A Fans View From Seattle
| December 18, 2017 10:26PM |
October 10, 2004, I posted for the first time on this board.
I had lurked for years, always appreciating the higher level of knowledge and commitment shared by the many fans on this board. But on that day, I just had to share what I was feeling. I had earlier sat through 3.5 quarters of a serious beat down in Seattle – the score 27-10 seahawks with a little over 5 minutes to play
I was catching flack from everyone around me, laughter, pointing, shouts of “SCOREBOARD!”, the lame SEA – Haaawks chant.
Being the hardcore fan that I am. I sat and took it. The fans were relentless.
Then something amazing happened.
With 5:12 seconds to play, the Rams mounted what would then be the 2nd greatest comeback in NFL history stealing the victory in overtime when Shawn McDonald caught a 52 yard pass from Bulger just minutes into overtime.
The piñata with the Ram hat sitting amongst these fans for 3 hours suddenly became their worst nightmare. Never had more smack run from my mouth then occurred that beautiful afternoon. Verbal diarrhea spewing from me like a person who had earlier drank a gallon of gutter water from an open sewage in Kabul Afghanistan.
The walk down from the upper deck was amazing. Stunned seahawks fans everywhere, heads shaking, unable to wrap their minds around what had just happened.
There is an image forever etched in my mind after that game. It was of Isaac Bruce, defiantly throwing his helmet on the field and pointing to it.
Three months later I would return (1/8/2005) for an encore in the wildcard round with Cam Cleeland catching a late Bulger pass for a go ahead TD and the Rams stopping the hawks near their own goal line as they furiously tried to send the game in overtime.
I remember DL Bill Kolar running around the field with a broom yelling “SWEEP” as the Rams beat them three times including the wild card round.
Unfortunately, 2004 would be the last spasm of a dying team.
We snuck into the playoffs, stealing a win against the 9-7 seahawks before getting utterly pummeled by Alan Rossum and Michael Vick in ATL, another game I had the unfortunate privilege of attending.
What had been an amazing little run was really the end of an era.
It was the GSOT’s last stand.
But it was over.
The following years, not only was there a changing of the guard, Seattle turned out to be a slaughter pen for the Rams.
I had the misfortune and being at some doozies.
Spags first game a 28-0 debacle. The Sunday night Clipboard Jesus loss for the division and a handful of others.
We slipped into the dark ages.
Seattle would win 13 of the next 14 games.
Seattle was not a fun place to visit and, on top of all that, they acted the role of the bully. The fans talked junk and quickly entered the pantheon of my most hated rival fans.
So this year, when our team finally seemed to turn the corner and we faced the hated Hawks in LA, I was ready to rip this team apart . . . . then disaster!
The way the first game went down in LA to the Seahawks churned up just about every bad feeling there was. 5 trips into the Red zone and get 3 measly points. Todd Gurley reaching to the Pylon only to have Earl Thomas strip it away for a TOUCHBACK, the second time he did that to the Rams in 3 years (He got Benny at the goal line in 2014).
Cooper Kupp’s sickening drop which would have won the game.
It churned some serious hard feelings for us all.
But unlike years past, many here knew it should have been different.
Go back and read the posts here after that Seattle game in LA.
Most of the people on this board saw it.
We should have blown those fools out --- but instead we got an “L” which, many weeks later for our re-match had us sitting on a possible 7 seed if everything broke bad since Seattle would have a series sweep on us. And since only 6 teams make the playoffs, the notion of a 7 seed was kind of sickening.
But for whatever reason, as I arrived in Seattle, I wasn’t worried.
As we cruised around my kids were fixated on a giant ferris wheel that they absolutely had to ride. As my family and I took the wheel around, you could see Century-Link in the distance.
It looked big and ominous at first.
But then I had to crush it with my fingers!!!!
It was time to inflict some serious pain!
Occasionally, whether it be through divine intervention, hallucination, speculation or just dumb luck, as a fan we are gifted with a vision about something special going to happen. Whether it is foreseeing a pick six coming, a big return or a game which you just KNOW is going a certain way.
That is how I felt about this Seattle game.
I wasn’t alone.
On October 25, 2017 Ramgator posts the following: “Something I want to see ALMOST as much as Playoffs! !!! Three weeks ago STILL irritates me! I want us to go up there, kick Pete THE WHINER Carrol in the butt and hear crickets among the 12th man! PAY BACK IN SEATTLE!!!!
To which I replied: I’ll be there Ramgator – To watch the dismantling of the Seahawks. Yes, its going to happen.
