Yesterday I experienced the joy of having one of my best friends sob into my shoulder, producing liquid expressions of pure elation, midway through the fourth quarter. I made new friends, and I hugged complete strangers, lifting them off the ground. I walked through the streets of downtown Seattle, partying with quite literally thousands of twelves, who poured out of local bars and restaurants, all of us having been witness to something for the first time ever. The Seattle Seahawks are Super Bowl Champions.
The Seahawks have made us feel like we have been part of their run to the Super Bowl, and we have made the Seahawks feel like we have been key to their success. At this point is seems true in both cases.
There isn’t a lot of analysis I can offer to the game, between the flowing beer and tears, screaming fan base, and the test of load-bearing posts at the bar we were in (we were upstairs), I missed basically all of the audio from the game, and most of the nuance.
But congratulations, twelves. We did it. They did it. The Seahawks are Super Bowl Champions.