kaep wilson2

It’s always been this way, or at least it has been as far as any of us can remember now. Super Bowl week is a scavenger hunt of sorts, a search for a story, and a search for a quote. This is not the media’s fault, because they have a job to do, and the scavenging and prodding mentality can overtake a man’s soul when so many like-minded individuals are put into the same bubble for a week, all seeking the same quotes.

It’s the reality of the beast, and all who dare to enter the vacuum of Super Bowl week are subjected to its venomous ways. But the other reality which isn’t acknowledged nearly enough is that outside of those few sporadic quotes and obviously the game itself, there really isn’t that much actual news during Super Bowl week. So those quotes — those oozing, treasure quotes — become the news, because they’re placed under the largest magnifying glass the league has to offer. That’s true even if you’re a player who isn’t involved in the game, and even if you’re there just to sling some product like so many other Z-list celebrities.

So step on up, Colin Kaepernick. Whatcha got?

Kaepernick is in town to sell you something (some energy drink made with green tea and coffee, which sounds about as delicious as chewing an egg shell). As he bounced around radio row yesterday while subjecting himself to various body odors, the New York Post caught up with the 49ers quarterback who came oh so close to being a starter this Sunday.

Inevitably, the conversation turned to Richard Sherman, and his post-game NFC Championship rant after deflecting Kaepernick’s pass intended for Michael Crabtree, the play that sealed Seattle’s championship berth. Kaepernick had already willingly plunged into the depths of the Super Bowl aquarium, and he surely knew that anything he said can and would be used against him for a very long time by Sherman. Maybe worse, the abuse he regularly receives from Seahawks fans would multiply ten-fold.

He cared so very little, because the Super Bowl beast must be fed. Mmmm quotes, nom nom.

Kaepernick said many things that will prompt many obscenities from Seahawks fans. He called Sherman’s post-game comments in his interview with Erin Andrews “ridiculous”, and said that such a rant reflected insecurities in the cornerback because if you’re that damn good, you don’t need to tell people.

Those are the two comments that drew the most focus yesterday, which surprises no one because for nearly two weeks now that post-game rant has percolated as a still polarizing topic. But as we prepare for a Super Bowl that could have very easily been 49ers-Broncos instead of Seahawks-Broncos, here’s the Kaep comment that caught my eye…

“I don’t care who’s out there. I had Crabtree one-on-one with half of the field to himself, and I’m going to take that every single time. He made a good play on that ball, but if I throw it a foot farther, it’s a touchdown and now you’re the goat, Richard Sherman.

“It’s a game of inches. The inches were in [Sherman’s] favor in that case, but this game will humble you very quickly.”

He’s right. He’s absolutely right.

The throw Kaepernick made wasn’t horrible, but it was just OK. At best, it was a good throw, and one that many cornerbacks wouldn’t be able to touch, and they certainly wouldn’t be able to deflect it towards a teammate. But a better throw — indeed, a perfect throw, and not merely a good throw — would have been a few inches further, hitting Crabtree in the back corner of the end zone for the game-winning touchdown.

The problem immediately and the reason why the 49ers aren’t playing this weekend is that to beat Sherman, a perfect throw is required. Kaepernick couldn’t execute, and instead he turned the ball over for the third straight time to end the game and his season.

But while he fed the ravished quote machine yesterday and gave Seattle fans something to froth about, Kaepernick also reminded us of another important reality as we prepare for what should be an intensely close game. Often only inches separate champions from the rest at crucial times, and the randomness in between — the bouncing ball that’s fumbled, or the deflected ball that still finds its way to a receiver somehow — can go a long way towards determining a winner in a game between two elite teams.

That’s coming Sunday.

More notes, reading, stray thoughts, and other such randomness

Marshawn Lynch is the best

A man of mystery and intrigue (and of extreme discomfort around a group of cameras), Marshawn Lynch says so very few words. But when he says words, they’re usually the best words. A funny thing happened yesterday during the Seahawks’ final media session of the week: the ice between Lynch and the media thawed ever so slightly.

Maybe Lynch took a baby step forward with his clear camera phobia, or maybe his level of caring was much lower because of the knowledge that he won’t have to meet with the media again until at least Sunday. Whatever it was, we were granted this glorious gift:

Cable is finishing his third season as the Seahawks’ offensive line coach. Although he’s done a mighty fine job in that role, in his former professional life as the head coach of the Oakland Raiders he quite literally ruled with an iron fist. In 2009 Cable was accused of punching an assistant coach in the face hard enough to break a bone. He denied the accusation, instead claiming that the coach was injured when Cable flipped him out of a chair, which made it…better?

Anywho, this isn’t about Cable. This is about Lynch and why he’s the greatest, and why I want a pet Marshawn Lynch of my very own. No, you’re weird.

Speaking of which…

Lynch has a pet, a dog named Ice. When Sports Illustrated’s Extra Mustard had something that resembled a conversation with Lynch, what Ice likes to do with his time was discussed briefly.

It seems Ice leads a simple life:

He’s out doing his doggie dog thing, living in his doggie dog world. You feel me?

Jokes aside, one question later Lynch gave his longest response of the week when asked about what he’ll be doing Monday when his offseason starts. If this was a week in which we tried to unlock the great mystery of Marshawn Lynch and what makes this man tick aside from smashing dudes on Sundays, this is the answer…

I like to go home and get involved in my community. ASAP. So that means the day after I am done, me and my cousin Josh will hit the streets. We’ll probably be running into someone’s elementary, junior high or high school, or going to somebody’s youth development center so we can find ways to get ours up and running to make sure that ours is running smoothly. With us being the president and vice-president, we have some obligations to some people to keep this thing going and up until this point I feel we’ve been doing pretty good with our foundation. I mean, we’ve seen a lot of success from it. We have guys who came through our foundation who actually played in the league and some guys in college who hit the business world. We have guys all over that are making a change for the better and sometimes that’s hard to see in our area. Especially from our neighborhoods.

Kermit has always been such a badass

Eventually Richard Sherman rant parodies will get old and horrible, and the Internet will beat them into a bloody mess. Thankfully, that day hasn’t quite arrived yet.

Pack it in guys, we don’t need to play the game anymore

That’s because Eli, an ape at the Hogle Zoo in Salt Lake City, has predicted the winner, and he’s never wrong.

Eli the ape ran into an enclosure Thursday morning and swiftly knocked down a papier-mache helmet bearing the Seahawks logo, signaling his pick, said Erica Hansen of Hogle Zoo in Salt Lake City.

“He made his pick without any hesitation,” Hansen said.

That could mean bad news for Broncos fans. The 13-year-old primate hasn’t been wrong since 2006.

Rod Streater is the man, he’s the man, he’s the mannnnn

I’m not at all ashamed to admit that throughout the playoffs, Aloe Blacc’s song has grown on me, but that’s mostly because I picture my life as a constant music video in slow motion. When you do that, sitting on public transit and staring into the abyss during the early hours becomes a lot more tolerable, because you’re the man, you’re the man, you’re the mannnnn (no, you’re weird).

As Rod Streater showed us in this fine parody, a neighborly visit gets much better too.