When Brady saw the ball in Butler’s arms, he jumped so high that he could’ve just about landed in the corporate level of the University of Phoenix Stadium. There was genuine surprise in his eyes. Or was that shock? Either way, the reaction suggested that Brady had, if not yet resigned himself to losing a third consecutive Super Bowl appearance, was at least mentally preparing for a last-gasp attempt to steal back a lead. He couldn't believe the call.
When Kearse made his ridiculous catch – right up there with the David Tyree ‘Helmet Catch’ and Mario Manningham’s ‘Sideline Catch’ in terms of outright implausibility – Seattle had the game for the taking. They ran Marshawn Lynch, and he nearly went into the end zone, but was dragged down at about the one.
Still time, and Beast Mode was able to sniff a second-straight Super Bowl championship. Run him again, right? Maybe straight ahead, or off to one side to maybe eat a few seconds and give Brady less chance for a Hail Mary-type answer. It was almost inevitable. Lynch has scarcely been stopped from that close in his career. Not just this season – but ever.
Then, Pete Carroll or Darrell Bevell or whomever it was in the Seattle brains trust who dreamed up the next play became the most infamous man in Seattle sporting history, if not the history of the Super Bowl. Credit to Pete Carroll: in post-game interviews, he took full credit, but if there’s one thing I’ve noticed about the Seahawks coach in the many years I’ve watched him at the NFL and, before, when he was coach at the University of Southern California, it’s that it isn’t his style to throw someone under the bus. Perhaps Pete was covering for his offensive coordinator here.
Maybe it was Carroll or maybe it was Bevell who made the fateful call. At this point, though, it hardly matters, does it? What matters is how the play unfolded. What matters is that the short Wilson throw into a tiny bracket, the ball that was eventually lifted away by Butler, and with it Seattle’s chances at a rare back-to-back Super Bowl triumph melted away.
From the jaws of near-certain victory – or, at least, reassuming a lead with very few seconds left on the clock – somehow the men from the Pacific Northwest managed to snatch the worst and most extraordinarily cruel defeat. But it is the play calling circumstances under which the Seahawks lost that make this such a tough pill for all Seahawks fans (and anyone who can’t stand New England) to swallow.
Why, when the field is compressed, would you make such a dangerous throw? Sure, if you didn’t have a guy the calibre of Marshawn Lynch lined up in the backfield, maybe you’d call it. But the fact is, Seattle do have Lynch, and you’d just about put your life on the fact that, on any of the remaining downs, Beast Mode was gonna cash in. That’s what he does. That’s what he’s always done. It’s why the rabid fans chant “Beeeeeeeeeeeeast” up in Seattle. Lynch is a cult figure because of exactly the sort of barrelling run that was required in the dying seconds of Super Bowl XLIX.
In the immediate aftermath, NBC’s Cris Collinsworth started the parade of analysts panning the Seahawks call. You know that it’s pretty bad when, Collinsworth, the world’s most positive football analyst, says it’s bad.
Deion Sanders called said it was “the worst play-call in Super Bowl history,” and, you know, he wasn’t far wrong. Rodney Harrison and Tony Dungy said post-game on NBC that Seattle had made the wrong call. Later on ESPN, Hall of Fame quarterback Steve Young looked perplexed, laughing awkwardly at replays. Tom Jackson said he’d have run the ball. You and me both, TJ. You and me both.
Word leaked out via Twitter that players were openly ripping the final play call – at least, those who could talk over their grief – in the locker room doesn’t come as a huge surprise to me. It’s such a horrible way to lose, and those players must be feeling absolute gut-wrenching despair at the moment. How sick must Russell Wilson feel right now? Beyond that, I feel. He’s probably inconsolable.
And with good reason, because there’s so much to question. It was a monumental brain-fade that will likely be one of the most talked-about Super Bowl moments a hundred years from now.
Pete Carroll’s words in post-game press conference about how he was trying to have Russell Wilson throw the ball in order take advantage of whatever formation the Patriots were showing on that down and try to run it with Lynch the down after made no sense to me. Honestly, as confused as the explanation was, I’m not even sure I got the gist of it properly, but as Steve Young said on ESPN, if, at any time, you don’t like the defensive formation in front of you, call a time out and think about it come more. Especially given the gravity of the situation.
Alas, the Seahawks did not, and after being defeated thanks to some rather miraculous plays in two previous Super Bowl appearances, the Patriots received a little luck the other way, and win their first championship in ten years – congratulations to them, for coming back from ten down, a championship-worthy effort. They celebrate and Seattle commiserate, but it could have been so much different.
If not for the Call Heard ‘Round The World.
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