Defending The NFL Experience

I’m not going to be cliché and tell you things the world record breaking Seattle crowd was louder than. You’ve heard it before. Suffice to say, it’s loud. It’s your-expletive-of-choice loud.

I’m also not going to breakdown the amazing beat down the Seattle Seahawks put upon on the New Orleans Saints. Most of you probably both watched the game and read the work of my colleagues. Instead, I want to talk about the actual experience in stadium.

This year, Seahawks fans have participated in two attempts (both successful) to set noise records. Both times, articles and televised news stories discussed the negative impacts of this noise upon fans of the game. This is heaped upon further criticism of the in-stadium experience for NFL fans.

Since 2007, attendance records have steadily declined at NFL games. Of course, we expect the Oaklands and Jacksonvilles of the football world to have difficulty in filling the seats. But the plague does not just touch the under-performers. While we are largely immune from attendance issues in Seattle, nearly 1/3 of the league plays in stadiums that are at less than 95% capacity. According to the Denver Post, that is double from just a few years ago.

There are lots of factors to this. Here is the main narrative: you pay hundreds of dollars, sit in traffic, battle an often hostile crowd and to sit in a seat that gives you a worse view than your home high-def TV, where the beer is cheaper, the food is better and there are no lines for the bathroom. Plus, you can watch your fantasy team. Even further, crowd control has been a cited issue for NFL stadiums, with violence breaking out on a disturbing basis.

While all of this is true to some extent, I’m here to defend the NFL experience. To me, the biggest issue in NFL stadiums can be the crowd. I find 99% of fans loud and rowdy and probably more than a little bit drunk. And that’s perfectly fine (in fact, it’s fun). It’s the 1% who yell slurs, both racial and homophobic or are unnecessarily confrontational that cause what problem there is. Certainly, I would hesitate to bring a child to a game and the NFL should do what it can to curb the unpleasant fans. But not for long.

There is nothing like being a part of the 12^th Man in stadium. The emotion, the pride, the joy of victory and agony of defeat. These may sound like sports clichés but you genuinely feel them at CenturyLink Field. You feel like you are a part of something greater, a body of like-minded fans all hoping for the same end.

Sure, you get a better view on HD. But you get a much different perspective. On TV, you see the pocket, you see the pass, and you see the reception. In the stadium, there is nothing like the bit of anticipation as you see the receiver break away from coverage. You see the play developing downfield. You yell and point, as if Russell Wilson is waiting for your feedback from the upper deck. When the pass is completed, you feel sheer jubilation. You get to watch a play develop in a way unlike on TV.

Oh, and in terms of fantasy, being in the stadium is my break from checking my fantasy team. I check my “Unholy Rollers” hourly during the week and about every 30 seconds during the weekend (I’m ashamed to admit that despite my attention, I am struggling for a spot in the playoffs). The stadium is my break.

Let me digress, slightly, with a story of why I love the fan experience. In the year of the magical Super Bowl run, we had season tickets and I went to every home game. There was a man behind us. We never learned his name. We called him Big Dude because everything about the man, from voice to stature, was big. Not a very complex backstory. We cheered alongside him all season, at first laughing at his early chants of “Super Bowl” until we started joining in and believing it ourselves.

Then came the divisional round of the playoffs against Washington. The game was in hand and everyone realized that the Seahawks were advancing. Big Dude, despite the cold temperatures, was shirtless. We started celebrating and high fiving all around us. And, out of nowhere, my brother, my dad and I each hugged Big Dude, who was characteristically sweaty from the exertion of cheering. What normally would play as reminiscent of the Philip Seymour Hoffman seen in Along Came Polly was instead a joyful moment of odd embrace, celebrating a moment. If Big Dude somehow was at my house, I never would have hugged him, shirtless or not. I’m just not that fond of hugging … Except in the stadium.

You can have your couch and your reasonably priced beer. Give me any seat in CenturyLink (and I mean any, I’ve sat in the absolute last row of the upper deck) and I’ll be there with bells on. Except, instead of bells, think my blue and green Seahawks wig.