Don't Cry for Russ

    That interception with 20 seconds remaining that cost the Seattle Seahawks the Super Bowl Sunday night brings that familiar maxim clearly into focus, doesn’t it?
    If you saw it happen, you were probably stunned.
    If you didn’t, you’ve certainly heard about it by now.
    On second and goal from the New England one-yard-line, Seahawks quarterback Russell Wilson, Collegiate class of 2007, threw across the middle toward receiver Ricardo Lockette, who was running a slant route from right to left.
    At the very last second, Malcolm Butler, an obscure, undrafted rookie out of West Alabama, got the angle on Lockette and picked off Wilson’s pass to preserve the Patriots’ 28-24 victory and make him (Butler) an instant celebrity.
    The Seahawks had the championship well within their grasp.
    Conventional wisdom says they should have played it safe, given Marshawn Lynch the football, and let the taciturn, enigmatic, and utterly powerful running back do his “Beast Mode” thing.
    They didn’t, though, and from the moment the ball settled into Butler’s grasp, critics and armchair quarterbacks have had a field day, expressing amazement, placing blame, and deeming the Hawks’ decision “the worst call ever.”
    Seattle coach Pete Carroll took the rap as a good leader should.
    Wilson and most of his teammates rallied to his defense.
    In post-game interviews, the ubiquitous trash-talkers and posturers among the Seattle contingent were uncharacteristically reserved.
    Wilson, true to form, was gracious in defeat, just as he has always been in victory.
    Yeah, life didn’t go the way they wanted it.
    Now, we’ll find out who they really are.
    Disappointing as the outcome was, don’t shed a tear for Russell Wilson.
    My guess is that he’s not crying for himself.
    Is he disappointed? Sure. He’s supremely confident and an eye-of-the-tiger competitor, you know.
    Is he discouraged? I doubt it. He’s just not wired that way.
    Does he wish he could rewind the moment? Wouldn’t life be great if we could?
    Will this setback fuel future success? Are you kidding? Absolutely.
    Russell is a no-excuse guy, a sportsman to the core, and he’ll reveal his character as much in the throes of defeat and criticism as he has after any of his moments of prodigious success.
    His life has unfolded on the big stage, and the stage doesn’t get much bigger than the Super Bowl.
    But we need to remember – and, yeah, I know the National Football League is big business and gazillions of dollars are involved – that the Super Bowl is still a game.
    Athletes, regardless of the level or sport, are competitors, but they’re also role models whose every action plays out for the public to see.
    The test of a man (or woman) isn’t what happens but how he (or she) deals with the situation, win or lose.
    To take that reasoning even further, athletic competition – as intense as it has become and as important as we make it – is really preparation for the real competition of life.
    That might sound cliché, but it’s true.
    If Russell Wilson’s (or the Seahawks’) worst moment is a Super Bowl loss that turns on one dramatic play, if their toughest obstacle is withering criticism, and if their greatest challenge is picking themselves off the turf after they’ve been smacked unceremoniously to it, they will lead charmed lives.
    We don’t truly grow without facing adversity, and a loss in an athletic event is child’s play, to be quite honest with you, considering the adversity they could face when life gets real.
    We don’t achieve greatness without taking risks and failing.
    We don’t attain humility unless we experience moments that bring us to our knees.
    The last I checked, the sun came up this morning.
    True, a thick layer of nimbus clouds obscured it from sight, and rain has fallen much of the day, occasionally in torrents.
    That’s all right, though.
    The sky will be bright again soon enough.
            -- Weldon Bradshaw