grab a grande, skinny, no-foam, half-caf Espresso Macchiato and let me explain
why the Pittsburgh Steelers are going to grind you up like a Sumatra blend in
Super Bowl XL.
You suck at
You always have.
You make nice motherboards, but you're dweebier than Frasier Crane's wine club.
You've had the big three pro sports for 30 years now--almost 40 for the
NBA--and you have one lousy championship to show for it. Uno. The 1978 Seattle
SuperSonics. My God, you people have fewer parades than Venice.
is, you do college sports even worse. In the 70 years that a mythical national
championship has been awarded in college football, the University of Washington
has one half of one title: in 1991 (with Miami). Zippo in basketball, baseball,
track or field. O.K., the Huskies are good at crew (three women's titles, one
men's). Wonderful. Somewhere, three salmon cheer.
Your most famous
athlete is a horse, Seattle Slew. Your most famous athletic moment was Bo
Jackson's turning the Boz's chest into a welcome mat on Monday Night Football.
Your greatest contribution to sports was the Wave, the fan-participation stunt
that screams to the world, "We have no idea what the score is!"
And do you know
why you stink, Seattle? Because ...
1. You're too
Look at your
Seahawks. Your MVP halfback, Shaun Alexander, teaches kids chess. Your scariest
player is named Pork Chop. My God, last week, you offered valet parking service
to reporters at Seahawks headquarters. ( Seattle fans: If you see valet parking
at Detroit's Ford Field this week, they're trying to steal your car.)
five-dollar-steak-tough athlete who comes to Seattle leaves-- Gary Payton and
Randy Johnson for instance. Consider Seattle's two favorite athletes--Steve
Largent and Fred Couples. Those guys wouldn't complain if somebody extinguished
a Cohiba in their ears. Your sportswriters are more forgiving than Hillary
Clinton. If they covered Jeffrey Dahmer, they'd refer to him as "a people
You Seattle fans
don't just accept mediocrity. You crave it. You support your boys come hell or
low water. You show up at the rate of three million a year for the Mariners,
who never fail to let you down. Even the stadium sounds cuddly: Safeco Field.
You pack the house for the underachieving SuperSonics, led by the NBA's nicest
loser, Ray Allen. Your Seahawks went 21 years without a playoff win, and the
fans didn't so much as clear their throats. Everybody just goes, "Well,
that was fun. Let's kayak!" Hey, you can't spell Seattle without