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Tuesday, December 07, 2004 - Page updated at 12:12 A.M.
Seahawks By Greg Bishop
Doug Arnett spent two months growing out his hair just so he could shave half of it off yesterday morning. So there he was, at 3:43 p.m., strolling in the Qwest Field Events Center, hair spiked into a green-and-blue-Mohawk ode to "Monday Night Football." That's what this game means to the sporting landscape, what the circus that accompanies this game means to a city that rarely hosts it and what "Monday Night Football" means to fans, with their Mohawks or movie-star locks in tow. "It's a national holiday every week," the Tacoma native said. "You have to go all the way the makeup, the hair. You have to do it all." So they came to Qwest Field last night as much for the spectacle as for the season. They came from Utah and Dallas and Tacoma, wearing Santa hats and hard hats with Seahawks logos on the side and even hats shaped like bowls of steaming chili. They fought through snarling traffic jams and bosses bent on a full day's work, imbibing everything alcoholic and eating everything from cookies cut in the shape of the Cowboys' star to the finest salmon Seattle has to offer. And they brought signs in hopes of a fleeting second of fame on national television. Signs like the one 29-year-old Alen Prieto carried through the Events Center, after brainstorming at the movies the night before. It read: "This is better than being with my wife." "I love her," Prieto said, "but my wife doesn't like football." That's "Monday Night Football," they tell you, each and every one of them. They call it "special" and "cultural" and a "spectacle unto itself." Scalpers outside Qwest Field said that tickets were going for less than face value, a sign of the Seahawks' season more than anything. But for those that purchased tickets specifically for Monday night, this game and all those circus rings around it signify something deeper in the sporting consciousness. "It has become a cultural thing, a cultural phenomenon," said Paul Johns, former Seahawk and current team assistant director of community outreach. "Just a simple song by Hank Williams Jr. is recognized by everybody. Now, it's a lot more visual the advertisements, commercials. It's really, really big-time now." Johns said this while waiting for scheduled Seahawks alumni to arrive in the Events Center to sign autographs. Apparently, Jacob Green and David Hughes were, like many Monday nighters, stuck in traffic. Not far away, in the stadium's north lot, friends and Missoula, Mont., residents Russ Bradstreet, 41, and Richard Hader, 42, were arguing about the game. Bradstreet, wearing a Cowboys jersey, predicted the Cowboys would run the Seahawks into the ground. Hader, wearing a Seahawks jersey, predicted a Seattle blowout. Nearby, Bradstreet's son celebrated his 16th birthday. What did "Monday Night Football" mean to them, other than a trip from Montana to Seattle? "It's the ultimate finale to a football week," Hader said. "It goes back to Howard Cosell, I guess," Bradstreet continued. "I remember when I was a kid, listening to him. That's what makes Monday night so great." "Even if we won't speak to each other for the next week," Hader interrupted, seemingly only half joking. All around the Montana mates, the north lot continued picking up. First, fans spotted an RV decorated with everything Seahawk, including a life-size picture of Shaun Alexander, the Seahawks' Mr. Prime Time. The RV towed a boat to the stadium, just so an inflatable Seahawk could greet fans from the captain's chair. Sluggers, a local watering hole, fenced in fans just outside the bar, a sardine-like tribute to the beauty of Monday night. Across the street from Sluggers, Jerry Leyva and his girlfriend, Veronica Carranza, held another sign that read "Came all the way from Dallas to see my favorite team Seattle." Asked how many other Seahawks fans there were in Dallas, Leyva answered quickly. "I'm the only one." But he wasn't alone in one respect. He wasn't the only fan of Monday night. "It's world famous," said Eric Anderton, 56, a Chief Sealth graduate now living in Utah. "We were told we had to try it at least once." He also carried a sign with a message to his wife. It read: "Sharon, I'll be home soon." Greg Bishop: 206-464-3191 or gbishop@seattletimes.com
Copyright © 2004 The Seattle Times Company
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