Will Travel for Fandom

Although it’s true that Rob and I travel a fair amount, it’s always planned and intentional and anticipated. I often say I can be spontaneous with two weeks’ warning.

It is also true that while we continue to slowly inch our way up the waiting list for the waiting list for Seattle Seahawks season tickets (yes, there are two lists), Rob and I excitedly attend one Seahawks game in person each season.

It’s always a super fun day as we don our blue and green, take the train up and back, and yell our fandom with over 60,000 other enthusiastic 12s (Seahawks fans are called “The 12^th Man” or “12s” in honor of being an additional player on the field – we are notoriously loud enough to cause penalties because visiting teams can’t hear play calls).

This season, though, got away from us. With some home repair (not all of it planned…stupid termites) and a sick kitty and general distraction, we never got around to picking a home game to attend. And by the time we realized this, the Hawks were doing so well, tickets for home games were elu$ive.

Jolted by a realization that we can currently travel more spontaneously since we are heartbreakingly kittyless, I started looking at away games. I have long wanted to attend a Seahawks game as a visitor, curious about the experience of being a football outsider. I assumed that meant an eventual visit to San Francisco (49ers), Los Angeles (Rams), or Arizona (Cardinals).

Consulting our calendar, there was one remaining away game that lined up. It was a bit further afield than assumed. After checking frequent flyer accounts and hotel loyalty club balances, I floated my inspiration to Rob.

“What do you think about going to the Seahawks-Panthers game in a couple of weeks?” I slyly asked. Yes, I was reveling in my insane spontaneity.

Within minutes, we were checking flight schedules to see if this crazy idea might actually work.

Several days, lots of miles and points, and many disbelieving giggles later, we had a list of confirmation numbers to prove we were actually going to fly to North Carolina for a football game.  WHO ARE WE?!?

Their mascot is named Sir Purr.
ADORABLE! But not enough
to buy any swag.

The trip was fast and focused. We flew to Charlotte on Friday, visited some newly relocated cousins near Hickory on Saturday, cheered our hearts out in Section 544, Row 9 on Sunday, and flew home on Monday. Our bodies still don’t know what time it is.

My first cousin's daughter and family
(one twin still sleeping). So first cousin
once removed. Or, more appropriately,
Chloe.

As we traveled, I was a little concerned that I didn’t see any other 12s making the trek. Were we going to be lonely voices cheering on Darnold and Smith-Njigba?

Oh, silly naïve me!

Plenty of 12s showed up! But most flew out of Seattle instead of Portland. And few likely finagled a complicated (but free!) itinerary on two separate airlines along the way.

Our hotel – as planned – was within easy walking distance of Bank of America Stadium. Its lobby was increasingly peppered with Seahawks jerseys and t-shirts, especially during the complimentary Wine Social Hour. Conversations started quickly and easily.

Swagged out and ready to cheer!

We met a couple from Mexico City who flew in for the game. They lived in Seattle years ago and became 12s. They were later enthralled by a movie set in Charlotte and longed to visit someday. Their trip to see their beloved American Football team in the enchanting Charlotte was a perfect year-end getaway.

We met a man who bought Seahawks season tickets when the team was still in the Kingdome and the owners were trying to build a fan base. “Yep, bought 4 tickets for $100 each 39 years ago,” he bragged. He was rewarded handsomely with my awe and jealousy.

We met a couple who had lived in Seattle but recently moved to Tennessee. Wife is a HUGE Seahawks fan so they travel to lots of away games. Anticipating other away games someday, I asked about her Visitor experiences. She recommended avoiding San Francisco. “I do not like those fans!” she explained with a story about a sober Faithful throwing food at her Seahawked self as she walked through the parking lot.

When asked about her favorite rival fanbase, the woman said “The Titans [Tennessee]!” without hesitation. She then revealed she was the fan that Wide Receiver and Superstar Jaxon Smith-Njigba had given a touchdown ball to a few weeks prior. “All the Titans fans around me were so excited and happy for me! They even wanted to take pictures of me and the ball!” The shared excitement peaked later in the game when the woman happily exchanged the game ball for a practice ball signed by Jaxon himself. I was in awe yet again.

I remembered this moment from the game!
So cool to meet her!

