The Super Bowl has come and gone and Seattle could not be happier with the outcome. Many of those were fans who never cared a bit about the Seahawks up until three weeks ago, but then went to town buying all things blue and green, staying up till the wee hours of the night crafting and making preparations for the big day, tweeting about it, instagramming, facebooking, and flying their 12th man flags high. They were ready to watch their home team win their first Super Bowl and they went insane when their dreams came true.
But then there were some of us who were not doing those things. There were a small number who had high hopes of watching an exciting game that would end with the Broncos celebrating a victory. I was one of them. Yes, I took crap for it. “You live in Seattle! How can you not root for the Seahawks? That’s awful,” people would say.
Here’s the deal.
I was born in Colorado. I moved around a bit as a kid, but spent much of my childhood living there. I can’t think of a better way to say it than, it’s in my blood to root for the Broncos. I’ll be the first to say that I’m not the biggest football fan and I have probably missed more games on TV than I have seen. I have never owned a jersey, never cried over a lost game (I left that to my brothers), and I can’t name every player on the team. But it’s in my blood.
I spent every weekend with my family cheering on the “Orange Crush”, even if we sometimes had to wait for the TV to warm up. We watched Elway lead his team to five Super Bowls, rejoicing when they won and comforting each other when they didn’t. I was watching Bronco games when the three amigos didn’t only refer to the hilarious movie about three actors trying to shoot a motion picture, but to Ricky Nattiel, Vance Johnson, and Mark Jackson. I regularly witnessed two of my brothers shout for joy and hold each other when Denver prevailed and go to bed crying, asking God why, when the game didn’t go our way.
I’ve lived in Seattle now longer than any other city so some would say I should root for the “home” team. That seems reasonable except for one thing. I can’t shake that feeling of cheering on the orange and blue, my original “home” team. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s in my blood.
