In a small downtown Seattle parking lot on a foggy Sunday morning, Seahawks season ticket holder, Parker, hops out of the passenger side of his buddy’s car faster than a young pup at a dog park. The cement is still wet with dew and his shoes scrape the gravel as he quickly circles the Jeep Cherokee and opens the trunk door. The dark green hatch opens like the lid of a treasure chest as he cheers, “It’s game day baby!”
A football season is only eighteen weeks long. The Seahawks have eight regular season home games a year. For season ticket holders, that’s a guaranteed 480 minutes of live football to feast your eyes on. However for Seahawks season ticket holders, it’s a lot more than 480 minutes (less than 9% of the minutes in an entire year), it’s a lifestyle. It’s a commitment to being the heart and soul of the celebrated 12th man.
Parker has had season tickets for a decade. He has owned the same seat at CenturyLink Field and can barely tie down his excitement for the season opener. Nothing is more rewarding than sitting in his seat again during that first game of the new season. Well, Parker would say he would rather stand in that seat but you know what I mean.
He and his tailgating buddies know all too well the hype, the excitement and the preparation needed for Seahawks game days. The first thing I learned was that for this super fan and his tailgate crew, the game day experience is a blessing.
“I remember when I was a little kid, when we first moved here and my dad took me to my first Seahawks game, we were borderline arrested for tailgating and lighting a grill in a parking lot,” Parker explains as his friend plops down their portable grill next to the open Cherokee, “I think it still is illegal but things have finally loosened up.”
I guess times have changed with the team. For last week’s game against the rival San Francisco 49ers, the parking lot was a buzz before nine in the morning. This nationally televised game is still a good eight hours away, but you wouldn’t think that by the sight of things. Parker begins to mix a Bloody Mary, tasting as he adds and re-adds ingredients, “Game day preparation is a weekend consuming task.” He grabs a premade bowl of whisked eggs along with a platter of meats and cheeses out of the trunk.
It’s breakfast time.
Almost always, he says, they have breakfast, lunch and dinner at the tailgate. Parker, like many others in his tailgate group, have gotten a full ten hours of sleep, have had his meal prepped since the night before and are chomping at the bit for the first Seahawks home game of the of the year.
“It’s our own little village,” Parker explains. “People come and go but everyone you see, parked here already, is in our clan and we go around eating, visiting and having a few drinks like we are celebrating a holiday.”
It’s a season opener potluck of epic proportions.
“Some people bring the breakfast, some people are going to start the ribs, some people even bring food that symbolizes the opposing team, wouldn’t be surprised if someone brought lobster or something for this Niners game,” laughs another tailgater while Parker gulps his Bloody Mary and nods.
A few traditions also help keep this lively bunch coming back Sunday after Sunday. One way is to create an ultimate tailgating award named after a Seattle Seahawk great, Dave Krieg, known as the Mud Bone award. It symbolizes the tailgater who brings the best food, consistently shows up early and always has the best team spirit. The winner is chosen at the end of the season by the previous year’s Mud Bone champ, so it always rotates. “It’s a great way to keep the vibes fresh and allow the tailgate to match the intensity of the games,” says one of Parkers friends. “Friendly competition helps bring out the best in people and ultimately making our tailgate better.”
Pretty soon the parking lot becomes a market for traveling fans. The crowd multiplies and dissipates like an ocean tide as the day moves along. Parker and his jovial group remain un-phased by the passing of fellow fans as they share their bounty with anyone who needs a bite, a toss of the pigskin or someone to talk to. Everyone wearing Seahawks green and blue isn’t just another fan but to Parker and company, they are family, “We are all part of the 12th man, we couldn’t be here without them and vice versa.” He bites into a smoking flank steak fresh off the grill and smiles, “this is the best extended family you could ask for.”
Now only an hour until game time the parking lot is in full festive swing. Laughs and cheers of Seahawk pandemonium rings out until one of the steady leaders of the tailgate community settles the crowd and calls everyone into to a circle. Everyone goes silent and removes their cap. Parker whispers to me, “It’s time for the Hawk Prayer.”
Finally, it was time for kickoff.
Not much side chatter happens from then on and the seats are always folded. No one sits if they want to watch and no one stops cheering. Most try not to even blink in fear they might miss a snap. It is as if the fans know that without them this place wouldn’t be special and that there is an obligation to help the team by being louder than a jumbo jet.
In this year’s 49ers game, the thunderstorm delayed the game an hour. If you were there, it might as well have been an eternity. Some reporters talked of the delay helping the 49ers and hurting the 12th man because such a delay would diminish the fans spirits. Obviously those reporters didn’t attend many Seahawks games. After the delay, Parker stood on his seat urging the crowd to get loud followed by a monstrous gusto of cheers.
The 12th man answers to no one, not even nature.
By the fourth quarter and the victory all but sealed, Parker and his band of brothers make their way back to the fourteen space parking lot for one final beer and their usual recap of the game.
“Rain or shine man, this is living,” Parker says as his voice cracks and fades from doing his duty as the 12th man. “I can’t think of many other things that even come close to that experience and what’s crazy it never used to be this way.” He tries to laugh, “I’m just lucky enough to get to do it at least seven more times; I can’t wait till next week!”
The whole group raises their beers in approval. They look exhausted and consumed by the day and are barely able to speak but I know better than to ask if it was all worth it.
For 420 more minutes, Parker and his tailgating brethren will get to back up the mighty Seahawks by creating the loudest and most difficult atmosphere to play in in the world. So for Parker, other regular season ticket holders and Seahawk fans of all kinds, they know that it’s all eighteen weeks that are going to be special and once one game ends, another one begins.
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