If you had told me last August that on Super Bowl Sunday I’d be jumping off my couch with excitement, I wouldn’t have believed you. But there I was, every Seahawks touchdown bringing out my inner soccer fan. “Gooooooal,” I yelled, making my kids laugh.
You see, in my 15 years of living in the U.S. (California, Virginia and now Seattle) I have to admit that this sport never captured my imagination. Players wearing helmets and tight pants? Referees who speak through microphones? I didn’t get it.
But leave it to my sports-crazed family and the victorious Seahawks to introduce me to the joy of another great American sport — for the record, I’m already down with baseball.
On Wednesday, we, like so many thousands of Seattleites, skipped school, endured a two-and-a-half hour bus commute and a two-hour wait in freezing temperatures for a glimpse of the players who have brought so much happiness to this city. My 8-year-old daughter said she’ll remember Blitz, the Seahawks mascot, waving at her. My 10-year-old posted a close-up photo of Richard Sherman on Instagram. And I shared in the excitement of the 12th Man as I made these sketches.