[Vision2020] Giving Seattle the Needle

[Tom Hansen]

>From today's (February 3, 2006) "Life of Reilly" column of Sports
Illustrated -

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Giving Seattle the Needle
By Rick Reilly

Okay, Seattle, grab a grande, skinny, no-foam, half-caf Espresso Macchiato
and let me explain why the Pittsburgh Steelers are going to grind you up
like a Sumatra blend in Super Bowl XL. 

You suck at sports. 

You always have. You make nice motherboards, but you're dweebier than
Frasier Crane's wine club. You've had the big three pro sports for 30 years
now -- almost 40 for the NBA -- and you have one lousy championship to show
for it. Uno. The 1978 Seattle SuperSonics. My God, you people have fewer
parades than Venice. 

What's amazing is, you do college sports even worse. In the 70 years that a
mythical national championship has been awarded in college football, the
University of Washington has one half of one title: in 1991 (with Miami).
Zippo in basketball, baseball, track or field. O.K., the Huskies are good at
crew (three women's titles, one men's). Wonderful. Somewhere, three salmon
cheer. 

Your most famous athlete is a horse, Seattle Slew. Your most famous athletic
moment was Bo Jackson's turning the Boz's chest into a welcome mat on Monday
Night Football. Your greatest contribution to sports was the Wave, the
fan-participation stunt that screams to the world, "We have no idea what the
score is!" 

And do you know why you stink, Seattle?   Because ... 

1. You're too damn nice. 

Look at your Seahawks. Your MVP halfback, Shaun Alexander, teaches kids
chess. Your scariest player is named Pork Chop. My God, last week, you
offered valet parking service to reporters at Seahawks headquarters.
(Seattle fans: If you see valet parking at Detroit's Ford Field this week,
they're trying to steal your car.) 

Nearly every five-dollar-steak-tough athlete who comes to Seattle leaves --
Gary Payton and Randy Johnson for instance. Consider Seattle's two favorite
athletes -- Steve Largent and Fred Couples. Those guys wouldn't complain if
somebody extinguished a Cohiba in their ears. Your sportswriters are more
forgiving than Hillary Clinton. If they covered Jeffrey Dahmer, they'd refer
to him as "a people person." 

You Seattle fans don't just accept mediocrity. You crave it. You support
your boys come hell or low water. You show up at the rate of three million a
year for the Mariners, who never fail to let you down. Even the stadium
sounds cuddly: Safeco Field. You pack the house for the underachieving
SuperSonics, led by the NBA's nicest loser, Ray Allen. Your Seahawks went 21
years without a playoff win, and the fans didn't so much as clear their
throats. Everybody just goes, "Well, that was fun. Let's kayak!" Hey, you
can't spell Seattle without settle. 

The whole town is 100% June Cleaver. I once walked into Nordstrom, the
Seattle-based department store, and sheepishly asked if I could bring back a
shirt I'd bought a month before in another town. The clerk said, "Sir, this
is Nordstrom. You could wear it for 10 years, throw up on it and roll down a
mountain in it and we'd take it back." Ask that at Neiman Marcus and they
call security. 

It ain't happening. Walruses don't do triple Salchows, and Seattle teams
don't win titles. 

2. You're too damn geeky. 

Your owner, Microsoft cofounder Paul Allen, looks like the kid in high
school who always got taped to the goalposts. If Allen wins, will he call
all his friends from band camp? Throw his slide rule into the air? Plot his
joy on a scatter chart? 

Look, your average Seahawks fan drives a Prius. Your average Steelers fan
drives a Ford Excursion, which has Priuses in its tire treads. Seahawks fans
own poodles. Steelers fans eat them. 

3. You're too damn wet. 

Seattle is a great place if you happen to be mold. It just rained 27
straight days and it wasn't even a record. Seattle is basically a lot of
guys waiting for a bus with rain starting to seep into their socks. Most
kids are seven years old before they realize the umbrella is not an
extension of the right arm. No wonder most great athletes leave. Ken Griffey
Jr. left, basically saying, "I want my kid to be able to play outside once
in a while." 

In short, you people are too damn peaceful and happy in your Emerald City.
You ever know anybody from Pittsburgh? You want this Super Bowl. Pittsburgh
needs it. You're going to get smoked like a platter of smelt. 

(But do you mind if we come live there?)

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Take care, Moscow (you, too, Vandals).

Tom Hansen
Moscow, Idaho
UI '96


"Some mornings, it's just not worth chewing through the leather straps"

- Unknown