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Why My Brother Reminds Me of the Seahawks

Sep 18, 2013 -- 10:00am

By: David Levin (@davidlevin71)

Back in the day there may not have been a bigger Seattle Seahawks fan in the state of Florida than my brother Rob.

I never understood his love for the Seahawks and if he is still a fan of the team (which I am not sure), I will not understand now. While I know there is a strong allegiance to our Black and Teal, I am almost sheepishly afraid to find out if he roots for the team from Washington.

My brother’s love for football can be chronicled in several ways:

  • As a fan who supported teams our father loved when we were younger.
  • As a fan of the Seahawks, the Dolphins and now the Jaguars.
  • As someone who was one of the best damn punters I ever saw in Miami growing up, but put too many footballs in palm trees, so he stopping kicking footballs for fear of both my dad and myself killing him.
  • As a college student at FSU who loved his Seminoles but his allegiance now is to the Gators and Noles.
  • Finally, as a father who has two beautiful boys and a daughter who all love football and the Jaguars.

But when I think of Rob and football (by the way, he is my twin), I think back to those days in south Florida, playing football, thinking he was Jim Zorn and kicking footballs like Ray Guy.

Writing about the Jaguars and their destiny with the Seahawks has brought back some great memories of us and kids on the field across from home or in parks or even when we talked about it on the school bus.  Back then, the Dolphins could do no wrong. The Seahawks stunk and well, Don Shula was a god. Now, the roles are reversed: The Seahawks can do no wrong. The Jaguars stink and well, Pete Carroll is a god in Starbucks land.

I never understood the fascination with my brother and kicking a football or how he could so fluidly do it without missing a step. Maybe it was the unconscious process of being good at something that seemed to come naturally. Maybe it was the fact other kids in the neighborhood knew he could kick the hell out of the ball and the kickball and the soccer ball, and well, you get the idea.

And all the while, he wanted to be Jim Zorn or Steve Largent and never once thought he was Bob Griese or David Woodley or Nat Moore.

Yep, that’s my brother.

I once remember (I think we were nine) that Rob told us Seattle would be Houston (Oilers). I know dad thought he was nuts. But they won and when I asked him how did he know they would win, he told be it was because the helmets for the Seahawks were the best ever.

Funny how they still might be.

Rob always seemed to have an innocent “unknown” about him that things he said were so obscure, but they tended to be right.

And he was right about the Seahawks.

So when I watch the Jaguars/Seahawks game this weekend, I will take my childhood memories with me to the couch with my popcorn, computer and beverages, I will channel my “inner Rob” that was so successful for him as a child. This time, I will see it can bring a victory for our Jaguars over his former favorite team.

That might be the best form of brotherly love I could ask for this weekend.

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