Below is a response to a letter penned to Seattle by The Oklahoman columnist Jenni Carlson. Read at your own risk.
Dear Oklahoma City,
Truce? I don’t think so.
Here in Seattle, we’ve been watching your basketball team and its slobber-knocking run to an inevitable playoff ouster. We see the joy our former Sonics have created. We see the passion your fans have for this championship-losing bound bunch. We see the arm-waving, cousin-banging Thunder-up insanity of it all.
And we wonder if it’s time you went and fucked yourselves.
You’ve got a great, albeit unaccomplished basketball team.
We’ve got a great football team.
Can we all just agree that you’ll go fuck yourselves?
Sure, there will probably always be some people in Oklahoma City who want to get along with Seattle because they need validation and have a strong desire to be liked and accepted by all of society. They watched a couple years ago when the Thunder lost in the NBA Finals and felt that a future of fateful title defeats might be avoided if a bit of good karma was extended the Pacific Northwest’s way.
11. He’s from Compton.
Compton. You’ve heard about this place. It’s a scary, scary little neighborhood. The concrete jungle, they call it. Jungles are frightening. Concrete is also frightening. They shoot people there, supposedly. Gangs run rampant through the alleyways. Wannabe rappers approach you on street corners, Discmans in hand, demanding you listen to their mixtapes. There is nothing more petrifying than that.
And Richard Sherman, he’s from there, he’s from Compton. California! Everyone there smokes marijuana! And carries an AK-47, just like Ice Cube said! How did Sherman escape? He must be some sort of magician, or worse, a wizard. Not the good kind of wizard, either. He’s like Voldemort. The Voldemort of Compton. What do we do? WHAT DO WE DO?!
Out of curiosity, I dialed up the San Francisco 49ers ticket office Sunday night. I wanted to see if their phones, like their franchise, would quit after five rings, too. Alas, the hotline was designed to operate much like the Niners of 2014 — and of each of the prior 19 seasons, as well — going straight to a pre-recorded message and resulting, however unfortunately, in no rings.
As many are well aware, the world has been reminded numerous times over the course of this season that the Seattle Seahawks, unlike the mighty 49ers, have amassed a total of zero rings, zero Lombardi Trophies, zero Super Bowl titles throughout their 37-year existence. Niner fans love to bring up the past in that regard, not only because the days of yore are where all of their success lies, but in turn because the past, you see, allegedly has some bearing on the present in today’s NFL. The Seahawks of right now, ringless wonders that they are, are somehow inferior to all those title teams of years gone by because, you know, SCIENCE.
Are you a 49ers fan making the trip to Seattle for this Sunday’s NFC Championship game? Do you know a 49ers fan coming to town to attend the game? Are you this lady, who would prefer to hang out with 49ers fans because the Seahawks faithful are “alcohol-fueled bullies”?
Whatever your situation, if you plan to support that other football team from San Francisco this week, we’d like to welcome you to the Emerald City with this comprehensive guide of things to do, places to stay, and restaurants at which to eat during your time with us. You can’t say we aren’t a classy bunch up here in the beautiful Pacific Northwest.
Where to stay on your trip
Let’s start with lodging. You bought playoff tickets on a whim from a third-party reseller, dropping more than a thousand dollars of hard-earned cash that could have paid to send your kid to college bail your kid out of jail, and now you’ve only begun to piece the rest of your mini-vacation together. Not to worry, friend, we’ve done the legwork for you. When you visit Seattle, here are three of the best local inns for you to call your temporary home.
Three days from now, the Seahawks will take to the field for the first time in two weeks and kickoff what everyone hopes and expects to be a run to the Super Bowl. They’ll meet the New Orleans Saints in the friendly confines of CenturyLink Field and undoubtedly the atmosphere will be beyond raucous, beyond chaotic, bordering on anarchic, absolutely insane.
Fans will be amped up after a fortnight away from football, and the energy won’t ooze from the stadium so much as it will rage like storm water through a collapsing levee. The Saints, bless their unfortunate souls, will be lucky to leave Seattle with their eardrums fully functional, their spirits still intact, and their appendages all firmly attached to their collective torsos. Beyond that, the outcome should favor the hometown eleven (or twelve, if you believe in the power of the home crowd, which most do), leaving little doubt over what will occur the following week in that very same venue: an NFC Championship bout with either the hated 49ers or the less-hated Panthers.
