The Opening Kick

Being a sports fan in Seattle is tough. We don’t have the hardware that cities like Los Angeles and New York have. Nor do we have the history that teams like the Yankees or Lakers do. What we do have are fans. Our fans are passionate and the camaraderie is electrifying… We deserve a god damn parade.

But the franchises. The franchises are like that girlfriend that just doesn’t put out enough, and right as you’re convinced you’re going to leave her, you walk into a bedroom to find her in a black teddy. So being a Seattle fan is a balancing act. You have to balance passion and expectation.

But regardless of where you live or how good your team is, it’s that first kick off of the season that sends chills through your spine. When everyone is 0-0, all your players are healthy, new additions are ready to shine, attitudes are fresh and morale is high. However in Seattle… That feeling is about as consistent as the sun. We’ve had some absolutely gorgeous streaks of weather in Seattle, but I always bring my umbrella just in case.

We’ve only won a handful of national championships here and most of them at the collegiate level or in undeveloped leagues. But professional championships in Seattle? Few and far between.

I bet you didn’t know that in 1917 the Seattle Metropolitans became the first American team to win the Stanley Cup, defeating the Montreal Canadiens in four games. That would be something neat if I was old enough to enjoy doing crosswords while watching Matlock.

But outside of a Sonics title in ’79, a Storm championship in ’04 (No offense ladies, but I don’t feel comfortable enough in my masculinity to hang my hat on that) and a US Open Cup win from the Sounders last year, all we have to talk about is if we’re in playoff contention or the story about how your buddy drank too much tailgating and missed the whole first half puking.

But regardless of stats or public opinion, that opening kick off is like that hot shower after skiing. It’s like that piss you finally get to take after 3 hours in the car listening to your buddy jam out to his BEST OF WHITESNAKE album. The excitement you get from the season opening kickoff is like a first date. You don’t know what to expect. You hope for the best. And get as drunk as you need to be comfortable.

I’m not going to lie, these past few seasons of Seattle sports have left my will beaten. My confidence is shaken and there are times that I’m not sure I can go on. Our baseball and football teams have been sub .500, they took our fucking basketball team and my Huskies haven’t seen a bowl game since ’02.

But that opening kick. There’s something special about that. It’s like the first day of school. New surroundings, new people, you got your new threads on; anything is possible. And the beauty about Seattle is the worse the weather on opening day, the better. If it’s 50 and pissing, we’ll leave the jacket in the car and just put another shot in our Bloody Mary. Your mind is clear and your fatigue is non-existent.

What are your feelings about the season? Is it something you're confident about or is it another typical season in Seattle? I try not to think too far into the future as the words that eventually escape my mouth come back to bite me in the ass right around playoffs. But I digress.

I feel like my descriptions of the biological phenomenon known as the “opening kick” came off a bit orgasmic. But in a way, it is a little orgasmic. As men, and some women I guess, from August to February there is a certain something in the air that effects us all. Even if you don’t like sports, you are aware it is football season. It’s an extremely powerful force I care not to escape. But if in order for me to convey the importance of this event, I have to simulate busting a big footbally load, so be it.  It is always a bitter sweet moment as the summer wind escapes you and the snowy ground leads your path to solidarity among your comrades as you all sit back and enjoy the opening kick. But god damn it... I want a parade.

GO HAWKS!