I wouldn’t be surprised if that nice woman ranked the Panthers fans up there with the Titans revelers. All the fans we encountered were kind and polite, without throwing any food or insults our way despite my wearing vivid green Seahawks gear all weekend. North Carolinians wished my team good luck, “But not too much!” Others shared their tables as we munched hot dogs and told us to enjoy the game. Others asked where we were from and complimented the Seahawks as a good team. Simple, courteous, friendly fans acting like grown-ups. Yay Panthers fans!

On Chloe's recommendation, we
stopped here for my love of all
things pickles. I blended right in. 
Sort of.

On Game Day, we walked to the stadium in a sea of sky blue and black. The dark blue Seahawks jerseys blended in a bit, but the neon green highlights revealed their loyalties.

I packed mostly green gear on purpose.

I was surprised to hear a familiar chant as we turned onto S. Mint Street.

“SEA!!!” one voice boomed above the crowd.

“HAWKS!!!” replied a surprising number of proud, scattered voices.

I joined in for a few chants and then got self-conscious, much to Rob’s relief.

The weather forecast for Game Day changed wildly. At one point before I packed, it was going to be 76 degrees and sunny (much like Saturday turned out to be). When I packed, it was to be high 50s and sunny. What we got was 46 degrees, foggy, and drizzly. We fortunately packed somewhat appropriately. A scarf would have been nice, though.

“Your weather here is menopausal!” I laughed with the bundled Panthers fan next to me in Seat 8. She agreed with shared understanding.

“I almost didn’t come this morning when I saw the weather. It’s too cold!” Indeed, she left after the briskly damp first quarter and never returned. Which bummed me out because she and her friends had been a nice windbreak.

I overheard a local say with confidence
that the upper deck is 10 degrees colder.
I believe it!

Although we were not sitting on the Visitors side, we had a smattering of 12s around us. Almost all were transplants, now living in North Carolina and holding tight to their 12ness. Except for the guy in front of us. He explained he was a Panthers fan for his marriage’s sake, until it mattered for the Seahawks. The couple sat together without incident for the entire game. He also went a long way to helping us 12s have a good Visiting Fan Reputation as he quickly offered his towel when a new neighbor showed up and discovered how wet the plastic seats were up in the Fog Zone.

Tatupu played with the Seahawks from
2005-2010. This fan goes back a ways!

The game started in a completely unexpected fashion. Before the national anthem was sung and the mascot appeared on the field and a notable (to them) Panther fan of some sort banged on a large drum as smoke erupted (the Panther rallying cry is “KEEP POUNDING!”), an unassuming middle-aged man with a piece of paper and a microphone approached the end zone. With silence in the stadium, the man prayed for the players, the fans, and our nation. It wasn’t super religious, but it ended with a collective “Amen!” so it was clearly a prayer and clearly a tradition. I wasn’t troubled by it (I often pray during games – always for injured players), but it certainly caught me by surprise!

I was stunned how quiet the stadium
got as soon as he started speaking.

They chant "KEEP...POUNDING!"
They bang on the plastic seats to make
noise. I mused to Rob, "I wonder why the 12s
don't do that?" He replied, "They don't need to."
Truth.

The first half of the game was a bit dicey. It was tied at 3 points at halftime. The slippery ball and field had made for some messy, fumbly plays. Everyone had had reasons to cheer and groan.

But as has been the pattern all season, something magical happened in the locker room. The Seahawks emerged with a renewed plan, insight, and energy. The Panthers fans mostly cheered about getting first downs. The Seahawks fans mostly cheered about getting points. Seahawks fans cheered all around the stadium! And I could hear them, even way over there and closer to the field.

“SEA!!!”  “HAWKS!!!”

My best guess, given my pretty good vantage point, is that about 20% of the fans in attendance were rooting for the Seahawks. They were scattered around the stadium with a concentration on the lower deck behind the team’s sideline. Those fans seemed to be the loudest – and fans who attend home games know how to be loud and let the team know they are there. My cheering voice was not lonely. At all.

12 behind us and in front of us. 
A few more scattered about in 
Section 544. Oh, and we were COLD.

With a little less than 4 minutes left in the game – and a score of 20-10 Seahawks – my peripheral vision caught some movements. Looking towards the crowd to my left, I saw a constant sea of Panthers fans streaming towards the exits. Every row, all around the bowl. I was astounded.

“The fans are leaving?!? With time still to play? Does this happen often??” I asked the group of congenial Panthers fans sitting next to Rob.

