Born and raised outside of Philadelphia, my husband became a Seattle Seahawks fan when they joined the NFL in 1976. At the time, their quarterback was left-handed Jim Zorn. Southpaw Mister Rain, age 9, had his team. His fate was sealed; fourteen years later when we met, so was mine.
Growing up, my husband saw one or two games a year, with the introduction of cable that number increased, now with The Ticket we can watch them all. We have been to several games in Seattle, including one at the Kingdome. When the Seahawks come to town to play the Philadelphia Eagles, Mister Rain goes with a friend of ours who has season tickets.
It is not easy to support a team other than the home one. Some individuals don’t understand it from a local pride standpoint. Other passionate Philadelphia fans – are there any other kind? – don’t like it on principal: wrong bird. The one thing that my husband has going for him is that he’s been a 12* since before that was a thing. He didn’t jump on the bandwagon with the arrival of Russell Wilson to the Pacific Northwest nor did he abandon the ferry when #3 why not you’d himself to Denver. He is true blue and green. The first time I saw Mister Rain was in a photograph. His sister, whom I worked with, suggested he and I would get along. In the 3” x 5” picture she showed me, he is at his uncle’s house watching TV, wearing a Brian Bosworth Seahawks jersey.
Occasionally at a restaurant or the grocery store, my husband will meet another 12. If you are wondering how they know he’s a Hawks fan, he always has the logo on him somewhere, even if it’s just his watch. But the entirety of his life has been spent in hostile, enemy Eagles territory. As I write this I ask him how he does it. “It’s my team,” he says.
A few years ago, the Seahawks played the Raiders in the UK. The Hawks have a large fan base in Europe. As we watched pregame coverage, we learned there is a bar in London where 12s go to watch games. I wondered, could there be a Seahawks bar in Philadelphia?
Um . . . no.
Then I remembered hearing about a Kansas City Chiefs bar in New York City. It made sense, transplants come from all over the country to make it there. Including Seattle.
I Googled.
SPIKE THE BALL, SISTER RAIN!
CARLOW EAST AT 1254 LEXINGTON AVENUE
One of the online photos of the bar’s exterior shows a banner hanging above the door. It reads: “HAWKS NEST EAST – Where The 12’s Come To Roost.” An Irish pub on the Upper East Side is where we found our squad. Where everyone wears a Seahawks jersey. Where chants and claps are executed in perfect unison, based on the play. Many are, indeed, Seattle natives, now living in the Big Apple. Most are surprised we are from Philadelphia, a greater conversation starter there never was.
We love going to Washington state. But to be able to drive less than two hours then be amongst the 12s is a big score. As in life, you have to find your people. They may not be the team you are drafted with or your fellow players at training camp. But when you meet, you would recognize each other anywhere. Even without a jersey. That’s just the extra point on the touchdown.
GO HAWKS!
*12: The Seattle Seahawks fans are referred to as “the 12s” because they play a significant role in championing the team. The term “12s” represents the fans being the “12th man” on the field (there are 11 players) symbolizing their impact as an additional player through their vocal support and presence during games.
#sisterrain #alittlesightalotofheart #legallyblindtraveler #travel #carloweastnyc #12s #seattleseahawks #sometimesyouwannagowhereeverybodyknowsyourteam