[ramsrule.com]
Similarly, when someone mentioned them losing Sherman to a ruptured achilles, I posted “Too bad. Don’t want the seahawks to have excuses when we B itch slap them in Seattle.”
[ramsrule.com]
Six weeks ago, when someone said they Hawks could have been 3-4, I posted “I agree. If we are who I think we are we are going to take them apart”
I arrived in Seattle with a lot of confidence.
Despite losing a heartbreaker to the Eagles, that game - long term - may have actually paved the way to the big dance. I thought of it as a reverse Trent Green scenario.
Though I think highly of the Vikings and Eagles, I just don’t see former Rams Foles and Keenum leading either team to the big dance.
So during the early morning hours of game day, I watched the players get on the team buses from the Hotel.
The team seemed serious, but loose.
Many of the players acknowledged the handful of fans that were hanging around the Grand Hyatt watching them load up.
Normally, I say a word of encouragement or two. But remained silent.
The scene was subdued. A few police providing security and about 20 onlookers watching wearing ram gear. It was early and quite quiet.
Then I saw Coach McVay get on the bus and take a seat near a window not far from where I was standing.
The windows were tinted so you could only make out outlines of the people.
Coach appeared to be looking out the window.
I couldn’t resist.
“RIP THAT F****ing Crown of their G**da**ed heads COACH!!!
I see the outline of a thumb up in the window.
All was good.
On to the stadium.
When I arrived, I quickly took my place in the tunnel and found my nemeses Robert Larson.
I refer to him as “Bob”
Bob is a HARDCORE seahawks fan.
He wears a Number 1 Jersey with "OUR HOUSE" on the nameplate.
I give Bob a lot of credit. He does his homework. He knows how to push buttons. He sits in the tunnel like I like to and talks smack to the opposing team, their coaches and support staff.
He received a lot of notoriety when he sued a Jets player who had had enough of him and launched a giant snowball at him following a loss in Seattle.
[www.tmz.com]
I’ve been talking smack with Bob for years.
I see him and I immediately start in. Normally, I don't say things unless someone says something to me. Bob is different. I attack Bob.
“Hey Bob, why didn’t they just hand off to Lynch in the Super Bowl man?”
Come on Bob!
“That’s got to hurt still doesn’t it Bob? Not as much as that snowball but really that has to smart still doesn’t it Bob?”
I am always sure to repeat his name at the end of each sentence like Peppermint Patty does with Charlie Brown, calling him “Chuck” at the end of each sentence.
Bob was holding a sign that said, “Rookie Coach, Clueless QB, No Players”. He was yelling and getting the attention of many of the rams players (he is hard to ignore).
I told Bob that I had a sign that said “Rams House” and if he was still there after the game, he could take a picture with my son holding it up.
Bob was about to give a response when I see Coach Carrol moving into ear shot talking to some media type while standing on the white paint of the end zone.
He is about 20 yards away and there are literally hundreds of people milling about on the field. I turn away from Bob while he was getting ready to say something . . . .
I yell in my loudest voice “CHEATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Pete Carrol immediately looks up and directly to where the sound was coming from. We lock eyes.
I yell: “How did you know I was talking to you Coach?”
He quickly turns away.
I turn to Bob – “Your cheating coach doesn’t have his head in the game Bob!”
"Could I have gotten to him with a line like that a few years ago Bob!?"
"The Old man, rest his soul is slipping Bob!" (Yes, I was referencing Solazzo from the Godfather talking about Vito Corleone).
“I’ll be here at the end to hear your excuses Bob.” “You stay here in the corner Bob, I’m going to sit in some decent seats”
“See you at the end of the game Bob.”
What unfolded over the next few hours was simply a thing of beauty.
I’ve been to a lot of epic regular season games including one of Ramgator’s top 3 – the 1985 Monday Night Game against SF that we won 27-20.
This immediately reaches that height in my book.
While our offense wasn’t hitting on all cylinders immediately, it was clear from the gate that our Defense was here to play.
After the rams only scored 6 points on their first two offensive trips, the fans still thought they had a chance.
When Pharoh Cooper broke the PR to the 1 yard line and Gurley punched it in to make it 13-0, you could see real bewilderment amongst the 12s.
When the Rams pitched it to Gurley at the end of the first half on 3rd and 20 in an apparent attempt to run out the clock only to see Todd running through a lane that looked like I-5 at 3 AM, you could literally hear GROANS!!!!!!
Then BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOS
It was freaking AWESOME. They were booing them like they were an 0-12 team.
I thought for sure I would be waking up.
34-0.
AT THE HALF!
I sent the following photo to Leafnose and Rampage 2k – both of whom I met for the first time the week before in LA though it seems like I have known them for years.
