For most of America, Superbowl Sunday had a stellar performance by Bruno Mars and his merry band of contractually-obligated mimes, but was otherwise a yawn-fest. For Coloradans, it was embarrassing to see their supposed #1 offense look like a group of “stoned teenagers” against the Legion of Boom. But for us Seattleites, it brought us together in a city-wide euphoria that we’re certainly not used to – in no small part because we haven’t had a pro men’s national championship since 1979, brought home by a team no longer even ours. In just a few simple lyrics played all over the city since, here’s how it felt:
While Drake may have started anywhere but the bottom – both as the son of a showbiz pro and in a Canadian teen drama – the Seahawks certainly did. After they lost their first Super Bowl appearance due to some of the most controversial calls in history, their team fell apart in 2006. Coach Pete Carroll put them back together with a ragtag bunch of (now-famous) draft rejects, a move that earned Carroll an “F” by sports analysts in 2012. Now, those Mighty Ducks are all charismatic pop-culture icons and world champions in their mid-20’s, many of whom make under $1 million a year – including one of the most charitable players in the league. They also pay homage to their record-breaking fanbase whenever possible – as they did at the parade.
As we recovered from Sunday’s polite-riots, 700,000 of us converged on a 24-degree downtown Seattle this Wednesday, with my crew getting our spot at 7a.m. Our boys rode the “ducks” (WWII-era amphibious boat-cars now used for tourism) down 4th Ave as a ski-masked “Beast Mode” himself threw us Skittles and MVP Malcolm Smith flashed everyone the Lombardi. Perhaps a big reason why our fans are loud enough to affect game plays (and piss off 40-whiners) is that our players show so much appreciation. Or that together we can cause earthquakes.
As for the man who penned the inevitable Super Bowl anthem, we can argue endlessly about whether Macklemore is humble or manipulatively self-serving, a good example to our kids or preachy and pandering, etc. One thing’s for certain – discerning Seattleites are more sick of him than you are, since he’s been doing his same thing here for several years before he broke nationally. More importantly, he inserts himself without consent into every fucking Seattle landmark and institution. It’s only a matter of time before the space needle has freckles and a ginger fade. He may have beaten his codeine addiction, but his thirst for attention and Seattle-approval is unquenchable.
Or so we’d come to expect. Shockingly, while “Can’t Hold Us” was played at the CenturyLink Field ceremony, Macklemore did not perform. He let the actual team soak in their day with the 12th Man, for once just letting it all happen without making it about his brand. If you don’t care about football or Seattle, that should be even more inspirational the the story of our 2013-2014 Seahawks. So instead, we blared the Queen classic over our make-shift block parties on Sunday night and out of the ducks’ speakers Wednesday morning.
Ah, shit, now we have to get back to real life.