If social networking sites have proven anything to me over the course of the past few hours, it’s that you fickle Seattle sports fans are decidedly torn on who should be the Seahawks’ starting quarterback on December 26th, 2010.
Oh sure, there are some of you who are blindly optimistic about Matt Hasselbeck. God forbid anybody boo an underwhelming player. (By the way, don’t we have a right, as fans, to express our opinions on our team’s performance? Or do they not allow that anymore?)
We’ve all heard the excuses. It’s the O-line’s fault! It’s the receiving corps’ fault! It’s the coaching staff’s fault! Well, all or some of that may be true, but Hasselbeck is the one out there playing like crap. So point fingers if you must. But just know that the man isn’t performing. At the end of the day, performance is all that really matters. And if you don’t believe that he’s not performing, click here.
On the flip side, there are those of you who love Charlie Whitehurst so much that you’d like to see Hasselbeck sent out to sea on a sinking ship. He looks like Jesus, you say. Well yes, that’s fairly accurate. But really, that has nothing to do with football. And frankly, Whitehurst has only been so-so in his attempts at throwing things this year. If Whitehurst was actually Jesus, we’d be undefeated right now and he’d be almost as good as the all-99 player you just created in your own likeness on Madden.
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If the Charlie Whitehurst versus Matt Hasselbeck debate has taught us anything, it’s that a pretentious jackass is the worst kind of sports fan there is.
Since that fateful day when the Seahawks gave up a third-round pick for Whitehurst, a quarterback controversy has been brewing in Seattle. And fueling that controversy are a contingent of fanatics who don’t know their elbows from their asses.
On either side of the spectrum, you have the Hasselbeck Sucks squad battling the Whitehurst Is Terrible crew. The pro-Hasselbecks believe No. 8 is God. Once upon a time, he led our team to a Superbowl, plus he’s a pretty nice dude. Hence, he can commit no fallacy. The pro-Whitehursts realize that Hasselbeck is past his prime, but more than that they believe that if Whitehurst isn’t Zeus, he might as well be Jesus (looks notwithstanding).
Fact is, they’re both wrong.
Between Facebook, Twitter, mainstream media, and the sports blogosphere, I’ve seen enough written about Hasselbeck v. Whitehurst to last a lifetime. Unfortunately for society, most of it is complete crap.
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So be careful with that, fellow sports writing brethren. We don’t need to be channeling an NWA track up in this biz. Word.
Anyways, let’s talk about Marshawn Lynch. Why not, right? We don’t have anything else to talk about. And frankly, Lynch is an intriguing topic of conversation now that he’s the most recent newest member of the Seahawks (not be confused will all those other newest members of the Seahawks who came before him).
The most amazing factoid I digested about Lynch in the past few days is this: he’s only 24 years old. Amazing, I know. I figured he was at least 27, if not older. I’ve been hearing this dude’s name for most of the past decade, if only because he played his college ball in the Pac-10. Still, just retaining memories of someone for that long will play tricks on your mind. For that reason alone, I figured he was nearing the deadly running back plateau of 30. Clearly, I was wrong.
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See for yourself.
At left is Jennings’ ESPN player profile photo. If you aren’t convinced that his forehead is bigger than yours, then you might be a Martian.
Are you jacked? You better be.
Did you see what our local teams did over the weekend? If you live in the Seattle area and aren’t going to work in a good mood today, you better check yourself before you wreck yourself. For real. No, I’m serious. FOR REAL!
It doesn’t matter if you’re a Husky or a Coug, a basketball fan or a football fan. There was something for everyone this weekend, from the Dawgs’ thrashing of Syracuse, to the Cougars’ timely (albeit unsettling) victory over Montana State, to the Storm’s last-second win in the WNBA Finals, to the Seahawks’ dismantling of the 49ers. Every one of our major sports teams gave us reason to believe over a 48-hour time frame, including the Mariners, who continued to do their best to improve their 2011 draft position by tanking down the stretch (keep fighting the bittersweet fight, M’s).
