So Long, Petey

This one is a little overdue and dripping with irony, as I'm a Seahawk fan who could just as easily be saying "Hiya Petey."  But my blood and bones are Irish, and saying goodbye feels so much better these days than saying hello.

My focus could be on how certain I am that Pete Carroll will fail at the helm of another pro team.  On how past performance (34-33 in four seasons including playoffs) is the best indicator of future performance.  On how his approach on all levels has been closer to that of a song girl than a four star general, and why that won't work in the NFL.  On how reliance on seemingly God-given recruiting superiority and the ability to work NCAA regulations over like a contestent on The Biggest Loser mean nothing on Sunday.  On how staring intently with hands on knees and then skipping down the sidelines with back-slapping rah-rah giddyness doesn't exactly convince millionaire players that you have what it takes to put rings on their fingers.

I could be raging pissed at how the Seahawks' front office has handled this.  About how they have apparently adopted the Washington Redskin approach to building a franchise.  About how amateur they look when they hire a head coach before a GM.  About how they think having a Head Coach and a GM that don't have a direct reporting relationship somehow creates a good dynamic.  About how they booted a hometown guy who loves this city and its fans, and who would have never left us in the lurch except maybe to take the other job in town that just happens to be his alma mater.  About how they couldn't get a deal done with Mike Holmgren and think this somehow makes up for it.

But no.

Rather than focus on all that, I turn to my Irish side.  "So Long, Petey."  I sure am glad you left your program in such great shape.  I sure am glad the only person more over-paid and under-qualified for their new job than you is now the head coach of USC.  I sure am happy to see that running a clean program is going to be a new focus down there.  I will miss the way you used to stubbornly refuse to believe that your team could be stopped on 4th and 3 in your own territory so often.  Sometimes you reminded me of Charlie in that way.  Well, without the spittle in corner of your mouth anyway.  I'll miss you for the way you used to bad mouth your own kind when they were on their way out as well.  I'll miss the classical music that played on your personal website - I really liked listening to that while reading about how great you are.  But most of all, I'll miss the look of pure horrific shock on your face that would arrive each year when some unranked PAC 10 team would outscheme you while you were busy butt-slappin'.  Such a motivator.

I could remember you for your record against the Irish, but not today.  This is a time for new beginnings right?  There's just so much to look forward to in South Bend, and the circus you've left behind in LA will be more entertaining than watching Charlie try to drag you down with him on the way out.  I'd wish you good luck, but I think we both know... you used yours up in 2005. 

And so I simply say "So Long, Petey... See ya on the sidelines in Seattle."

"Wouldn't want to be ya."

Kelly Green Warpath

Dear Brian,
Welcome to the Warpath. May your resume be clean and your stay with us long and profitable to all parties. May your tenure be (in order of importance) full of wins, free of scandal, and fun to watch. May you someday know the ring size of multiple fingers on your hand. May you be blessed with an uncanny ability to impress high school players, coaches, teachers, and moms with an energetic and magnetic personality that suggests you are the ultimate molder of men, deliverer of titles, and launching pad toward playing on Sunday. May 5 star recruits line up to play with you like frosh girls at the YoCream machine, and may they all live up to the hype (the recruits that is). May you stop the run. May you hire an incredible Defensive Coordinator who can stop time, stop a train, stop anything. May you show us what the term “schematic advantage” really means. May you consistently demonstrate mastery of whatever college football throws your way in terms of arcane clock stoppage and other meddling rules. May your tenure be blessed with a procession of quality Quarterbacks longer than a post game drive back to Chicago. May your players find the endzone efficiently and often, may they be willing to run through walls for you, and may we all believe that they could actually do it. May we lament an excessive celebration penalty every once in awhile. May you be as successful as Harbaugh at beating Pete Carroll, without being such an ass about it. May you embrace our tradition boldly, while not letting it deter you from accomplishing anything else wished for you here. May you never think the green jerseys are a good idea. Ever. May you laugh sarcastically at the thought of joining a conference. May you end the conversations about our relevance. May we rise from the ashes, return to glory, rise and strike, and everything else ever printed on the Shirt. May you someday be a statue. Give us what we want and we will love you forever.  May it all come true.