The caption: “Taste that s**t Mother*******!!!”
At half time, normally I stay seated but would I miss the opportunity to strut around the stadium with my ram gear on?
Are you kidding me?
Up I went, walking around in amazement at all the dazed Seahawks fans.
#12 jerseys, walking around like the guy in the Omaha Beach scene in Saving Private Ryan carrying his blown off arm in his hand. Wandering. Confused.
What a Blessing to be at that absolute BEATDOWN of THAT TEAM and THOSE FANS!
The vaunted 12th man started leaving AT HALF TIME!
I heard one guys wife in front of me tell her husband she was going to the bathroom and when she returned they were leaving!
I pretended not to hear and a few minutes after she left, I told my son in a loud voice – “You know, I have a lot of respect for the Seattle fans who are hanging in through this debacle. Those are the real fans. Those phony #12s that are leaving early, they are an embarrassment!”
I said it loud enough for him to hear.
When wifey came back ready to leave, Husband wouldn’t budge.
Husband anchored in and both were forced to watch to the end. All the while Hubby was catching flack from Wife.
What a wonderful day in Seattle!
I don’t know where this season ends, but the rewards keep getting bigger and bigger.
As the clock wound down, I told my son it was time to head back to the tunnel. As I got up, I whispered to Husband – “you did the right thing brother. Makes the winning more fun, I can personally vouch for that.”
So as I walked to the tunnel around the two minute warning to slap high fives with the players and have my son fly his RAMS HOUSE towel with Bob, I noticed that my gate had about an extra six inches of stride to it, I was walking taller – perhaps even gliding or levitating a bit.
The gray skies no longer seemed gray but an interesting metallic color.
The birds which swirled around the stadium appeared to be dancing.
I had no pain, no worries, no regard for the future.
Pure ecstasy.
“Where is BOB!” I shouted when I returned to the tunnel.
To his credit, Bob was there but he was pretty busy taking crap from the Rams players many of whom individually, including Aaron Donald, were stopping to say a word or two back to Bob on the way out.
“I understand Bob.”
“I wouldn’t want to take that picture on a day like this Bob.”
“Truthfully, I didn’t want you in it either Bob.”
As we walked away, I said “Bob, here is the one picture I want you to remember as you ponder the end of an era here in Seattle”
I pointed upward to the scoreboard.
Bob looked up:
Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 12/18/2017 10:49PM by stlramz.
I had lurked for years, always appreciating the higher level of knowledge and commitment shared by the many fans on this board. But on that day, I just had to share what I was feeling. I had earlier sat through 3.5 quarters of a serious beat down in Seattle – the score 27-10 seahawks with a little over 5 minutes to play
I was catching flack from everyone around me, laughter, pointing, shouts of “SCOREBOARD!”, the lame SEA – Haaawks chant.
Being the hardcore fan that I am. I sat and took it. The fans were relentless.
Then something amazing happened.
With 5:12 seconds to play, the Rams mounted what would then be the 2nd greatest comeback in NFL history stealing the victory in overtime when Shawn McDonald caught a 52 yard pass from Bulger just minutes into overtime.
The piñata with the Ram hat sitting amongst these fans for 3 hours suddenly became their worst nightmare. Never had more smack run from my mouth then occurred that beautiful afternoon. Verbal diarrhea spewing from me like a person who had earlier drank a gallon of gutter water from an open sewage in Kabul Afghanistan.
The walk down from the upper deck was amazing. Stunned seahawks fans everywhere, heads shaking, unable to wrap their minds around what had just happened.
There is an image forever etched in my mind after that game. It was of Isaac Bruce, defiantly throwing his helmet on the field and pointing to it.
Three months later I would return (1/8/2005) for an encore in the wildcard round with Cam Cleeland catching a late Bulger pass for a go ahead TD and the Rams stopping the hawks near their own goal line as they furiously tried to send the game in overtime.
I remember DL Bill Kolar running around the field with a broom yelling “SWEEP” as the Rams beat them three times including the wild card round.
Unfortunately, 2004 would be the last spasm of a dying team.
We snuck into the playoffs, stealing a win against the 9-7 seahawks before getting utterly pummeled by Alan Rossum and Michael Vick in ATL, another game I had the unfortunate privilege of attending.
What had been an amazing little run was really the end of an era.
It was the GSOT’s last stand.
But it was over.
The following years, not only was there a changing of the guard, Seattle turned out to be a slaughter pen for the Rams.
I had the misfortune and being at some doozies.
Spags first game a 28-0 debacle. The Sunday night Clipboard Jesus loss for the division and a handful of others.
We slipped into the dark ages.
