DIN JINN

September 20, 2007 by Jo Sparkes

Going to games these days is a very different thing from Sun Devil Stadium.

Tailgating on grass intended to be tailgated on is fun. I don’t miss the old days of finding a brown patch or letting the asphalt cook your hot dog. Even the heat itself is less stifling when you know you’ll be in air-conditioned comfort for the kickoff.

But the biggest, absolutely biggest change is the fans. Still diehards, still bleeding red, but so many more of us. To stand out now they paint faces and stuff red birds, when years gone by the mere fact of being there in 110 degrees made you stand out.

As we march our way into the Coil (University of Phoenix just doesn’t roll off the tongue for me, so it’s the Snake ‘Coil’), we see opposing fans heading in, but they relatively few in number. Time was in Sun Devil the other team fans seemed to overwhelm us, but in a sold out stadium of season ticket holders, that no longer happens.

“Still, Sun Devil had its advantages,” my husband says. I ask him to name one.

He’s watching three blondes find their seats. “In the heat the women tend to wear less.” This, naturally, earned him a very cold shoulder.

A covey of Hawks fans settle in our row, close enough that the husband carefully sits between us. He thinks I get too vocal from time to time. I have no idea where he got this notion.

When the Seahawk fan with blonde hair painted blue squeezes past, I ask if he’s from Seattle.

He grins, “how’d you guess?”

I didn’t; I’m used to local fans who jump on other team’s bandwagons. But I can appreciate a true diehard from another city, making the trip to support his team. Still, I ought to put him his place – right?

“By the way,” he adds, still grinning. “You guys were impressive against San Francisco. Good game.”

Okay, maybe I won’t put him in his place.

Seattle had very little to cheer about the first half, unlike those of us in red. Special teams shined with touchbacks and a blocked punt. I pounded my husband for minutes, yelling – ‘I told you Morey was good!’ Morey, you see, was my idea. I yelled to Whis to keep him in preseason, and he obviously values my judgment.

I cannot claim credit for that delightful setting the ball on the one-yard line. Couldn’t even pronounce Celestin’s name.

Then came the third quarter. I chewed off two fingernails as our lead narrowed. And narrowed. When Seattle pulled ahead of us, 20-17, ghosts of old and unlamented games rose before my eyes. I had that deja ‘boo boo’ feeling.

Fortunately, Whis, Grimm, and the players either didn’t see or didn’t heed those ghosts. As we all stood on our feet, screaming ourselves dizzy, stamping our feet, the crowd watched Seattle gain another first down. Moving into field goal range.

The crowd did not give up. We renewed our efforts every drive — shouting louder, screaming more, refusing to yield.

When Gerald Hayes broke through that line – and I saw that football bounce along the field – I honestly thought I’d dreamed it. I swear I didn’t breathe the entire length of time it took for the Ref to signal our ball.

And if the crowd had been loud before, the reaction to that signal made Los Angeles seismologists nervous.

From that point on, we truly had the Edge. Everyone in that stadium knew Edge would get the ball, and if Seattle had just stopped him we’d have gone into overtime. At this very moment scouts around the league are shredding their old reports on Sendlein.

I loved reading Neil Racker’s comments later. Knowing how eerily similar his final field goal was to that infamous Chicago game, he was later asked, “Were you nervous?” His response was “Hell no.” Apparently he’d kicked it 500 times since in the off-season.

Now that’s how you slay your demons.

I swear in Racker’s last – check that, his second to last kickoff, you could see the Seattle returner determined to run it out, even if it was yet another touchback. He stood there in the end zone, so ready, so hungry – and the ball sailed over his head.

Seattle fans can moan and shake their fists, declaring that if only they hadn’t bungled that snap … if only they’d stopped that final drive. It’s perfectly okay. I can remember past games where I did the same thing.

The next day I read Hasselbeck’s comments, that the Seattle confusion was a direct result of the crowd noise. Cardinal Crowd noise.

Me.

And when Coach Whisenhunt praised me – I mean us – I actually cleared a space on my living room bookcase. Between my autographed Anquan Boldin picture and my football signed by Nate Poole. Clearing space for MY game ball, you see. The crowd’s game ball.

We intend to earn one this season.

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