Sorry, Marshawn

I was at Logan Airport one Sunday not too long ago. The Seahawks were playing that afternoon and even though I wouldn't be able to watch the game, I was wearing my Seahawks jersey. It had a 24 on the front and the name of Lynch on the back.

As I was walking down the corridor, an excited young woman approached me and asked if I was a fan of Marshawn. Without thinking, I replied, "Not really."

She went on to explain that she was Marshawn's cousin.

Oh.

"It's not that I'm not a fan," I hurried to explain. "It's just that they don't make jerseys for the Special Teams guys and this was the only jersey I could get my hands on," I said, making things worse. "I mean, who's ever heard of a jersey for the Long Snapper?"

I checked my watch and hoped the public address system would announce that I was urgently needed to board my flight. Even though she shook my hand as we wished each other a safe journey, I feel I owe her cousin an apology.

Sorry, Marshawn. I've just ordered a #49 jersey so that will never happen again.