Seattle would win 13 of the next 14 games.
Seattle was not a fun place to visit and, on top of all that, they acted the role of the bully. The fans talked junk and quickly entered the pantheon of my most hated rival fans.
So this year, when our team finally seemed to turn the corner and we faced the hated Hawks in LA, I was ready to rip this team apart . . . . then disaster!
The way the first game went down in LA to the Seahawks churned up just about every bad feeling there was. 5 trips into the Red zone and get 3 measly points. Todd Gurley reaching to the Pylon only to have Earl Thomas strip it away for a TOUCHBACK, the second time he did that to the Rams in 3 years (He got Benny at the goal line in 2014).
Cooper Kupp’s sickening drop which would have won the game.
It churned some serious hard feelings for us all.
But unlike years past, many here knew it should have been different.
Go back and read the posts here after that Seattle game in LA.
Most of the people on this board saw it.
We should have blown those fools out --- but instead we got an “L” which, many weeks later for our re-match had us sitting on a possible 7 seed if everything broke bad since Seattle would have a series sweep on us. And since only 6 teams make the playoffs, the notion of a 7 seed was kind of sickening.
But for whatever reason, as I arrived in Seattle, I wasn’t worried.
As we cruised around my kids were fixated on a giant ferris wheel that they absolutely had to ride. As my family and I took the wheel around, you could see Century-Link in the distance.
It looked big and ominous at first.
But then I had to crush it with my fingers!!!!
It was time to inflict some serious pain!
Occasionally, whether it be through divine intervention, hallucination, speculation or just dumb luck, as a fan we are gifted with a vision about something special going to happen. Whether it is foreseeing a pick six coming, a big return or a game which you just KNOW is going a certain way.
That is how I felt about this Seattle game.
I wasn’t alone.
On October 25, 2017 Ramgator posts the following: “Something I want to see ALMOST as much as Playoffs! !!! Three weeks ago STILL irritates me! I want us to go up there, kick Pete THE WHINER Carrol in the butt and hear crickets among the 12th man! PAY BACK IN SEATTLE!!!!
To which I replied: I’ll be there Ramgator – To watch the dismantling of the Seahawks. Yes, its going to happen.
[ramsrule.com]
Similarly, when someone mentioned them losing Sherman to a ruptured achilles, I posted “Too bad. Don’t want the seahawks to have excuses when we B itch slap them in Seattle.”
[ramsrule.com]
Six weeks ago, when someone said they Hawks could have been 3-4, I posted “I agree. If we are who I think we are we are going to take them apart”
I arrived in Seattle with a lot of confidence.
Despite losing a heartbreaker to the Eagles, that game - long term - may have actually paved the way to the big dance. I thought of it as a reverse Trent Green scenario.
Though I think highly of the Vikings and Eagles, I just don’t see former Rams Foles and Keenum leading either team to the big dance.
So during the early morning hours of game day, I watched the players get on the team buses from the Hotel.
The team seemed serious, but loose.
Many of the players acknowledged the handful of fans that were hanging around the Grand Hyatt watching them load up.
Normally, I say a word of encouragement or two. But remained silent.
The scene was subdued. A few police providing security and about 20 onlookers watching wearing ram gear. It was early and quite quiet.
Then I saw Coach McVay get on the bus and take a seat near a window not far from where I was standing.
The windows were tinted so you could only make out outlines of the people.
Coach appeared to be looking out the window.
I couldn’t resist.
“RIP THAT F****ing Crown of their G**da**ed heads COACH!!!
I see the outline of a thumb up in the window.
All was good.
On to the stadium.
When I arrived, I quickly took my place in the tunnel and found my nemeses Robert Larson.
I refer to him as “Bob”
Bob is a HARDCORE seahawks fan.
He wears a Number 1 Jersey with "OUR HOUSE" on the nameplate.
I give Bob a lot of credit. He does his homework. He knows how to push buttons. He sits in the tunnel like I like to and talks smack to the opposing team, their coaches and support staff.
He received a lot of notoriety when he sued a Jets player who had had enough of him and launched a giant snowball at him following a loss in Seattle.
[www.tmz.com]
I’ve been talking smack with Bob for years.
I see him and I immediately start in. Normally, I don't say things unless someone says something to me. Bob is different. I attack Bob.
“Hey Bob, why didn’t they just hand off to Lynch in the Super Bowl man?”
Come on Bob!
“That’s got to hurt still doesn’t it Bob? Not as much as that snowball but really that has to smart still doesn’t it Bob?”
I am always sure to repeat his name at the end of each sentence like Peppermint Patty does with Charlie Brown, calling him “Chuck” at the end of each sentence.
