It was my senior year in high school.
I was in a poetry class.
We were given the assignment to write a poem starting with the words: I Predict...
I predicted that the Seahawks would win the Superbowl.
I believed it when they didn't make the playoffs for years on end...
I believed it Sunday as the national anthem was sung and the camera panned from Seahawk to Seahawk, 12th man to 12th man.
Faces painted
Hands over hearts
Earnest expressions
Lips moving in silent prayer
And then the kick-off...plates loaded...no, I haven't switched to baseball, my paper plate was loaded with all the necessities to get me through a screaming, jumping, tension-filled championship game of football.
I needed fuel for the fight.
But there wasn't a fight.
It was a whipping that involved a lot of cheering and jumping and dancing...and dance we did.
We laughed a lot too.
And then it happened...5, 4, 3, 2....SUPERBOWL CHAMPS!!!!!
The room went wild!!!
And every 12th man was rewarded for their loyalty...for waiting patiently...for believing...for standing firm through the years of drought...of doubt...
Until the perfect combination of leadership, talent and teamwork were fused into a championship!!
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