One guy just shook his head, as disappointed as I was. While apologizing for his choice of words, he explained that Panthers fans are…wimpy (not his word but a good, family-friendly approximation).

As we discussed the difference in fan bases, the “SEA!!!” “HAWKS!!!” chant echoed noticeably around the stadium. While not as loud as in Seattle by any stretch, the cheering and encouragement for the Seahawks made it clear that the 12s had shown up and shown up well. I was proud to be one of them.

Mass Exodus.
Maybe the prayer was foreshadowing?

As dedicated fans do, Rob and I stayed until the end of the game, sharing disbelief that the Panthers lined up in the (not a) Victory Formation on their last possession. The Seahawks got the ball, appropriately lined up in the Victory Formation, and ended the game to audible cheers with a 27-10 win. Proximate 12s gathered at the visitor exit and cheered loudly as the players headed to the locker room. Had I been closer, I would have eagerly joined them.

The game isn't over! But look at how
empty the stadium is!

Leaving the stadium was oddly familiar. As Rob and I wound our way down the ramps from the upper deck, the “SEA!!!” “HAWKS!!!” chant bounced off the cement walls, just like it does while leaving a home game, win or lose. It made me smile and proud to be part of such an energetic fanbase.

That night at dinner, still boldly wearing our team gear, other 12s didn’t hesitate to come to our table, give high 5s, compare fan stories, and share in the excitement of now being 13 and 3 and the current leader in the NFC West. It was a wonderful feeling of community.

And that’s probably what I will most fondly remember about being a Seahawks fan at an away game: the community.

It is easy to feel a part of a movement when we attend a home game. Most of the passengers on the train are 12s, Seattle is awash in blue and green, Lumen Field bursts with enthusiastic fandom. It’s an instant family and it is easy to feel a part of it.

But being on the other side of the country, wearing the other team’s colors, sitting amongst locals with delightful accents could have left me feeling very outsider and interloperish. It’s what I expected.

Instead, I felt even more a part of the 12s family than even in Seattle.

Without saying a word, all of us sporting Seahawks gear knew we had at least a few things in common – a shared loyalty and the confidence to proclaim it. We were friends even if we didn’t speak. We knew the family traditions and we brought them with us. We were a community.

At times during the game, I wished we were sitting with the larger concentration of 12s down by the team sidelines. It was certainly lively down there! But if I had been down there, it would have felt more like a home game and I would have missed out on the best part of being a visitor. That unexpected and heartwarming feeling of being connected to so many scattered strangers, all sharing a common passion.

SEA!!!  HAWKS!!!

So grateful for experiences like this!
And frequent flyer miles. Super
grateful for those, too.

 

More officially a 12th Man!

If you’ve been following Woodhaven Ramblings for a spell, you might remember that benchmark day back in January 2014. Just days before the NFC Championship game, I dumbfounded my mother by officially abandoning the 49er Faithful for the blue and green 12th Man bandwagon of the Seattle Seahawks. It was a well-considered decision, I promise.

Free duster mitts that are much better used as pom poms

I’m grateful my Bay Area friends are still speaking to me despite our differences. On the heels of yesterday’s reportedly unwatchable performance by the Niners, one stalwart friend and fan rebuffed my invitation to join me in my support of the Seahawks with this retort: "Um, no. I think I'd become a fan of professional cricket before that happens. But, thanks for the offer." Yep, Faithful indeed. I like that.

Yesterday’s Seahawks game, on the other hand, was completely and utterly watchable. Like from some pretty awesome seats near the 20-yard line at CenturyLink Field. Yes, it’s true: Rob took me to a Seattle Seahawks game!!! Live and in person!! With hot dogs and everything!!

We decided to make a weekend of it, it serving as the very best Christmas and Birthday gift combo pack EVER. We took a very relaxing, nap-infused train ride about three hours north on Saturday afternoon. We mastered Seattle’s public transit system to get to our hotel and then had a fabulous dinner with one of my most favorite people, Zeke. The restaurant was a bit crowded so our yelling conversation was a good warm-up for yesterday’s required chatting volume in the noisiest stadium in the country.

Prior to yesterday, I had only been to two professional football games in my life, both featuring the aforementioned Gold Miner people. The second game almost doesn’t count because it was a pre-season game populated with players I had never heard of. Parking was a snap, though.