Bob was holding a sign that said, “Rookie Coach, Clueless QB, No Players”. He was yelling and getting the attention of many of the rams players (he is hard to ignore).
I told Bob that I had a sign that said “Rams House” and if he was still there after the game, he could take a picture with my son holding it up.
Bob was about to give a response when I see Coach Carrol moving into ear shot talking to some media type while standing on the white paint of the end zone.
He is about 20 yards away and there are literally hundreds of people milling about on the field. I turn away from Bob while he was getting ready to say something . . . .
I yell in my loudest voice “CHEATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Pete Carrol immediately looks up and directly to where the sound was coming from. We lock eyes.
I yell: “How did you know I was talking to you Coach?”
He quickly turns away.
I turn to Bob – “Your cheating coach doesn’t have his head in the game Bob!”
"Could I have gotten to him with a line like that a few years ago Bob!?"
"The Old man, rest his soul is slipping Bob!" (Yes, I was referencing Solazzo from the Godfather talking about Vito Corleone).
“I’ll be here at the end to hear your excuses Bob.” “You stay here in the corner Bob, I’m going to sit in some decent seats”
“See you at the end of the game Bob.”
What unfolded over the next few hours was simply a thing of beauty.
I’ve been to a lot of epic regular season games including one of Ramgator’s top 3 – the 1985 Monday Night Game against SF that we won 27-20.
This immediately reaches that height in my book.
While our offense wasn’t hitting on all cylinders immediately, it was clear from the gate that our Defense was here to play.
After the rams only scored 6 points on their first two offensive trips, the fans still thought they had a chance.
When Pharoh Cooper broke the PR to the 1 yard line and Gurley punched it in to make it 13-0, you could see real bewilderment amongst the 12s.
When the Rams pitched it to Gurley at the end of the first half on 3rd and 20 in an apparent attempt to run out the clock only to see Todd running through a lane that looked like I-5 at 3 AM, you could literally hear GROANS!!!!!!
Then BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOS
It was freaking AWESOME. They were booing them like they were an 0-12 team.
I thought for sure I would be waking up.
34-0.
AT THE HALF!
I sent the following photo to Leafnose and Rampage 2k – both of whom I met for the first time the week before in LA though it seems like I have known them for years.
The caption: “Taste that s**t Mother*******!!!”
At half time, normally I stay seated but would I miss the opportunity to strut around the stadium with my ram gear on?
Are you kidding me?
Up I went, walking around in amazement at all the dazed Seahawks fans.
#12 jerseys, walking around like the guy in the Omaha Beach scene in Saving Private Ryan carrying his blown off arm in his hand. Wandering. Confused.
What a Blessing to be at that absolute BEATDOWN of THAT TEAM and THOSE FANS!
The vaunted 12th man started leaving AT HALF TIME!
I heard one guys wife in front of me tell her husband she was going to the bathroom and when she returned they were leaving!
I pretended not to hear and a few minutes after she left, I told my son in a loud voice – “You know, I have a lot of respect for the Seattle fans who are hanging in through this debacle. Those are the real fans. Those phony #12s that are leaving early, they are an embarrassment!”
I said it loud enough for him to hear.
When wifey came back ready to leave, Husband wouldn’t budge.
Husband anchored in and both were forced to watch to the end. All the while Hubby was catching flack from Wife.
What a wonderful day in Seattle!
I don’t know where this season ends, but the rewards keep getting bigger and bigger.
As the clock wound down, I told my son it was time to head back to the tunnel. As I got up, I whispered to Husband – “you did the right thing brother. Makes the winning more fun, I can personally vouch for that.”
So as I walked to the tunnel around the two minute warning to slap high fives with the players and have my son fly his RAMS HOUSE towel with Bob, I noticed that my gate had about an extra six inches of stride to it, I was walking taller – perhaps even gliding or levitating a bit.
The gray skies no longer seemed gray but an interesting metallic color.
The birds which swirled around the stadium appeared to be dancing.
I had no pain, no worries, no regard for the future.
Pure ecstasy.
“Where is BOB!” I shouted when I returned to the tunnel.
To his credit, Bob was there but he was pretty busy taking crap from the Rams players many of whom individually, including Aaron Donald, were stopping to say a word or two back to Bob on the way out.
“I understand Bob.”
“I wouldn’t want to take that picture on a day like this Bob.”
“Truthfully, I didn’t want you in it either Bob.”
As we walked away, I said “Bob, here is the one picture I want you to remember as you ponder the end of an era here in Seattle”
I pointed upward to the scoreboard.
Bob looked up:
Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 12/18/2017 10:49PM by stlramz.
