Best Place to Avoid the 12th Man? Georgetown.

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The Game: Eagles 26; Seahawks 7

The Vantage Point: Georgetown, various seats

The 12th Man? Nowhere

TVs? None.

Beer: Both Smarty Pants and Jules Maes are proud of the brewery across the street. Give me a Manny's, a Roger's, a 9 LB Hammer, or a Chopper and I'm good to go.

This article was supposed to be about the $10 all-you-can-eat breakfast at Showbox SoDo, the pre-game Bloody Marys, the camaraderie of the 12th Man. I'm not the 12th Man, but I am naive. So, at 10 a.m. yesterday morning I tried to find a parking spot near the Showbox. What a joke.

I've never seen a football game inside Qwest Field. And until yesterday, I'd never seen the professional tailgaters under the viaduct cozied up between tents and sleeping bags. I'd never tried to find a parking spot three hours before a game. (Although I once got a free parking spot for a Mariners game that was so good, and tickets that were so bad, I could see my truck from my seat in right field. True story.) I couldn't bring myself to spend $50 on a parking spot to score $10 eggs and scones. So, my patient companion and I decided to take our pre-game spirits down the street to Georgetown. It was amazing.

Just minutes down the road, the city was abuzz with brats, bud light, and all shades of blue. But, at 10:45 a.m. in Georgetown, the 12th Man was nowhere to be found. We started at Smarty Pants, where I soaked up Saturday night with The Trouble Maker Pile Up, a delicious mess of chicken, bacon, cheese, and eggs with a serving of hashbrowns without a TV in sight. No sign of the game, but they were playing James Brown. The 9 Pound Hammer was wasn't open. Neither was Stellar. We were beginning to think that we wouldn't be watching the game in Georgetown.

Next door at Fantagraphics, we thumbed though some half-priced damaged goods and asked about a place in the neighborhood to watch the game. Nothing. But, was there a TV at Jules Maes? No, but they were spinning Tom Petty and pouring four of the neighborhood's eponymous brews. My lady and I hunkered down at a table by the window; out of the rain, and with no idea what the Eagles were up to on their first drive.

Having given it out best in two neighborhoods, we resigned ourselves to the comfort of our Camry just in time to hear good guys go 90 yards on their first drive to set themselves up for what would be just another disappointing loss. That is, for anyone paying the game any attention. Which, as we discovered, did not include Georgetown.

 
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