The first game was in the early ‘90s in December. As we left our Bay Area apartment complex that morning, we noted that the decorative fountain outside the office was frozen. With our seats in the top deck of Candlestick – a venue that required parkas for summer baseball games – I really don’t remember much about that 49ers game other than my being a frozen stick with arms that moved up and down to deliver hot chocolate to my mouth. I also remember my team lost to the New Orleans Saints. I still don’t like them. Yes, I can carry a grudge.

Yesterday we came a little more prepared. We had many layers of clothing, a rain poncho, baseball hats to shield the rain, a towel to wipe off wet seats, and dry clothes to change into so the 3 hour train ride home would be a bit warmer and less cranky.

Much to our surprise, rain drops were minimal and our dry clothes stayed tucked inside our suitcase (yay for baggage storage at the train station!). Although we did get a bit chilly, the 69,000 other fans around us served as nice wind blocks. And the excitement kept us warm, too.  No hot chocolate needed this time!

Yes, Rob's hat is epic.  And warm.  He says it was very warm
and pretty much the only way I was able to convince him to wear it.

See?  Epic.

Wanting to get the Full NFL Experience, we arrived at the stadium about 2.5 hours early. It made going through the bag check process super easy – no waiting! I had done my homework and had my official post 9-11 Era NFL sanctioned plastic bag with dimensions no greater than 12” x 6” x 12” visibly toting all the essentials (camera, phone, Kleenex, credit card, Chapstick, ear plugs).

Toting my regulation bag like a pro

Later, a super nice security person showed me how to fold and display the bar codes on our tickets inside our bag to make the scanning even easier. With her tip, I felt like a season ticket holder instead of some interloper squatting in the Balmers' seats for the day (we don’t know them, we just thank them for going to Mexico and wanting to sell their tickets. Relatedly, people, lock down your Facebook profiles. Honestly.).

We meandered all around the stadium and then went into the connected Event Center which basically looked like a convention of Seahawks fans. It was awesome!!

As we entered about 2 hours prior to game time.

There were lots of photo ops and booths handing out free goodies. There were several sports talk radio shows broadcasting live from the venue. Several areas had large TVs for watching other teams in action. There were games and face painting and contests and cell phone charging lounges and Seahawks Swag booths. The only thing missing was some Tempur-Pedic beds.

Almost like being on a cruise ship!

Richard's not as tall as I imagined

Making sure Richard behaves himself

As we wandered around, I truly felt like I was a member of a culture, a community, a tribe. Every direction I looked was slathered in blue and green. Although I didn’t break out of my introverted shell, I know I could have struck up a conversation with any person there and we would have had at least one love in common.

My Seahawks Swag was pretty mainstream compared to these SuperFans

It wasn’t just the attendees either. The love and Seahawk Spirit extended to the security staff, the souvenir vendors, the food booth folks. “GO HAWKS!” ended most interactions. Much more fun than “Have a nice day.”

Done exploring and eating and shopping, we found our seats in time to get situated for warm-ups. Players and trainers from both teams littered the field. Without pads or jerseys, it was hard to tell at first if I was watching any names I knew.

Then Michael “Ooops, Another Penalty” Bennett jogged past us in navy track gear and enormous gold-plated headphones. If it weren’t for that Sony-NFL sponsorship deal thing, it would have been a great Beats by Dre commercial.

Then we saw Pete Carroll, the head coach. I know people have definite opinions about him from his days at a certain southern California college, but I have something of an affinity for Pete. I remember when he was on the coaching staff of the Niners back in the mid-‘90s. He also went to my high school (though long before I did), so somehow I feel like Pete and I are buds.

Did you have Mr. Bachelder for math, too, Pete?

Rob then pointed out a young kid throwing the football around. He was short and small compared to everyone else on the field. “Maybe he’s somebody’s son who gets to play on the field with the big guys,” I thought.

Asking for the largely unused binoculars, Rob confirmed his suspicions. “Yep, that’s Russell Wilson.”

Russell Wilson!?! The quarterback?!? That little kid out there in baggy sweatpants running around with the adults was WILSON, arguably one of the best quarterbacks playing in the NFL?!?

Yep, the more I watched him and then saw his face, it was indeed him. Teeny tiny Russell. I had no idea how much weight and bulk those pads add. Note to self: never ever wear football pads.

The warm-ups took about an hour. I kept looking around, wondering where all the fans were. The stadium looked pretty empty. Maybe since the Seahawks were favored to trounce the Cleveland Browns people weren’t planning to show up? Hard to believe, but then again that’s how we managed to get great seats without having to mortgage our house.

