Seahawks Sign Roma Downey

(screenshot courtesy of goddardtp)

I'm sorry for being late with the recap. I've only now regained command of the English language.

For the last three hours I've been speaking in tongues. At least four of 'em, by my count. I'm not sure what they were, but Kate thought she heard me saying something Slavic.

Even now I kinda feel like switching to a Cyrillic keyboard.

In case you turned off your TV when the Cowboys lined up for their 19-yard, game-winning chip shot field goal with 1:15 or so left in the game this evening -- well, I don't blame you. I wouldn't want to see the Seahawks' Season of Inches end on such a sure thing after three and a half quarters of the frustration that was typical of their 2006-07 season. I was stuck at the stadium, so I didn't have a choice, except to hide my eyes. But I didn't get my hands up in time.

So I found myself helplessly watching, as Martin Gramatica lined up to put the boot on the Seahawks' disappointing post-Super Bowl season. Placekickers simply do not miss 19-yard field goal attempts in the NFL.

I mean, how could they screw this up? Game over, dude! The only possible, possible chance the Seahawks have is... I dunno, maybe something completely crazy, like... say, if Tony Romo bobbles the snap, has to take off with the ball towards the end zone, and is cut down before he gets there by a Seattle defender. Like, just for the sake of argument, Babineaux. That's it! You know what I'm sayin'? That's the only chance we have to win this game. And that kind of thing... well, it just doesn't happen in the NFL. That's crazy talk.

Yeah, crazy talk.

Of course, by that point, the whole 4th quarter of the game was legally insane anyway.

I'm still uncertain where to start even talking about this. The NFL playoffs are supposed to be Homeric affairs. This game was straight-up Vonnegut.

Terrell Owens was supposed to light up the troubled Seattle secondary. He did -- once. He caught one more pass and wasn't heard from again.

Jerramy Stevens, town goat (who received only polite applause from the crowd in pre-game intros), was supposed to drop a few sure things, killing some promising Seahawks drives. He had his best game of the past two seasons -- maybe ever -- and scored Seattle's only two touchdowns.

The troubled Dallas secondary was supposed to have their hands full after a late-season defensive letdown. They slammed a lot of Matt Hasselbeck's downfield options down and picked him off twice.

The depleted, big-play-sacrificing Seattle secondary was supposed to get flustered covering T.O. and Terry Glenn, and make some crucial route-running and coverage errors. They allowed one pass to go over 30 yards. And that was to a tight end.

The Seahawks offense was supposed to finally light up after a season of underachievement. They came up short in the red zone, including one series in which they had first-and-goal and the 1.

And Tony Romo was supposed to get the ball down.

None of this game went the way it was supposed to. In the fourth quarter, it lost any semblence of normality and just turned into a freak show.

We have always been kind to freaks in this town. That's why I love Seattle.

I still can't sum up this game. I can't begin to talk about it. This is the Tristram Shandy of sports articles. I should just put a big black box in the next paragraph and walk away for awhile.

You just don't experience these kinds of up-and-down emotions and make heads or tails of it the minute you sit down! One minute I'm cocky, the next minute I'm depressed, then I'm energized again, then I'm depressed again, then I'm fatalistic, then I'm ready to reconcile the end, pack up and go home...

And then Romo bobbles the snap.

It doesn't make sense. It just doesn't make sense. Did I say Vonnegut? I meant William S. Burroughs.

Screw it. I can't write this now. I'll drop some cogent thoughts on this game on Sunday. Right now, though, it's 12:01 in the morning, and in my normally quiet neighborhood, exactly thirty seconds ago, somebody just said "Woo! Seahawks!" outside my apartment window. That just doesn't happen around here.

The Seahawks win, 21-20. They advance to the next round of the playoffs.

Al Michaels has now witnessed his second miracle. Lucky bastard.