Day 39: Seahawks and the Underdog Within
Back in the 1980's, the Seattle Seahawks were the underdogs. Not flashy or highly favored. They were not expected to win, much less dominate. And that’s exactly why my dad chose them. He believed the underdog always rises eventually, but only by earning their place rather than having it handed to them. He loved them when no one expected much from them. I grew up carrying that with me. At first, because my dad loved them. Later, because I understood the philosophy. You don’t need early approval to be real. You don’t have to be chosen first to finish strong.
He never got to see how far they’d go. My dad passed away in a tragic accident in 1985, when I was nine months old, long before the Seahawks ever reached the Super Bowl. But the belief stayed. I grew up carrying it before I had words for what it meant.
People used to joke about my loyalty to the underdogs. For rooting for teams, stories, and people that weren’t favored. About my optimism. About choosing something that didn’t look impressive. But I didn’t see weakness. I saw potential and grit. I saw something familiar. I was never drawn to certainty or entitlement. I was drawn to the long arc. The slow build. Plus, I have been treated like an underdog most of my life. Written off. Cast aside more times than I can count. Doubted and reduced to my past. Treated like I wouldn’t amount to anything because of where I came from or how long it took me to find my footing. Spoken to like I should be grateful for scraps of belief instead of being trusted with potential I hadn’t been allowed to show yet. And for a long time, that got internalized. Until it didn’t. Underdogs don’t rise all at once. They rise through seasons and losses. Through staying when it would’ve been easier to quit.
I watched this team rise slowly, year after year, staying in the game when others wrote them off. And I learned something from that. You don’t win by proving people wrong loudly. You win by staying longer than the doubt.
In 2014, one of the hardest and most transformative years of my life, the Seahawks won the Super Bowl. Their first Super Bowl, in one of my most intense personal years. Joy and grief lived side by side that year. Strength forged under pressure. And now, 2026, here we are again. Same team. Same underdog energy and same reminder, even after all this time. I can’t ignore the alignment. The timing. The continued guidance and reassurance.
Watching them take the Super Bowl again, all these years later, felt like more than a game. It felt like confirmation. Like a reminder that being underestimated doesn’t mean being incapable. And that the story isn’t finished until the clock actually runs out. I don’t need the validation, but it reminded me that patience pays. That faith compounds. And that timing reveals what persistence protects. Sometimes the Universe leaves breadcrumbs just to remind you that you’re not imagining the path that you’re on. It’s surreal when it happens.
Football makes this visible in a way life often doesn’t. You can watch momentum shift in real time. You can see preparation meet opportunity. You can feel how belief compounds long before results show up on a scoreboard. The game isn’t over until it’s over. That applies to football and life. And it applies to people who refuse to leave the field just because someone else decided they shouldn’t be there.
I’m not here because I was favored. I’m here because I stayed with myself. And that’s something no scoreboard can measure until the very end.
Tonight, I felt my parents with me, especially my dad. Still guiding me. Still right. It’s confirmation that guidance doesn’t end when a life does… it just changes form.
Quiet Part Day 39: The underdog rises by staying in the game. Faith, patience, and time. My father was right, even beyond this life.
February 8th, 2026