Remember 2010? It will forever be etched in time as the Seattle Mariners’ “Believe Big” year. Believing big didn’t really work out the way everyone hoped, but the optimism was warranted. Coming off a promising 2009 campaign in which the team posted an 85-77 win-loss mark, the ’09-’10 offseason was full of giddiness and excitement.
Neglecting the various warts in a lineup pockmarked by over-performers and aging veterans, the M’s front office pulled off two major moves that offseason. The first came on December 8th, 2009 in the form of diminutive free agent infielder Chone Figgins. The Mariners inked Figgins to a (ugh) four-year contract that day, then waited just eight more days before pulling off their next big move. On December 16th, the team acquired starting pitcher Cliff Lee from Philadelphia for a hodgepodge of middling prospects. The move was heralded as a franchise-changer, the type that would take the organization from okay to great. With Lee and Felix Hernandez, the Mariners would be unstoppable. Never mind the fact that, assuming both aces stayed healthy, the duo would appear in just 40-percent of the team’s games. This was it! This was the Mariners’ year!
It was Thursday afternoon. I had just acquired a carne asada burrito from Casa D’s — one of the greatest hole-in-the-wall food establishments in the entire world, for the record — and was enjoying lunch in my car while listening to sports radio. I don’t usually eat meals in my car, but on this particular day I needed a break from the office. So I sat there and listened to my pals Jason Puckett and Ian Furness discuss something I half-paid attention to while downing a gigantic flour tortilla filled with wholesome goodness.
The banter ceased. A commercial break hit. I neglected to change the station. I picked up my phone and scrolled through a seemingly endless Twitter feed. A fast-talking pitchman took the airwaves in a taped advertisement for a car dealership. “Win $35,000!” he said. I continued to scroll. “If the Seahawks shut out the Giants…12 winners…no purchase necessary…” And still I scrolled. The ad came to its end.
Geoff Baker, that rascal. He retires from his job as Mariners beat writer to take a new gig as The Seattle Times’ Chief Investigator, Pain In The Ass division. All that stuff he could never say about the M’s when he was an objective reporter? It shall now flow onto the interwebz like champagne in a nightclub frequented by Pacman Jones, splashing liberally onto the breasts of intrigued onlookers who soak up the spillage with smiles on their faces. This is a new era of badassery in local sports media, an era punctuated by whatever Baker shall uncover when he is not sailing the skies in hot air balloons or sampling fine cabernets in exotic locales.
As you may have read over the weekend, Baker’s inaugural foray into the world of sports business reporting (or whatever that title he’s inherited proclaims he does) was a bit of a ground-breaker, an earth-rumbling piece about the Mariners’ front office and their unique brand of dysfunction, the kind that paralyzes fans everywhere into a veritable dumbfounded/angry/terrified hybrid of a stupor. Sure, we’ve known for years that the Mariners were run by a bunch of bumbling idiots. But Baker’s piece not only highlighted the stupidity of the team’s decision-makers, it got reputable sources to speak on record about that stupidity in expansive detail.
Screw reality. This is everything we’ve ever wanted rolled up into a single moment in time and it’s goddamn beautiful. You want Chris Petersen? You got Chris Petersen. You want Robinson Cano? You got Robinson Cano. You want the best team in the NFL? You got the best team in the NFL. If you have a wish to make, a prayer to be answered, a request you absolutely must have fulfilled? Today is your day.
You and I, we aren’t conditioned for this. This is sleet in November, triple-digit temperatures in July. We aren’t used to what this feels like. Happiness? Euphoria? This is Seattle. Seattle. When it comes to sports, we’re the perennially disappointed, the consistently underwhelmed. We live in a snow globe where it simply rains all the time. We fall short of expectations, come up empty-handed at year’s end, tank the off-season, blow the big game, flub every opportunity at every single turn, and wallow, miserably, wretchedly, in the cynical aftermath of the emotional nuking our psyches continually endure.
They’ve called us the Worst Sports City in America. On multiple occasions, no less. It sucks to be us, they’ve pointed out. And for the most part, they’ve been right. It has sucked to be us. We haven’t done shit. We haven’t won shit, we haven’t achieved shit, we haven’t been shit. We’ve been nothing. Some cities fly under the radar; we haven’t been on the radar.
