Teams that haven’t been there before don’t know what it’s like.
There is not one player on the Seahawks who has ever played in a Super Bowl, so don’t expect them to act as if they’ve been here before. Richard Sherman and his mates are about to hit the big time in this epic New York/New Jersey extravaganza at MetLife Stadium, and as they introduce themselves on the national stage, what face are they going to show?
Will it be the smiling, easy countenance of Russell Wilson, their impish dervish of a quarterback, all homespun and cute, a little guy with a big game, his endearing qualities just waiting to be illuminated in the spotlight? Or will it be the erudite, engaging and personable Sherman, the gifted cornerback who in many ways was what the NFL wants to promote until he showed little class in the aftermath of a rousing 23-17 victory over the 49ers in the rock-’em, sock-’em NFC Championship Game?
To the victors go the spoils and eliminating a despised division rival is something to crow about, but Sherman’s charmless “It’s about me’’ act, while entertaining and a gift-wrapped story for Eastern time zones, did not dignify the intensity and passion of the product two fierce teams put on the field.
In the hour of his greatest professional glory, the best Sherman had to offer was, at first, a strange and bitter riff on national TV about exacting payback on 49ers receiver Michael Crabtree. Then, as if he wanted to enforce these were not merely heat-of-the-moment ravings, a calmed-down Sherman looked gleeful derisively labeling Crabtree as “mediocre.”
Is this the best Sherman has to offer? He talks nice, but a choke sign on the field right after his game-clinching interception? Really? And then, gleefully and proudly explaining afterward, “That was for Kaepernick!’’ OK, the 49ers quarterback is not exactly the bastion of decorum with his biceps-kissing touchdown punctuation, and last week’s mimicking of Cam Newton’s Superman celebration wasn’t quite statesmanlike, but how about at least taking a brief stroll on the high road?
Sure, Sherman on Monday apologized via ESPN “for attacking an individual [Crabtree] and taking the attention away from the fantastic game by my teammates,’’ adding, “That was not my intent.’’ Perhaps not, but it was the result.
Once Sherman and his Seahawks arrive at the Super Bowl site they’ll spend a week with the world listening in on their every word. You can just hear them now clearing their throats. This is going to be Peyton Manning’s stage, his legacy game, played out on a city and field where younger brother Eli works and calls home. Wilson, after playing a mature, patient game against the Niners, said he was “honored’’ to share a Super Bowl with Manning, sincerely admitting he’d like his career, on and off the field, to emulate Manning’s.
Better the boyish, diminutive treasure arriving from the Pacific Northwest shines through as the symbol of the Seahawks. Another Stanford guy, Doug Baldwin, had a strong showing against the 49ers and then went on about how “irritated’’ he is that he and the other Seattle receivers are described as “pedestrian,” punctuating his postgame remarks with, “We’re going to walk our [butts] to the Super Bowl.’’ What’s with the water out there in Palo Alto? Does everyone have such a massive chip on his shoulder?
It’s an interesting team, underpublicized way out here on the East Coast. How the Seahawks handle their business before stepping foot on MetLife turf for Super Bowl XLVIII won’t determine if they can claim their first Lombardi Trophy, but it will say something about who and what they are.