The closest I ever got to being on a team was when my 7th grade boyfriend let me wear his Little League hat as a sign of coupledom. Then later in high school, my best friend and I were the "chain gang" for the football team. We worked the sidelines and moved the 10 yard markers around. We only did it for the community service credits required for the honor society. The fact we were surrounded by hunky football guys was an unexpected and delightful...if not slightly stinky...bonus.
Despite my lack of interest in playing sports, I did learn to appreciate watching them. My dad did a great job trying to explain rules of football and basketball and baseball. We lived in the San Francisco area and I have many happy memories of eating hot dogs and chocolate malteds while my dad explained why Willie McCovey was doing this or Vida Blue was doing that.
During the 1980s, the San Francisco 49ers became a family favorite. My mom developed something of a crush on Joe Montana and I owned a red jersey or two. We all enjoyed watching the team dominate year after year. Later, when I got a job at a Very Large Oil Company, I was thrilled to be able to have a perfect view of the Super Bowl victory parades (yes, plural) from an office down the hall.
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| 1994. The 49ers fifth -- FIFTH -- Super Bowl win. As it should be. |
So we were a 49er Family and I was proudly among the Faithful.
But things slowly changed.
I married a sports nut of sorts, but as he became more interested in fantasy football than the real stuff, my dedication to watching games trailed off. And then we moved to the Pacific Northwest, where the 49ers were shockingly rarely in Portland's news and none of my new friends seemed interested in them. I was, however, surrounded by crazy Seattle Seahawks people. Crazy, passionate, and exceptionally welcoming. Yes, I believe I was being groomed. And it worked.
Just a few days before the 49ers played the Seahawks for the division championship in January 2014, I decided to make a break for it. I had done some research and I found I was really impressed by the Seahawks quarterback and what he stood for both on and off the field. I didn't get those same warm fuzzies about the 49er QB.
I also saw the 49ers and their fans so adeptly reflecting the cosmopolitan, high-tech, somewhat affluent culture of my past life in California...while the Seahawks and their fans felt more scrappy and authentic and communal like I have found my new life at Woodhaven to be.
Much like when we decided to leave California, I realized that I didn't belong with the 49ers anymore. They were no longer my people. Rooting for them felt like I was clinging to the past. I decided it was time to fully embrace my new life in the soggy mossiness of Washington. So I switched loyalties, trading the red and gold for the blue and green. And for the record, I look much better in blue and green. See?
My mom is on Facebook. She has two friends -- me and Rob. She never comments or likes anything; she is just there to lurk behind the scenes to keep up with us. In fact, only once in the six years she has been on Facebook has Mom posted a status:
"No No No!! Tell me it ain't so!!! (posted by your mom -- a forever 49er fan)."
Subsequent emails lamented along the lines of "Where did I go wrong in raising you?!?" and "You were the perfect child...until this." So, yeah, it's been a bit of rocky 16 months of representin' the 12th Man as my mom waves her red and gold arms all around in exasperation and disappointment.
Rocky and very odd, actually.
When I started rooting for the Seahawks, I was not surprised at all that they ended up going to the Super Bowl...and winning it. Because that's what I grew up with. My team was always in the playoffs, often in the Super Bowl, and frequently came home with that silver football trophy. That's just how it worked.
When the victory parade was being announced in Seattle after the Super Bowl win, I was sort of surprised by all the hysteria even 150 miles away. People were going nuts! I had friends who drove 3 hours to stand smushed up against fellow fans to yell and scream congratulations. It was as if the Seahawks had never had a Super Bowl parade before! Oh, wait. Right. They hadn't. My bad.
I had a passing thought of going up to the parade, too, but actually said out loud, "That's OK -- I can go next year." Because that's how rooting for a NFL team is -- you root for them and they win Super Bowls back-to-back. Right?
My certainty in Seattle's continued dominance amused Rob. "You have no idea how spoiled you were being a 49ers fan back then." True enough.
So it was with some incredulity that I watched My Team struggle the first half of this past season. I dutifully had their game schedule in my calendar and wore team colors to church on game days. I slowly accumulated all sorts of Seahawks paraphernalia including shirts, sweatshirts, drinking glasses, sneakers, nail polish, jerseys, hats, and gnomes. I was shocked when they traded Percy Harvin, and I enthusiastically started following Richard Sherman on Facebook. I mean, I was ON IT. I was fully supporting my team so they should be winning. Duh. Why did they not understand this?
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| My Seahawks support was predestined. Nevermind that this photo was taken 8 years before the team even existed. |
And then, in the true Second-Half Team fashion that is becoming their legacy, the Seahawks turned it around in the second half of the season and earned a revisit to the Super Bowl in The Most Exciting Football Game I have ever watched. YAY! The comeback against the Packers was breathtaking. I actually high-fived Rob as we went to overtime. I have never high-fived anyone in my life for anything sportsy. THAT'S what sort of fan I am now.
I lost count how many times I watched a highlights video of that championship game. At the end of each viewing, I always felt a little bad for the Packers fans. I mean, they all but had the game won and then it just slipped away without any warning. Their dreams dashed. I could only imagine how they might have felt. Poor Cheeseheads. Only imagine, mind you, because my Seahawks had dominated and were going to the Super Bowl AGAIN and were going to win AGAIN. Because that's how it works when you support a football team, right?
It's been nearly two weeks now and I still don't really want to talk about it. I know explanations have been offered why they decided to throw a pass on that last play instead of running it with Mr. Skittles. But I really can't bear to relive it.
I honestly wanted to cry as that Patriot swooped in for an interception. And I remained in a dejected funk for several days afterwards. I didn't want to see, read, or hear anything having to do with That Play.
But I continued to sport my blue and green manicure and my array of Seahawks t-shirts. Partly because I really couldn't believe my team had lost, but mostly because I realized I was charting new territory with my fandom. I needed to prove to myself that I really am not just a fair-weather fan despite always having sunny skies any time I've cheered for a professional football team.
And so now I have a little better idea what it truly means to be a fan. It's not just about the tchotchkes and team gear...although those ARE critical. And it's not about always winning, because that's apparently sort of unusual. Being a true fan is about still clapping when things go sideways. It's about staying at the game until the end. It's about cheering your losing team when they get off the plane because you still respect who they are and how they play. It's about having every hope that they'll win another Super Bowl without feeling personally affronted if they don't.
See how much that one play in that one game has taught me? I'm a much wiser, more mature fan now, right? I'm just grateful I didn't decide to become a Detroit Lions fan. Although their blue and silver team colors are quite lovely, I don't think I could bear to learn all that being their fan would teach me. Oy.
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