Though the feel-good juices could be found flowing all over the Emerald City, they were perhaps no more prevalent than amidst the bowels of Qwest Field on Sunday afternoon. While the Huskies, Cougars, and Storm were all projected to take home wins in their efforts, the Seahawks were viewed as a ridiculous underdog in their matchup with San Francisco. Which, in turn, made their triumph all the more impressive.
Let’s not kid ourselves, however. In spite of the fact that the Hawks ultimately routed their Bay Area foes, we weren’t feeling so sure about the boys in blue until one-fourth of the battle had passed. It took a 35-yard reception from one of the newest Seattleites, Mike Williams, to unlock the floodgates for a Seahawks ballclub that had struggled to remove themselves from life support in the contest’s opening period.
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Matthew Hasselbeck
Were you sucked in by the title? Get it. Sucked in. Okay, enough of that.
This is it. The moment you’ve all been waiting for. The officially unofficial 2010 Seattle Seahawks preview. A forecast, if you will. Brought to you by Seattle Sportsnet. Where Leon Washington wears the name of the state he plays in on his back.
And now, without further ado, on to the player-by-player prognostication. Organized by position, with starters listed first.
*The asterisk denotes a starter. Not a steroid user or anything weird like that.
OFFENSE
QB – Matthew Hasselbeck*
Steve Raible calls him Matthew so I will too. I’d also like to add that a lot of writers put a comma directly after the word that precedes “too” in a sentence. F**k those guys. That comma is completely unnecessary.
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If Seahawks management ran the Mariners…
…Jose Lopez would be screwing up my order at Wendy’s right now.
…Ryan Rowland-Smith would be back in Sydney blowing a didgeridoo.
…Brandon League would be ruining people’s lives at Supercuts.
…David Pauley would be on the practice squad.
…Chone Figgins would be training for his bout with Manny Pacquiao.
…Rob Johnson would be tending to a horse farm in Montana.
…Jack Wilson would be auditioning for the next installment of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise.
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Saw this hanging on the half-off rack at the Seattle Team Shop (literally, one of my favorite stores of all-time) and it took me and my buddy Chris a good thirty seconds to figure out why some dude named White had had his named slapped onto the back of Deon Grant’s old uniform.
Somewhere in that five-minute time frame between when LenDale Plumpy White was traded to the Seahawks and when he was subsequently cut by the Seahawks, the NFL seized the moment and ejaculated his replica jersey all over the Emerald City. Now the good folks who run a great store like the STS are stuck trying to pawn this worthless piece of crap off on unsuspecting Japanese tourists. How often does Gray Line roll down Occidental, anyways? It could take years to move these things.
Now if we could just get our hands on a Pokey Reese jersey, the dynamic duo would be complete.
Dear NFL: Epic, epic fail.
Admittedly, I have nothing else to write about. The Mariners are the most boring team in the history of baseball, and the Pac-10 Plus Colorado just invited Utah to come out and play. These are topics barely worth mentioning, let alone devoting an entire article to. So instead, I give you my Darrell Jackson story. I’ve been saving this for a rainy day, and frankly it’s pouring right now. Enjoy.
Once upon a time, I used to work at Champs Sports in the Bellevue Square Mall. Frequent visitors of the site already know this, but you might be new, and so I welcome you to the Seattle Sportsnet family by providing that little bit of context.
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I like Golden Tate.
When the Seahawks first drafted him about a month ago, I didn’t think I’d like him that much. The dude had single-handedly destroyed the Huskies over the years (with a little help from Casey Clausen’s kid brother, I suppose), and because I’d heard so much about him in the media during his time at Notre Dame, he almost had that prima donna reputation that can a follow a talented young player around. Call it the Tebow Effect, or something along those lines.
In the weeks since he officially became a Seahawk, Tate has done quite a bit to earn my respect.
First off, he’s been attending organized team activities (OTAs) despite not having a signed a contract yet. That takes guts. It’s like working for free, with no insurance policy, no safety net, nothing. Every fan should be applauding that move.
Second, early reports from camp on Tate have all been favorable. The consensus opinion is that the Seahawks got a steal in the second round with the former Fighting Irish wideout. And that pleases me. Because the Hawks don’t really have anyone on their roster that has proven to be a true No. 1 receiver in the NFL. But Tate, by all indications, could be just that.
