My friends and I have gone into the mountains on snowshoe trips the last several Sundays, which normally would not be much of a News Flash because we go hiking most every week, all year ‘round. These last hikes have been noteworthy, however, because they have absolutely gone against the cultural grain of the part of the country where we live.
My friends and I have been oddballs, you see, misfits in Pacific Northwest society, because the trips have taken us away from television sets and thus we have not watched every single minute of The Most Important Moments in Seattle Sports History, the three National Football League playoff games won by the Seattle Seahawks.
Weirder still, my friends and I were snowshoeing last Sunday, the day most human beings in the civilized world refer to as Super Bowl Sunday, the day Seattle’s Seahawks played (and completely dominated) the Denver Broncos.
Our region has been so over-the-top nutso about the Seahawks that fans here have been labeled “The Twelfth Man,” or “The Twelves” (a football team has 11 athletes on the field) and even Seahawks players say they are amazed and inspired by the outpouring of adoration. A huge flag with a “12” on it flies from the top of the Seattle Space Needle, and most cars have bumper stickers featuring the Seahawks logo and a “12.”
I actually saw a reader board in front of a church that had this message: “Jesus had Twelve Men. Go Hawks!”
Anyway, the pictures I’m posting today are my chronicle of Super Bowl Sunday: Lotsa fresh, beautiful snow, on a good day to spend outside.
I might add that, here on the West Coast, the Super Bowl ran late enough into the afternoon that my friends and I were able to do our hike, drive down off our mountain and head into a funky mountain town bar, still in time to blend in with the assembled locals and watch the second half of the game.
I didn’t actually check, but I’d be willing to bet there were Seahawks fans in that bar who were celebrating the big Super Bowl win by downing 12 beers.
