Who is the 12th Man?

Yes, I know, the 12th man is the Seattle Seahawk fan sitting in Century Link Stadium collectively screaming their lungs out making it virtually impossible for the opposing team to hear their quarterback bark out “Omaha”, “Kill”, “Oh My Gosh”, “Help Me” or whatever their choice audible of the day may be.  And, yes, I know, the 12th man is that Seahawk fan who has had season tickets ever since the first year the Seahawks suited up for a game, suffered through some really bad seasons, cried when they lost the Detroit Super Bowl to Pittsburgh and knew, in their heart of hearts, that this was going to be their year.

Yes, I know all that, but, the 12th man is much more than that.  Yes, those 12th men and women have waved their flags the longest, but they do not make up the totality of the 12th man.  No, in 2013/14, the Seattle Seahawk 12th man is much more than that.

The 12th man is my 10 year old, contrarian son who roots for whatever team is playing against the team I am rooting for unless it is the Seahawks – then we root together.  The 12th man is that guy who stands on the corner of Fosdick and Olympic Drives spinning the Great Clips sign who stops and talks to me about the Seahawks every time my dog and I go past on one of our walks –and has done so for twelve months now (I took that picture of him and Daphney on Super Bowl Sunday before the game).  The 12th man is those women in my neighborhood who bemoan football season; claim to be football widows; know who Bruno Mars is but did not know who Payton Manning is; but actually watched the game and asked all night long what a “safety” is and why did they get 2 points?  The 12th man is every checkout cashier who has asked me ever since Christmas Day, where I got that cool Seattle Seahawks jacket that Santa Claus brought me – “the North Pole” doesn’t seem to be the answer they were looking for.  The 12th man is my Rotary Club members who posed for a 12th Man photo after our Rotary Meeting the Tuesday before the big game.  The 12th man is all of us.  Long time fans; first time fans; and even non-fans caught up in the spirit of things.

In fact, just as that previous sentence suggests, the 12th man isn’t a person; it’s not a description of an individual - it is more than that, it is the “spirit of things”; it is pride; it is a sense of unity; it is a belonging; a longing; an essence of being a Pacific North Westerner in 2014.

The 12th man transcends boundaries.  The 12th man is what allows old fogey men (like me) to high-five young, tattooed, body pierced, rebel teenagers when a football is snapped past the ear of one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play the game.  The 12th man is what enables homophobes to hug the two married guys without fear of catching the “gay germ” when Malcolm Smith raced into the end zone with an interception.  Republicans cheered with Democrats … really!  Cougars and Huskies shared a beer in celebration.  The 12th man is that football widow wiping away the tear from her husband’s eye and, for one moment in time, understanding his love for this mistress.  The 12th man is all of you who have never once read a single blog of mine but are reading this now because of the title of this article.

The 12th man is all of us.  From Bellingham to Vancouver; from Walla Walla to Spokane – we are the 12th man.

I know, I know, I know – there are plenty of people who say, Seattle is not the 12th man – the 12th man belongs to Texas A & M.  But, that is ridiculous.  That is like saying that Romeo and Juliet is the only love story because it was the first one.  You can’t claim sole ownership of a feeling; an emotion; a sensation.  Call it what you want – the essence of what the 12th man means is fully in play here in Western Washington.  We are the 12th Man.  And you know what?  For the next twelve months, and longer if we can repeat, that also makes us the Champions.

Congratulations, Seattle Seahawks.  Congratulations to us all.  Enjoy the shared victory that helps bring us all together.

We are ... the 12th man!