More than anything else, however, the thing that has endeared me to Tate most of all is his penchant for doughnuts, which in turn has led him to a life of crime. Seriously.
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Is Howard Schultz, coffee magnate and former Sonics owner, responsible for the release of ex-Seahawks running back LenDale White? Some people say yes, he is.
One individual close to the situation — a small-business entrepreneur by the name of Bob A. Fett — has revealed to Seattle Sportsnet that it was Schultz who provided White with the drugs he is now rumored to have ingested, thus leading to his departure on Friday from the Seahawks organization. Fett, a self-proclaimed giant of the head-hunting industry, speaks no English. He communicated this information to us through a translator fluent in Fett’s native language of Mandalorian.
Though it remains unclear why a man who has caused so much harm to the city of Seattle would begin attacking local athletes, we can only speculate that Schultz is attempting to cover up the bad P.R. of a recent promotional stunt gone horribly awry.
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Hooray for winning awards.
Beating out the likes of Atlanta, Buffalo, Cleveland, and Kansas City, our fair municipality has taken home the honor of being named America’s Most Miserable Sports City. Let’s hear it for Seattle.
The distinction was handed down by Forbes magazine, and was determined by a number of different factors: misery in the form of losing seasons, misery in the form of few championships, misery in the form of being good but not good enough, and misery in the form of losing entire organizations (i.e. the Sonics).
As everyone and their mother knows, the Emerald City has suffered when it comes to winning titles.
We have but one major professional championship under our belt: the 1979 NBA crown, won by the now-defunct Supersonics.
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You all know the stats (just 23 sacks in over 5,000 passing attempts, with two of those being relinquished in a 2008 game where he was injured).
You all know about the longevity (13 seasons with the Seahawks, 180 games played, 180 games started).
You all know about the greatness (Mike Holmgren once referred to Walter as the greatest offensive player he had ever coached, while a laundry list of superstar defensive players have called him the toughest opponent they’ve ever faced).
What you may not know is that Walter Jones was so ridiculously obscure, so humble, and so underrated for what he did that a Google Image search returns more pictures of the guy by the same name who played the original black Power Ranger than of No. 71.
Yep. It’s kind of funny the way you don’t notice a great offensive lineman until he’s gone. And Walter was once of the greatest. Ever.
We wish you well, Walter. And we’ll see you in five years, in Canton.
A few years back, I unknowingly spawned the birth of a legend when I selected LenDale White in the second round of the Pearce Fantasy League keeper draft. Between the 36 players who were kept by the 12 teams in our league, as well as the 12 players who had been taken in the first round, I was left with few options besides the Tennessee Titans’ starting running back.
Little did I know that White wasn’t exactly in the best shape of his life and was about to have his job stolen by the evil Chris Johnson. It didn’t help any that Johnson wasn’t taken until the final few rounds of the draft, after every starter and most backups were already off the board.
And so it was that I was left with LenDale.
Tennessee’s featured back initially, the erratic White kicked off the ’08 campaign by rushing for five touchdowns in the season’s first four games. To say I was pleased would be an understatement. In a typical fantasy season, my best players are usually obtained via free agency or trade. I’m more or less the George Steinbrenner of fake sports.
White kept his tremendous season going with five touchdowns in weeks seven and eight, alone. That put him at 10 scores already for the year. No easy feat through just seven contests (the Titans had a bye in week six).
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The only thing that could disappoint me in 2010 is to witness the Seahawks piece together a mediocre season. Not a bad season. Not a good season. But very specifically, a mediocre season.
Anywhere between, say, five and eight wins would be what I consider a disappointment.
Nine wins or more? Great.
Four wins or less? Fantastic.
As long as we can avoid the uncoveted middle-of-the-road, I’ll be thrilled.
You may ask yourself why I’d be forecasting an entire season this way. It’s simple, really. I either want this team to go to the Superbowl or finish poorly enough to be in position to draft Jake Locker.
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If social networking sites have proven anything to me over the course of the past few hours, it’s that you fickle Seattle sports fans are decidedly torn on who should be the Seahawks’ starting quarterback on December 26th, 2010.
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