Today marks the start of season number thirty-eight for the Seattle Seahawks. The first thirty-seven have seen the rise of names like Largent, Easley, Green, Krieg, Jones, Hasselbeck, Sherman, Lynch, and Wilson. We have witnessed the dawn of Ground Chuck, The Big Show, and now, Win Forever. There have been unforgettable moments: beating Dan Marino’s Dolphins on the road in the playoffs, Krieg shaking off 7.0 sacks from Derrick Thomas to throw the game-winner in Kansas City, the New York Giants unable to run their offense in the din of then Qwest Field, the glory of a dominant NFC Championship victory, and a Beast Quake that history will not soon forget. Yet, there is no player or year that defines this franchise. It is you, me, and the rest of the teeming throng of people that somehow always adds up to 12.

Every Seahawk player and coach is eventually replaced with someone new. Even team owners come and go. The 12s are the one constant. We are the gravity that holds Planet Seahawk together. Sure, there are people that come and people that go within the fan base, but the entity remains constant. The franchise has seen playoff droughts of seven and ten years. The 12s endure. There have been moving vans ready to move the team to California. The 12s endure. For every Hasselbeck or Krieg, there has been a Gelbaugh or Mirer. And the 12s have endured. We do not stick around because we love the pain. There is a belief that unites us. A belief that we will one day see the Lombardi Trophy make its way back to Seattle. And make no mistake about it, that championship will have been earned by you and by me as much as by any member of the team of on the field. We will be champions, and the taste of victory will be sweeter than any nectar.

So much is made this time of year about predictions. Many believe this will be the season that Seattle experiences their first Super Bowl win. That very well may be true, but even if that does not happen this year, I will be hear next year, and I know you will be flanking me on all sides. We are 12. Our blue does not fade.

And so we begin again, with new life and renewed hopes. There will be moments of peril and moments of bliss. We will argue and commend each other. We will unnerve and comfort each other. This season will be memorable. But not only for the play on the field, but for the bonds we form off it. I welcome all the newcomers and the casual fans. There is nothing quite like a city in love. Should the stars align just right, though, there will be a level of euphoria that can only be reached by fellow fans who have known the pain of 37 years ending in defeat.

We are 12. It is an honor to be among you once more.