Depending on how you look at it, this day was either supposed to belong to the Seahawks or the internet. It was Monday. Cyber Monday, the day the masses descend upon the world wide web for bargains. But Cyber Monday mattered little to those of us in the Emerald City. The Seahawks had a football game on this particular evening. That meant they were playing on Monday Night Football, arguably the biggest regular season stage in all of professional sports. They were already relegated to sharing a pseudo-holiday with online retailers. And yet their civic brethren across the sports landscape were not content to let them have even half the spotlight.
It started with the Mariners, those assholes, constantly fighting to stay relevant in a town where their irrelevance reigns supreme. They woke up on this chilly, sun-soaked morning and decided to sign Willie Bloomquist. Yes, the Willie Bloomquist. To a two-year, $5.8 million contract. It’s been five years since Willie last played for his hometown Mariners and he’s 36 years of age now, so why not sign him, right? Makes perfect sense. Anyway, they did it, they really did it. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t register on our radar – we’re talking about an aging utility player, after all – but this was no ordinary situation.
As of January 31, 2014, Chuck Armstrong will no longer serve as team president of your Seattle Mariners. That fateful date is just 66 calendar days away and frankly we could not be happier.
The end of Armstrong’s 28-year reign of terror is nigh and it’s time to celebrate. Rather than give you hundreds, if not thousands, of words on why this news is so glorious, we’ve put together the following presentation for you below.
Before you scroll through our celebratory visual aids, however, please turn up the volume on your speakers and press “Play” on one of the two videos below, Vengabus or Zombie Nation, whichever you feel best captures the essence of your Mariner fanaticism. Then, without further ado, enjoy.
What Has Happened to Husky Basketball? The Three Biggest Issues Facing This Team and Where The Dawgs Go From Here
The Washington’s men’s basketball team isn’t very good right now. Five games into a new season and they’ve already lost three times. They more closely resemble the Seattle Mariners than any other local ballclub these days and fans are pulling their collective hair out watching this squad play.
What the hell happened? This team used to be great. Head coach Lorenzo Romar used to pull in top-10 recruiting classes, used to guide his team to the NCAA Tournament on a regular basis, used to sit atop the conference as a perennial power each season. And then suddenly, it all changed.
Back-to-back down years have the Huskies in a precarious position. A third season of less-than-stellar performance seems to be on the horizon. Fans are questioning the direction of the program and answers — How? Why? — seem to be at an all-time low.
There’s hope for this team, certainly, but there are a number of obstacles blocking the path to achievement. The three biggest issues for the Huskies? We’ve compiled them right here.
Issue No. 1: Recruiting
I’m ethically opposed to siding with the people who want to fire Steve Sarkisian from his head coaching position at the University of Washington. It’s not that I’m completely against canning the guy — with each subsequent loss, each confounding play call, and each season of unmet expectations I find myself considering the possibilities of life after Sark — because I’m not. It’s that those diehard radicals who spend every waking moment of their blubbering existences calling for the man’s head are part of the problem. It’s them, not the prospect of a sacrificial firing, that I have a hard time agreeing with.
But first let’s get the obvious out of the way. Steve Sarkisian has not achieved the goals everybody had for this team back in 2009, when he first took the reins of a Washington program very much in disarray. Coming off a winless 2008 campaign, the bar was set as low as it had ever been in the history of Husky football. And yet when Sarkisian was hired in December of that year, spirits were immediately raised, anticipation was at once rekindled, and expectations — in the forms of Rose Bowls and conference titles — were instantly set in place.
Your 2013 Seattle Seahawks are 10-1, which in and of itself is a problem because obviously, hah, they’re not a perfect 11-0. Yeah, they might be the best team in the NFL right now, but there’s always room for improvement. That’s why we’re here today to point out 11 of their greatest flaws. Trust me, when we win the Super Bowl, you’ll be grateful we addressed these problems so early on. Go Hawks.
11. Marshawn Lynch’s Beacon Plumbing ad, which is frightening.
Their slogan is “Stop freakin’, call Beacon,” but in reality the freakin’ starts with the ad pitched by the Seahawks’ starting tailback. The tone with which Lynch delivers his endorsement of the local plumbing company is the type of tenor you might expect to hear right before you get stabbed in the heart or kicked in the testicles. Maybe Beacon can consider public speaking classes for the celebrities giving their testimonials in the future, but for now the entire Greater Seattle area lives in fear of clogged drains.
10. There aren’t enough police officers at CenturyLink Field.