Something is Beautiful and True

I've been going to Seahawks games since I was 8 years old, and I've been lucky enough to go to at least one home game almost every year since 1983. Aside from the dark times of the Behring years, professional football in Seattle has consistently been a strikingly intense experience.

I've been to NFL games in half a dozen stadiums outside Seattle, and none of them had an atmosphere that even approached the Kingdome or Qwest Field. It's not just the noise- Under the Nordstrom and Allen regimes, ownership has also been aggressive about providing a great environment for Seahawks fans. Fans in Denver or Kansas City might have good reason to disagree, but you'd have a hard time convincing me that there's a more exciting fan experience in the NFL than what we enjoy 8 times a year at Qwest Field.

One of the many things I'm thankful for today is that I get to be right in the middle of the Qwest Field Maelstrom on Sunday. I get to see old friends and fans of the blog at Touchdown City... I get to go down to field level and see the players up close... I get to feel the chilly air coming off Elliott Bay... I get to add my voice to the din assaulting Matt Cassell and the rest of the Chiefs' eardrums... I'll get to see another Seahawks win, and be part of the throngs chanting "SEA! HAWKS!" on the ramps after the game.

I'll be at the game with my little brother, who I've been taking to games since he was 10- Particularly since I live 2000 miles away now, these days I spend with him watching the Seahawks taken on additional significance (side note: He's a junior in High School, and plays football for Kamiakin out here in Kennewick- They play Capitol in the State 3A semi-finals here in the Tri-Cities Saturday- Go Braves!). In a few years, I'll start taking my own kids to Seahawks games, and hopefully the chain will continue unbroken...

When you strip everything else away, what is most intoxicating about a game at Qwest Field? What makes me so excited about returning to my seats above the south end zone? It's the fact that when I'm screaming my guts out this Sunday, I'll forget all of the nasty little things about adulthood, and go back to being an 8-year-old, and believing that anything is possible.

GO SEAHAWKS! (and Happy Thanksgiving)