by Chason Gordon
- The Capitol Hill Times -
Before I get to the article, don’t you think that Peyton Manning looks like a Canadian Mountie? Picture him on a horse wearing a buttoned red jacket while chasing fur trappers. Do you see it? It’s not an insult. I wish I looked like a Mountie, and not like a mall cop.
Sing with me! “We are the champions, my friends / dum dum dum / And we’ll keep on fighting ’till the end / dim doom dum / We are the champions, we are the champions / No time for losers, ’cause we are the champions, of the world.” Man, that’s a good song. It really captures how we’re the champions and others are not the champions. They, not being the champions, are the losers, and there really isn’t time for them, you know? We’re all booked up with being champions. That shit keeps you busy.
It’s been a long wait, Seattle. Not for me. I only moved here a few years ago and wasn’t even aware of the Seahawks when I lived in Canada, but other people have been waiting a long time (that’s called empathy). Having been so close in 2006, and starved for a major sports victory, Seahawks fans were anxious to finally reach the mountaintop and avoid feeling like Buffalo Bills fans (that’s totally unfair, nobody will ever feel A like Buffalo Bills fan).
Did you notice how disappointed the rest of the country was that we won? They reacted like a team from the Canadian Football League somehow won the Super Bowl. There were maps showing total Bronco support everywhere but the Pacific Northwest. That hurts, rest of country. We’re going to remember that the next time you need a place to crash in Seattle, and you can certainly kiss that free express shipping from Amazon goodbye.
The rout was astonishing. Play after play, fans around me yelled in excitement and disbelief. In the midst of it all, a representative from Skittles (it could have been a crazy person) walked into the bar, and the song “Dreamweaver” suddenly played in my head, as I watched her in slow-motion handing out Skittles to everyone (I got three bags!). When she left, I ran out of the bar after her and yelled, “Wait! I don’t even know your name! I won’t forget you, Skittle lady, I won’t ever forget you!”
Maybe I should post a Missed Connection on Craigslist. “You: Skittles lady handing out Skittles. Me: Guy eating Skittles. Did we have a moment? And do you have any more Skittles? Answer the second question first.”
What was really disappointing about the victory was the lack of chaotic rioting. There were no cars turned over, no stores looted, and no Broncos fans tarred and feathered. You call that a celebration? Would it have killed someone to unscrew a fire hydrant, take a baseball bat to some parking meters, or play keep-away with a cop’s baton?
As I overheard one very drunken man say, “It’s not a Super Bowl celebration until somebody’s been arrested.” He had the right idea. To be fair, I did see some ragamuffins in Ballard carrying around a detached stop sign, though I’m not sure how that relates to the Seahawks.
Yes, today is a new day, Seattle, though you could say that about any day, I suppose. I meant it in a metaphorical sense. The air seems a little fresher, food tastes a little better, and the sun is shining like it’s nobody’s business. Seattleites are feeling more confident than usual, and while many are still staring at the ground as they walk, the angles aren’t as steep. That’s certainly an improvement.
We are world champions, dammit. Sure, we only played American teams, but no other country could assemble a roster good enough to defeat the Seahawks. You heard me, Finland, and don’t even start with me Albania.
The question now becomes: can we repeat that next year? But the more important question is: what do I do with myself until then? After an evening of ecstatic joy and frivolity, I returned to my car the next morning (no drunk driving here!) and felt a great void and uncertainty, more so than usual.
I don’t know what to do now! There are some Redbox movies I need to return, and a couple of bills to pay, but man, I have no idea what to do after that. What do people do? Do I get a hobby? See my family? I had this Seahawks narrative keeping me warm, and now I have to find meaning elsewhere. What a jip.