FAN-DEMONIUM
Hold on to your seismometer, it’ll be loud in Seattle
The story behind what gives Seahawks such an advantage at CenturyLink Field
Hank Gola,
WHEN THE gates open at CenturyLink Field for Saturday’s NFC divisional playoff game, Lorin Sandretzky will pass through, silent for just a moment. In the enclosed staircase near the entrance, the fan better known as “Big Lo” will project his trained baritone voice through the diaphragm of his 6-foot-8, 470-pound frame. “Seeeeeee Haaaaaaaaaawks.” It will be the siren call to arms for 68,000 wackos collectively known as the 12th Man. Any visiting player will vouch for it. They are as much a part of the game as Russell Wilson or Marshawn Lynch. The Seahawks hope to ride their lung power all the way to Super Bowl XLVIII with the biggest home-field advantage in the NFL. “It’s a big deal for us as fans,” says Mark Olsen, who has missed just two games in 13 years as a season-ticket holder. “It’s more a fact at this point that we have a direct impact on the ballgame. And I think that’s where the special connection with the team grows from, that the players know w e
have that impact. And any advantage in this NFL is a huge advantage.”
In a 2005 game, the Giants committed 11 false start penalties. GM Ernie Accorsi wanted the league to investigate whether the Seahawks had pumped in artificial noise. It was all natural.
In a wild-card playoff game against the Saints three years ago, Lynch broke off an incredible 67yard touchdown run and as the running back was bullying defenders, the roar of the crowd set off an old geologic sensor under where the Kingdome once stood, implanted to record tectonic shifts that may endanger the Alaskan Way Viaduct.
It was known as the Beast Quake. When the Saints returned for a Monday night game this season, the fans set that sensor off three more times. This time, they will have a seismometer in the stadium itself.
According to stadium architect David Murphy, it’s just what they were looking for when they left what was known as the Thunderdome.
“We had the legacy of the Kingdome, and while there were a lot of things that we were working to improve on that building, there were a number of things they held dear,” Murphy says. “The noise and the home-field advantage was one of them. So we worked real hard to get fans on top of the action. And then (Seahawks owner) Paul Allen had very fond memories of going into (the University of Washington’s) Husky Stadium as a kid and encouraged us at some of our first meetings to go out there and look at what made Husky special. He wanted to make sure the fans were covered. At first he wanted natural grass so he wanted an open roof. As we started looking at it, what makes it loud is that roof.”
“But you’ve also got t he fans. The 12th Man is no hype,” Murphy said. “I went to the NFC Championship Game there (seven years ago) and my ears were ringing for days.”
Nick Shelly, another longtime season-ticket holder, says it’s part of a culture unique to Seattle, in the tradition of Bill the Beer Man, a vendor who in the ’70s and ’80s led cheers in his bellowing voice while dispensing cold ones.
“He kind of started that whole ‘there’s no reason not to be crazy when you go to a game’ culture. It kind of carried over to the Washington Huskies and then to the Supersonics when they were really great in the ’80s,” Shelly explains. “So it carried over into the Kingdome, where we started trying to see how loud we could make it to be hard on the other team. When we got to the new place, the fans just became super fans. In the old days, it wasn’t like that. It was kind of shameful to be walking around with a Seahawks jersey on. Now that’s all you see.”
Leif Heide is a Seahawks fan who lives in Minneapolis. He has a full-time job counseling kids who end up on felony charges. He took a part-time job loading planes at the airport so he could fly free to games. He has taken 89 trips. He has a special way of preparing for games.
“I try to save my voice,” he says. “I’ll take some aspirin and I’ll drink tea the day before the game. Tailgating, people start doing the Seahawks chants before the game. I refrain. I save it for the game.
“You save it for defense, of course. I try to refrain using my voice on good offensive plays. But it’s full on from the opening kickoff. You can’t save it for the second half. You try to get loud the entire time your defense is on the field. Your voice is pretty trashed by halftime, but you play through the pain.”
Shelly will be in the front row of the south end zone on Saturday, along with KiltMan and Mr. and Mrs. Seahawk. Sandretzky will be there, smacking his Sea Fence signs together with SeaPimp on his right and Bam Bam on his left.
“He’s the guy who bangs on the wall . . . just kind of smacks the wall with his hair flopping in the wind,” notes Big Lo, who has taken to shaving his head on weekends this year. “He hasn’t done it for a while because his back’s been hurting.”
Sandretzky says he starts his screaming when the opposing offense is heading into the huddle. The noise level, he says, is kept up even after the snap. He also says female fans are as loud as the men.
“Absolutely, if not louder,” he says. “Those are the birth moms, all the girls who produce the babies, they’ve got the guts. That’s just it. You’ve got to do different pitches. It seems that’s what generates that loud energy. I’ll hear a guy to my right screaming at one level and the guy on my left screaming at another and I’ll just try to find a range in between.”
Olsen says one of his friends, a singer in a heavy metal band, goes full throat all game. Olsen says he moderates himself, saving his loudest for third and fourth down. Heide says it all blends in anyway.
“I’ve brought probably 15 different friends from Minnesota to games in Seattle just so they can experience the anthropology of it,” he notes. “And the way I describe it to people as far as how loud it will get it is, when I can’t hear my own voice yelling at its max and separate its sound from the cacophony around me is when I know the crowd is really into it. It becomes a white noise.”
“That’s exactly right,”
Olsen says. “Your ears can’t really register the amount of noise coming in, and what ends up happening − and this is my favorite part of those moments − your body starts vibrating. I’m not kidding. There is a vibration in your chest where you can feel the sound rather than hear the sound. . . .
“It’s an amazing phenomenon that I’ve never had outside of that stadium.”
Neither have many visiting teams.
“It is funny when we’re watching the opponents’ sidelines,” Olsen says. “They’re holding up these signs with the most bizarre looking pictures on them, doing all these hand signals and arm signals, trying to get the plays in. It really is funny watching that and looking at the confusion as they try to make sure everybody is holding the right sign. The Saints had big poster boards of Jimi Hendrix.”
The thing is, at least 95% of the crowd is participating.
“The people that don’t, the more reserved who would rather just sit and watch the game, when you have everybody around you yelling and standing up and screaming, there is an absolute peer pressure of, ‘I’ve got to do this otherwise I look like the sore thumb, like a loser sitting here in my Seahawks jersey while ile everyone else is making a bunch nch of noise,” Olsen says.
“If you’re there and not participating, I don’t understand d why you’d want to be there,” Heide sneers. “Part of the enjoyment yment comes the belief that you are re participating in the game.” And earplugs? “Oh, hell no,” Olsen scowls. cowls. “When you’ve got kids there re in the stadium, put ear protection on them but otherwise, you don’t get the e full feel of the experience if f you’ve got earplugs in. I understand people are worried about hearing loss and all of f that, but come on, I’m never going to wear ear protection, no doubt about it.”
Pete Carroll, like some coaches, obviously doesn’t have to ask his fans to be loud but he did suggest on the radio this week that they try to set the postseason decibel record on Saturday. They took the alltime outdoor stadium record back from Chiefs fans at 131.9 during the 49ers game. One of Carroll’s mantras for his players is “always compete,” so he extended that challenge to the 12th Man.
They should be up to the task.
“Everybody wants this. This is our year. We’ve been waiting for a long, long time,” Sandretzky says. “We’ve been the armpit of the league. It’s time for us to not stink anymore and get this sucker down and win it.”
If they do, you’ll hear it.