He is the Walrus

I haven't always loathed the Seattle Seahawks. In fact, some of my earliest memories of watching football involved the gun slinging and entirely likable underdogs of the AFC West led by Dave Kreig, Steve Largent, and Curt Warner. My Pop Warner team was even nicknamed the Seahawks.

Notwithstanding any residual nostalgia of my youth, it's been personal since January 8, 1999.

It's not about the decision to transform their uniforms into something that is FUBAR. It's not about their post-realignment move to the NFC. It's not about pawning off one of the most cherished college football traditions as their own (in a stadium named after a horizontally integrated communications company in the Pacific Northwest, no less). It's certainly not about Matt Hasselbeck (bless his soul, the act isn't even comical anymore, its just irritating at this point).

The YouTube video featured in a previous post may actually have a little to do with it.

But mostly, the seminal event of my hatred is the day that Mike Holmgren resigned as head coach of the Green Bay Packers to accept a position as Head Coach/General Manager/Vice President of Football Operations with the Seahawks. I think they even threw in some canned sardines and a belly rub.

I know, I know. I'm well aware of the depth of my ingratitude. After all, the man put the "Title" back into Titletown, USA.

The one thing that I can't and won't ever forgive is the opportunity to make the Packers of the late 20th Century a historically significant team. Instead, we became the flock without a shepherd. He abandoned us. He abandoned Brett Favre at the peak of his remarkable career. He is directly responsible for the appointment of Mike Sherman as the Packers general manager (I have no doubt the Packers brass did this to spite Holmgren after his departure).

I remember his return to Lambeau Field the following season on a Monday Night in November. To see him on the opposing sideline, wearing another team's colors, is something that still, almost eight years later, induces mild nausea. The Packers were soundly beaten that night, 27-7, in a fitting summation of what it was like to have Ray Rhodes holding the clipboard.

"See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly."

It is for this that I delight in their failures (see: Holmgren's embarrassing post-Super Bowl tirade at the refs). I actively pull for their opponent every week of the season. Even this week, I back our oldest rivals, the Bears. This Sunday, I look forward to watching a wide-open Jerramy Stevens drop perfectly thrown passes. I will toast Brian Urlacher when he separates Matt Hasselbeck's helmet from his head. And I applaud any Bears fan that embarks to Soldier Field and brings with them fresh mackerel and chum. Mike might get hungry on the plane ride back to the aquarium...umm...Seattle.