Debacle in the Queen City

Hello It’s Me.

It is I, actually, is What I Meant to Say, but when I find my grammatical exactitude Getting Out of Hand, I try to make like Elsa and Let It Go.

It's good to Be With You again. I've been Waiting For You.

So, I've posted about Everything this week except last Sunday Morning's loss to the Bengals.

Never fear, faithful reader: I'm All About You. I'm Here Right Now. You can Call On Me. I Will Take Care of You. All I've Got to Do is give you Some Truth and then I'll Set You Free.

Don't get me wrong. I live in the Real World. It's Not Like You spent the week Lost at Sea or Under a Cloud, Watching the Sky, Walking Down Your Street, Standing in the Hallway, Sitting Still or Restless In Your Room, raging about the Silent Treatment you were getting from Seahawks Diehard on the Cincy game, thinking It's Lonely Out Here and wondering Where Were You When I Needed You?

I am Grateful that you are Following this blog. I realize that no one expects to find anything but Second Hand News about the Seahawks here.

Before we get into the meat of the game, Tell Me, have you ever noticed that some NFL talking heads can't pronounce the name of the Cincinnati mascot? Troy Aikman, for example--who provided color commentary during last week's broadcast--always says "Bangles," which makes me laugh every time, because it conjures up a host of incongruous associations.



I suppose I should explain the tardiness of this Post. Despite the holiday, it was a Manic Monday for me--I'd just returned from a Grand Adventure on the east coast and it proved impossible to fit in Everything I Wanted: I had to catch up at work, update this blog and my new history blog, spend time with the Ball N Chain and my Darling One, and make sure my Good Son made it to ukulele practice. I already had a clear idea of what I wanted to write about the Bengals game, but I had to Save It For Later. What a Life.

Six days after the fact, it's hard to think of Something New to write, but perhaps I can help you see the loss In a Different Light. There was certainly More Than Meets the Eye there.

The main lesson I drew from the contest was that We Belong; The Kids Are Alright. Seattle is Falling, but we're not Free Fallin'.

I have Unconditional Love for the Seahawks, but I fully expected them to Crash and Burn in Cincinnati. Having barely handled Detroit at home, I didn't think we stood a chance against the undefeated Bengals This Time in an east coast game with a 10:00 AM kickoff, especially with Beast Mode on the bench.

The Hero Takes a Fall every time we visit the "Queen City." We only play the Bengals once every four years, and Lynch almost never misses games, but the Kid sat out in Cincy four years ago, too. Maybe He’s Got a Secret crush on Marvin Lewis, or a Sweet and Tender Romance with the Sweetheart of the Sun Andy Dalton. Perhaps he can't decipher the Mixed Messages and choose Between the Two. On the other hand, Beast Mode marches to the beat of a Different Drum; he is a Complicated Girl--not like those September Gurls--and If She Knew What She Wants, she'd realize that Angels Don’t Fall in Love. Just remember, Marshawn, I'm in Line. Couldn’t I Just Tell You? I'm Weak with Love. Stuck in the Middle with You. You're So Vain; you know I can't resist your Big Brown Eyes. Girls Talk, but They Don't Know about us, yet, and we should keep it that way. Our Lips Are Sealed. All I Need is for you to Picture Me on your arm One Day. That's OK--I know I'm not much to look at. On second thought, You Can Close Your Eyes. Anyway, if you just say the word, I can be Single By Choice. I’ll Never Be Through with You. Are you Made of Stone?

So Much for Love.

I honestly did not expect Seattle to show up as well as we did. When Cincinnati's first drive bifurcated our defense like a hot knife through butter, I thought we were finished. But Coach Carroll and Kris Richard adapted--most notably by letting Richard Sherman cover A.J. Green every play--and Seattle defenders made me Open My Eyes and gave us Something to Believe In. 

After that initial drive, the Legion of Boom Mesmerized, reminding us that Some Dreams Come True. Seattle defenders effectively contained the Bengals until the fourth quarter, forcing several punts, two clutch turnovers and four sacks of the Red Rocket. Earl Thomas III ended Seattle's interception drought; it was a shame that his electric pick return got erased by Michael Bennett brutalization of Dalton. (The only part I didn't like was that Bennett started with a block in the back. Everything else was legit. It's No Kind of Love, but when a quarterback throws a pick he becomes just another defender, and you can block him.) Big Michael redeemed himself later with a forced fumble to set up Bobby Wagner to Go All the Way with a scoop and score.


At first, it looked like the Seattle offense might hold up their end of the bargain. At the outset of the game, I thought I must be Dreaming, because we were moving the ball. In the first half. We haven't done that all year. The O-Line came to life, providing solid run blocking Baby Beast Mode Thomas Rawls. It was the first time all year I didn't find myself missing James Carpenter.

Alas, neither unit resembled an Eternal Flame; the offense stalled after the first half, and the defense faded in the fourth quarter and failed in overtime. 

Was it painful? Indubitably. That's Why Girls Cry, and boys, too, if they're Seahawks fans. Even six days later, I Wanna Be Sedated. Blowing a 17-point lead makes you want to Tear Off Your Own Head, Lay Yourself Down for a depressed nap, or go all Bell Jar and stick your head in the oven.

But it's not so bad that I Need a Disguise as a Seahawks fan.

It is becoming increasingly hard to believe that This Will Be Our Year. Maybe Those Days Are Over. Perhaps the Glitter Years are behind us.

I am convinced, however, that we can be More Than This.

I look at winning teams--especially the undefeated ones, and wonder, How Is the Air Up There? It is crowded at the top of the NFC, with two undefeated teams and two one-loss teams likely to lock up three of the four divisions and One of Two wild card spots. A lot can change between now and the end of the season, but Seattle needs to start winning now if we hope to have a shot at the second wild card slot or--if Arizona stumbles--the division crown.

How Soon Is Now? Tomorrow. In our house. This Is the Place. I’ve Seen All Good People/Your Move, 12th Man. I See the Rain in my mind's eye, Raining, drenching Carolina's hopes. I would bet Everything I Own on us winning tomorrow, but I won't.

When the November Sun shines on this team, will we still be in contention? What about when The Warmth of the Sun fades and a Hazy Shade of Winter descends on the hemisphere?

Our offense is so two-dimensional, I almost expect to see our players Walk Like an Egyptian with hieroglyphic word bubbles floating overhead, telegraphing offensive coordinator Darrell Bevell's vanilla calls to our opponents.

Unless Bevell aspires to be the King of Tragedy, he needs to make a change. I've been preaching it here for months: get DangeRuss out of the pocket on some designed runs and rollouts. 

Even the Eyes of a Baby could see that asking Jimmy Graham to block is pointless. Catching passes is his Happy Place and his Only Love.

I'm not Holding My Breath, but winning is Always Enough.

All the Young Dudes need to be Willin’ to pull it together. Sometimes I wish the Seahawks would think about their mothers at critical junctures during games and psych themselves up to Make a Play For Her Now. The Seahawks need to spread their Enormous Wings and take flight. All I Want is that the Boys Keep Swinging for the fences.

By the way, I would love to see more dialog on this blog. I'm not the kind of writer who says, Ask Me No Questions. Your comments are always welcome. Just take the time to respond or share Something That You Said.