It has been three years since the calamity of Super Bowl 49 (or XLIX if you insist) passed before the unbelieving eyes of Seattle Seahawks fans.  Time dulls the pain but does not erase it.  The Seahawks’ final offensive play of the game – a Russell Wilson pass intercepted by Malcom Butler at the goal line – is what twists the knife, but the wound had already been inflicted.

The Seahawks had the best defense in the NFL that year.  Some thought it was the best defense in the history of the league, although fans of the 1970s Steelers or 1980s Bears might disagree.  Entering the fourth quarter of that game, the Seahawks had a ten-point lead.  In the 48 previous Super Bowls, no team had ever come back from a fourth quarter deficit of ten points or more.

The Patriots erased that deficit against the best defense in the NFL and took the lead.  Even after that, in the final minute Seattle had the ball a yard away from the New England goal line with enough time left to pull off a miracle of their own.

Instead of giving the ball to a premier running back, Marshawn Lynch, they threw a pass that was intercepted at the goal line.  Suppose you were the manager of a baseball team down a run in the bottom of the ninth inning with two outs, the bases loaded, and Barry Bonds at the plate.  Your slowest runner is on third base.  If you decided to have the guy on third steal home instead of letting Bonds swing away, your call would not have been as monumentally bad as the decision to throw that pass.  Fifty years from now, they will be showing that play as they warm the audience up for Super Bowl 102 (sorry, CII).

The result of last years’ Super Bowl eased the pain of this Seahawk fan, admittedly in a perverse way.  The Patriots won a game in overtime after trailing 28-3 in the second half.  The outcome was due less to a collapse by Atlanta than to an overpowering will to win by New England.  If they are that good – and fans in Seattle, Atlanta, and now Jacksonville have to admit that they are – then it really doesn’t matter how big a lead you have on them.

Will Philadelphia be the next victim, or will they find a way to break the spell?  I would like to achieve a clinical detachment as today’s game unfolds, but I am pulled in two opposite directions.  My son-in-law is an Eagles fan.  For that reason, but for that reason alone, I pull for Philadelphia whenever they play anyone but the Hawks.  Incidentally, when the two teams met in December, the Seahawks crushed the Eagles.  But of course, that doesn’t matter now.  Not one bit.

At the same time, how will I feel if Philadelphia does what Seattle could not? Fans in Atlanta and Jacksonville will have to take care of themselves, but how are we Seahawks fans going to feel about our personal football tragedy if Philadelphia is hoisting that trophy later today?  “Of all sad thoughts of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: It might have been.”  I will be glad for my son-in-law, the father of one of my grandchildren, but I know that my joy will be alloyed with grief and regret.

If anyone reading this is a fan of This is Us, one final word – a safety tip.  When the game is over and you are closing up for the night, make sure that your slow cooker is not only turned off, but unplugged.