At least he didn't leave surprised

And then, much like the Katy Perry concert I dragged Rob to last year, the people came. 69,002 in total (Rob and I are claiming the 2). And nearly every last one of them sporting some sort of fan gear. Truly, I think I might have seen maybe six unspirited fans not paying their Official NFL Merchandise tithe.  Sinners.

Full house!

We had been warned that CenturyLink Field would be loud. And it was. But we never did put in our earplugs. While we both had good hats protecting our ears, we never felt like the decibels were getting dangerous.

Chatting later with a season ticket holder at the train station, he offered that the crowd was a bit subdued compared to many games. No seismic readings this time. So that is why our ears aren’t ringing today. Nevertheless, it was absolutely the noisiest sporting event I have ever attended.

The game lasted a little over three hours. No need for overtime. The first touchdown was by the Browns. The stadium was very quiet.

But all the rest of the TDs (3 more) were courtesy of the Seahawks. YAY!!!! Lots of cheers, screams, high-fives with strangers, fireworks off the top of the stadium. Minus the scampering cats, not all that different from our celebrations at Woodhaven really.

As much as I had worried about the back-friendliness of our seats, it ended up being wasted worry (like so much worry actually). The only time I actually sat down was during time outs and commercial breaks. Otherwise I was on my feet clapping and yelling. So really, we didn’t so much pay for the Balmers’ seats as the concrete in front of them.

I absolutely loved watching the game in person. I loved the energy of the crowd and the shared experience of many thousands of rabid fans. It was surreal to see my favorite players in person, life-sized, right in front of me. Rob is skeptical but I have no doubt that my favorite Richard Sherman looked at me and smiled.

This is right before he smiled at me and waved back

I even enjoyed the slurring swaying entertainment of the drunk guy in front of us. Wasted on IPAs instead of Bud, he was a Pacific Northwesterner through and through. Yes, the Full Football Experience.

There were a few downsides to the live, untelevised action, though.

For example, I couldn’t follow the ball nearly as well on my own without the TV camera crew guiding me. That Wilson is quite an accomplished faker.

I also missed the TV commentary to help me understand the game better. Rob knows football very well and he always answers my questions with depth and clarity. However, I realized yesterday that the TV commentators often answer questions I don’t know I have so I end up learning more.

I was also surprised by how much rest the players actually get between plays. It never really occurred to me at home that during commercials the players might just be standing around, relaxing, sipping water, laughing, discussing the next play, agreeing that candlesticks make nice wedding gifts, etc. Don’t get me wrong – these guys are all extraordinary athletes. I just didn’t realize they had a few more opportunities to catch their breath than what is presented on TV.

Richard behaving himself and chatting nicely with a ref during a commercial

I think the thing I missed most, though, was seeing what was going on on the sidelines. Our seats were on the visitors’ side and I really didn’t care about what the Brown were doing when they weren’t on the field. On the other side of the field, it was hard to see what Pete and the boys were doing…especially since they were all dressed in dark blue and sort of mushed together.

I missed seeing the facial expressions of players as calls or plays were made. I missed seeing Pete Carroll smile and “atta boy” Wilson after touchdowns. And I especially missed seeing my favorite cheerleader, Richard Sherman, pumping up the offense and giving props to his fellow defensives when due. One of the reasons I like Sherman so much is his passion. Although I could see it on the field, I missed seeing it on full display on the sidelines, too.

As we chugged our way home on the train, dry and happy and still glowing from a 30-13 win, Rob and I agreed that would we love to try to make this an annual thing. Maybe not a full weekend, but at least a full day of train and game and all things Seahawks.

Attending a game in person made me feel just a little more part of the family, a little more of a fan, a little more of a true 12 despite my years rooting for a different team.

Sorry again, Mom.

Almost as amazing as seeing the players in person was seeing
this Elton John impersonator that I always see on TV
True 12 all the way

12th Man Faithful

I have never been a very sportsy person. I never played a sport in school, I loathed PE, and I was actually pleased in 5th grade when I broke my wrist because my cast meant I got to do my homework during recess. Score!

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.

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?

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.

Gnome more, really, I'm sure of it

When Rob and I bought our first house, I was characteristically giddy with thoughts of nesting and decorating and making the house Ours.

