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As you might have gathered from some of my previous columns, I’m a sports fan. Basketball is my first love, but there’s room in my heart for many others, including the one whose season is currently in full swing, American football. Since I don’t have any good, bus-related Halloween stories to share (well, except for the time I rode in full costume to a party on Queen Anne, and the time I dressed up as a bus driver), I’ve decided to go with an (also seasonally appropriate) football tale.
A couple of years ago, on a Saturday night during the height of Seattle’s Super Bowl run, a young man — we’ll call him 12th Man — got on the 2 full of Seahawks spirit.
“What about them Seeeeeeeeeeeeeahawks?!” he hollered at the bus driver in that accent peculiar to natives of this city. (Folks from the 2-0-sickness know of what I speak: the high-pitched, whiney tone; the randomly emphasized consonants; the s’s that sound like sh. In this accent, Seattle sounds like She-AT-o.) The bus driver ignored the question.
As 12th Man walked down the aisle toward the back of the bus, he asked the rest of us: “What about them Seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeahawks?!”
The few passengers on the bus so late on a Saturday evening weren't feelin’ 12th Man. Like the driver, they ignored him. I, on the other hand, appreciated his enthusiasm, and, still giddy at the prospect of a team from my city in the actual playoffs, offered a little encouragement. “Go Hawks!” I said.
12th Man was all for it. “See?” he scolded the other passengers. “She know about them Seahawks.”
They continued staring out the windows.
Despite the fact that he received no further encouragement, 12th Man continued his attempts to rouse his audience for as long as I was on the bus. As I got off, he called to me, “Make sure you tell ’em about them Seahawks, girl!”
And I did.
While in Detroit during the big game (Busin’ it in the Motor City, Feb. 15, 2006), Bus Nerd and I ran around the city screaming “What about them Seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeahawks?!” at the top of our lungs. (Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to help much.) I also shared the catchy phrase with my brother, who was responsible for this gem of an overheard:
Eastbound 14, 9 p.m.
My brothers and I are returning from an evening of bonding at the Seahawks/Cowboys playoff game in early 2007. The 14 is standing-room only — packed with Seahawks fans and regular riders — but oddly morose, given the outcome of the game.
Jeremy, to everyone else on the bus: “What about them Seeeeeeeeahawks?!”
At least half of the other riders: “Hawks, baby! Sea-HAWKS!”
A lone voice in the crowd: “Better not be no Cowboys on this bus.” |
