With 5 minutes to play Russell Wilson was having the worst came of his life … 4 interceptions for the first time ever, and the Seahawks trailed Aaron Rodgers and the Packers by 12. I admit it, I wrote the game off, but was doggedly determined to watch until the end.
Then … our first touchdown of the day on a Wilson keeper. An improbable onsides kick recovery that bounced off a hapless Packer’s head (not the cheesy kind), and a classic Beast Mode touchdown run by the indomitable Marshawn Lynch, and suddenly out of nowhere Seattle was in front by 1. Knowing a 2-point lead would risk losing the game on a field goal when Rodgers got the ball back, Seattle went for 2 and converted that on a ridiculous play that had no right in the world to work.
Sure enough Rodgers rushed the Packers downfield and they hit the 48-yard field goal to send the game to overtime. But now the Seattle crowd was in full throat. They’d gone from utter depression to delirium in five minutes, surely they wouldn’t be denied now.
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As the disbelieving Seattle fans filed out of the stadium, the speakers blared a song that surely was a choice of owner Paul Allen, a rock ‘n roll child of the 70s like myself:
