Pete Carroll
It was a typical evening with the boys, drinking beer and talking football at The Slip — Washington’s smallest bar — with our our friend, Kjos, behind the counter.
“Jeremy Lane — ”
“What about Jeremy Lane,” says the eavesdropper behind us, gone faster than I can swing my head around and address him.
“Dude,” Kjos excitingly says with his voice down, “that was Pete Carroll.”
“Bullshit,” we say, unable to see around the corner and into one of the few booths.
We continue talking about the game and whatever else 22-year old's talk about, eating a peanut-butter & jelly bacon cheeseburger and hoping we can confirm our Pete Carroll sighting without being weird about it.
As stealth as he was getting to his booth, he was as subtle approaching our table.
“What do you want to know about the game on Thursday?” he says.
If we were shocked by his presence, we didn’t show it. He was as normal as anyone in that bar at that moment, just another football fan with a bit more insight than the casual observer. This was days from one of the biggest regular season games in years, a clash with our division rival and the hated San Francisco 49ers at their peak.
We chatted for five minutes, and Pete clarified Jeremy Lane’s status for the game while adding that the well-known reporter was “a prick.” Pete was just one of the guys.
Pete left the bar with his wife, having opted for salmon rather than the peanut-butter and jelly bacon cheeseburger apparently. The shock and joy of that moment finally set in at our table.
Pete Carroll, an icon in Seattle and a personal hero of mine, stopped by our table, unprompted, to share stories and conversation. It was an unbelievable act of humility and authenticity. Needless to say, it made our day and probably year.
…
Read enough articles about Pete Carroll and the story above doesn’t sound so out of left field. You get a sense that everyone he crosses paths with has some story — many whacky — about their interaction. In a league of tough guys, Pete is a unicorn.
That’s what makes today a sad day. You’d hardly know it from his presser. He ecstatically announced, in Pete Carroll fashion, how “jacked” he is for whatever is next — without any idea of what that may be. For the first time in 14 years, it won’t be as head coach of the Seattle Seahawks.
We know the next head coach won’t be chewing through packs of gum like a maniac, celebrating every good play as if it’s his own child making them in a youth sports league, or be #goals for everyone who aspires to have Pete’s childlike energy, whit, charm, and quarterback arm, at the ripe age of 72.
The Seahawks may have a better record or coach next year, but we won’t have someone who cares as much about his players, their mental wellbeing, their happiness, their ability to maximize their personal talent and uniqueness, than this old ball coach.
For all the negativity about Pete’s brand of football, he is an innovator — he changed the way coaches connect with players. He proved you don’t need to be an ass to get your running back to run hard. You can simply empower players… to be themselves. His work with sports psychologist Michael Gervais centered around helping players be authentic and self-aware with the goal of playing free and having fun.
Pete’s obsession with competition was my gateway to drinking the Pete Kool-Aid. His message was not about winning this game or that division, but of Winning Forever — which meant competing and doing your best, in everything you do. The wins were simply the result of competing at every level. It’s a message I consider at my job, doing dishes, or changing our laundry. Do your best.
Win Forever was one of my favorite books I read in college. He also released a number of programs aimed at helping regular folk be there best. Simply, Pete is the best hype man there has ever been or will be.
…
When I heard the news Pete would no longer be the coach, my heart sank. Not because I don’t think the Seahawks could benefit from a coach pushing the team in a new direction, but because I will miss the person Pete Carroll. It’s a full-circle moment for me. In a league where coaches and players are inter-changeable, traded, cut, benched, and scrutinized by fans for not living up to expectations, my relationship with Pete is bigger than X’s and O’s. It’s one of gratitude and empathy for his positivity and presence for the last 14 years.
Thanks Pete. We’ll miss you. We love you.
Paul
