Like, really hates them:
So though I love the city of Seattle and root for MLB’s Mariners and wish the NBA’s SuperSonics were still there, every ounce of NFL blood in my perpetually prone body will be dedicated to seeing someone beat the Seahawks between now and Super Bowl XLVIII.
“Wish the NBA’s SuperSonics were still there?” “Perpetually prone?” Slow down, Norm, you’re makin’ me hot.
The Seahawks are 13-3 because, with Wilson at quarterback, they play smart offensive football, coupled with bruising defensive football. A fan could fall in love with them, except that they’re already so in love with themselves.
How in love with themselves?
The wide receivers signal first down after every catch. The linebackers pound their chests after every defensive stop. It’s a miracle half the team isn’t on injured reserve from spraining their arms trying to pat themselves on the back.
Sounds like every other player in the NFL.
Nobody on the Seahawks just makes a play and goes back to the huddle. They are a chirping, preening lot of look-at-me-I’m-the-baddest-man-on-the-planet showboaters.
Again, like every other player in the NFL.
Sooner or later, the Seahawks are going to give up a touchdown while celebrating a hard hit.
Yep, just like every other…you know what, forget it. Let’s find out what is this really about….
All of this is a reflection of their around-the-clock, strut-and-swagger leader, Pete Carroll.
…there it is!
In Seattle, the Seahawks have led the NFL in substance-abuse suspensions — five — since Carroll became coach in 2010. Carroll is the only coach in NFL history with an offensive coordinator, a defensive coordinator and a PED coordinator.
Oh, Chad, you slay me. But seriously, what is this really about?
During games, Carroll bounds along the sideline. Sometimes he sprints alongside a play if, say, the Seahawks force a turnover and are returning it for a score. Sometimes he rips off his headset and charges toward an official to argue a call.
Gee, I’d hate to ask what Norm thinks of Jim Harbaugh. Wait, what’s that? He thinks he’s a brat? Anyway, back to that whole “what is this really about?” thing:
My disdain for Carroll grew out of a moment I witnessed before he was even a head coach.
It was a Jets-at-Dolphins contest on Dec. 20, 1992. After a Tony Martin touchdown catch with 2 minutes 30 seconds to go in the fourth quarter, Dolphins place kicker Pete Stoyanovich missed an extra point that would’ve tied the game, and the TV cameras caught Carroll — then defensive coordinator of the Jets — gleefully putting his hands around his neck in a choke sign.
What a lovely, classy gesture, I thought.
Well, there you have it. Norman Chad doesn’t hate the Seahawks based on how the players conduct themselves on the field, because if that were true, his beef is with the entire NFL (I wonder how he feels about players on shitty teams treating every first down as if they just made the Super Bowl?). And he can spare us the finger-wagging over the off-field transgressions, because a handful of guys getting busted for smoking weed (MARIJUANA BAD!) definitely means nobody else in the NFL is doing it.
Instead, his disdain is based on a not-very-nice thing Pete Carroll did 21 years ago — as a defensive coordinator — that only Norman Chad remembers. Hell, Pete Stoyanovich probably doesn’t even remember, because he had more important things on his mind — like basking in the glory of being an All-Pro and going to the playoffs with the Dolphins. But, you really want to know why nobody remembers? Because that game was the 11th loss of a 4-12 Jets season, and people — not Norm, of course — tend to forget inconsequential moments from meaningless games at the end of losing seasons.