to the Packers game on eBay.