As we discussed various ideas of how to make our expansive yard (compared to our apartment's deck; I mean, it had grass and everything!) feel cozy and inviting, Rob jokingly suggested garden gnomes.

Horrified, I replied, "NO GNOMES!"

I reminded him of this proclamation every time we wandered through Orchard Supply Hardware in search of things like hoses and lawnmowers and trash cans.

When Moving Day finally arrived (we rented back to our sellers for a few months), I bought a little housewarming gift for Rob and outfitted it with a sign. It greeted Rob when he opened the door on our first day of Home Ownership. Given my decree, I knew he wouldn't expect it. I thought it perfect for one-time humor purposes only.

Vintage 1994 with a fuzzy sign that reads "We're Gnomeowners!"
The sign is in a scrapbook and the gnome is currently on a bookshelf
between a photo album and a book about New Zealand.
It's a place of honor, really.

I promised and vowed it would be our only garden gnome.

About 12ish years later happily ensconced in Woodhaven, we were loyal fans of TV's "Amazing Race." It remains the one show we agree on and during which no book, internet, magazine, or newspaper reading takes place by either one of us. That's a big deal in our TV watching world.

One of the show's primary sponsors is the travel website Travelocity.com. Its mascot is a garden gnome with a British accent. The gnome is prominently and entertainingly featured in all commercials. A replica of the gnome is often incorporated into at least one leg of The Race each season. Contestants usually carrying him with care through a foreign country, perhaps taking him kayaking or rappelling down a waterfall. It is one of the most brilliant examples of product placement ever.

Rob is tricky to buy gifts for. Although he keeps a Wish List of books and CDs populated, I always like to go off-roading a bit and surprise him. So one year I decided he needed an "Amazing Race" Travelocity Roaming Gnome, conveniently for sale on the show's website. We quickly named him Phil, in honor of the TV game show's host.

At first Phil lived outside in our flower beds -- a true garden gnome -- and randomly changed locations to peer into different windows. Rob and I amused each other quite a bit with that little hobby. Then the "Amazing Race" season finale aired and we (ok, I) thought Phil would want to come inside and watch it with us. He has been in our living room ever since.

Phil making sure the speaker doesn't blow over

So that's how we got to own two gnomes despite my assurances. Both for humor purposes only, mind you. But that was it. No more. I promised.

Then a few years ago, one of our neighbors posted a picture on Facebook of her new garden's adorable guardian. I loved loved loved it and immediately asked where she got it. I zipped down to the local store only to find she had purchased the very last one. I looked online and in other stores without success. Two more gardening seasons passed and I still couldn't find it. I'm sure you can imagine my despair.

I mentioned my fruitless search to Rob at the beginning of this summer, and in that mystical way that he has exhibited over the years, he found one. I Google my heart out for months or years without success and with merely a mention, voila -- Rob finds the elusive bounty. Be it a Snoopy Rain Slicker or a Martha Davis CD or...a garden gnome riding a tractor. It is witchcraft, I tell ya.

A winter project will be determining if I can John Deere-ize his tractor a bit more

In my defense...sort of...Rob was the one who brought Tractor Gnome into the family. Apparently my glee at such things is irresistible. He is now guarding the dryer vent. The gnome I mean, not Rob.

So three gnomes. But gnome more, honest.

But then...

Just a few months later, in a frightening development, a friend directed me to a news story about a gnome being stolen from a garden in Seattle and taken on quite an adventure. It was returned a year later with an accompanying photo album documenting his travels. My friend no doubt thought of our Travels with Piglet when alerting me to the story.

However, the focal point of the story for me was not so much the traveling gnome as that there exists such a thing as a Seattle Seahawks Gnome! SCORE!

Having jumped on the Seahawks bandwagon just in the nick of time before last season's playoff game against my once-beloved 49ers, I naturally got right to Googling.

After quite an ordeal involving two vendors, refunds, apologetic gift cards, and phone calls at 8:00am on a Sunday morning, today this guy finally joined the It's Not A Collection gnome ensemble:

Currently in possession of the football and the satellite radio antenna

Please let it be known that I am NOT collecting garden gnomes! Did you read that Mom and Dad? Really, I'm not. It's just, well, each one of these called out to me in that very quiet but mischievous way that gnomes do. But I am certain there will be no more gnomes at Woodhaven.

NO (more) GNOMES!!

You have my word.