Sunday Morning Football at the Firehouse


McCoy’s Firehouse Bar and Grill isn’t exactly a hotspot to watch the Hawks games at. Then again, the Hawks aren’t exactly a hot team. Maybe their lack of victories accounts for McCoy’s lack of rabid football fans. Either way, by the time we showed up shortly before halftime, the Hawks were already down by 30 points, and only two tables were paying attention to the game.

The game: Hawks 6, Giants 44. This is a rough year to be a Seattle sports fan.

The 12th man (and woman): Only one dude in the whole joint sported a Hawks jersey -- number 8, Hasselbeck. Needless to say, the level of enthusiasm was dismal at best, but it’s hard to stay stoked when your team is well on its way to starting the season 1-4. My lunch companion, a Midwesterner, was sporting a Chicago Bears T-shirt. I’m not sure anyone even noticed, let alone gave a shit.

MVP: The waitress. A solitary guy at the bar gave her his best lines but went home empty. His method of running game consisted of questioning the woman’s Hawks spirit. “I don’t really care about football, especially this year,” she told him. Amen.

TVs: One in every corner, which usually would be a good thing. Yesterday, however, was different. The Seahawks might as well have been a Pop Warner team, they were so overmatched.

Beers: Nada for me. Reverbfest was the night before, and I needed a break.

Halftime snacks: Bar grub, about what you’d expect. My lunch companion and I split a barbecue beef sandwich. Nothing to write home about, but sustenance nonetheless.

Memorable moment: Right after Seneca Wallace replaced Matt Hasselbeck midway through the third quarter, the dude in the Hawks jersey mumbled, “I can’t believe it. It’s my birthday, and I have to put up with this shit.” This was only notable because I felt the exact same way. It was my birthday, too.

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