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Beware of the Birds

As much as I'd like to believe that Pittsburgh will handle Seattle with relative ease on Super Bowl Sunday, I'm more convinced that this game is going to come down to the wire.  

How have the Seahawks flown under the radar for so long this season?  Well the easy answer is they play in the NFC West with perennial doormats Arizona and San Francisco.  The other of course, and it really is an extension of the first, is that they get relatively little media exposure in Seattle.  The regional games on FOX simply aren't aired to the majority of NFL loving fans around the country; only in the Pacific Northwest. Just because they beat who they're supposed to beat and do so in relative anonymity aren't legitimate reasons to doubt a football team. As lame as the cliche is, 'you are what you are', it's true, and the Seahawks are a 15-3 football team.  

Does anybody remember that the Seahawks started the season 2-2, before rattling off 10 straight wins?  I don't care who you win 10 games in a row against the quality of athletes and coaches in today's NFL is simply outstanding.  You have to be consistent, play good defense, and have a coach who keeps the troops focused.  Seattle has all three.

These reasons (along with many others) are mostly accountable for why Pittsburgh is more than a FG favorite on Sunday.  How exactly does a 13-3 team in this year's NFL garner so little respect?  I was certain that people would accept the Seahawks as legitimate title contenders after they absolutely shelled the Eagles on Monday Night Football.  Naysayers, however, were quick to point out that McNabb and T.O both weren't playing.  Good points, but I didn't notice anybody missing from an Eagles defense that was still considered well above average at the time.  

That game was a microcosm for their season:  Accomplish impressive things that fail to get noticed.  

Here's hoping the Steelers momentum from the past 2 months is too much for the Seahwaks to handle.  If we aren't playing at least our A- game, this one's gonna be decided at the end by the right foot of a short, stocky white guy.