The case for Seattle's defense

I have—despite my best intentions—been informed that the Seahawks’ participation in the regular-season opener coincided with a significant drop in the television ratings.

I have some fairly strong thoughts about this, but none of them have anything to do with the ratings themselves.

I remain mystified why anyone other than television executives and football commissioners gives a flying fig about them. I will explain more in a bit, but before I mount my soapbox, let’s talk about some actual football:

The Seahawks muzzling of the Patriots in Week 1 wasn’t a total shock.

For one, Seattle held New England scoreless through the first three quarters of the Super Bowl. For two, the Seahawks allowed the fewest points of any team in the league last season.

But Week 1 in the NFL reminded everyone that defensive success doesn’t necessarily carry over from one season to the next. In fact, studies show offense has stronger year-to-year carryover than defense. Two defenses presumed to be heavyweights provided Exhibits A and B of this trend in Week 1.

Houston, 2025 defense: 17.4 points allowed (2), 277.2 yards (1)

The Houston Texans gave up the fewest yards in the league last season and allowed 17.4 points in the regular season, fewer than everyone but the Seahawks.

They gave up 36 points to the Bills, the most Houston had allowed in the regular season since December 2023.

Result: Bills 36, Texans 31.

Denver, 2025 defense: 18.3 points allowed (3), 278.2 yards allowed (2)

The Broncos ranked third in scoring defense last season, their pass rush considered among the league’s best.

Denver’s tackling was atrocious in the season-opener as Kansas City finished with 31 points, and Kenneth Walker finished with 173 yards rushing.

Result: Chiefs 31, Broncos 10.

I make a concerted effort to avoid any discussion of TV ratings

Despite my best intentions, I have become aware that the Seahawks season-opener against New England drew fewer viewers than last year’s Week 1 opener between the Eagles and Cowboys.

I first learned this from a tweet by my economist friend. Then, one of my neighbors here in New York, someone who knows I’m from Seattle, mentioned it to me.

(Deep sigh)

I immediately started applying logic to the situation.

This year, the season opened on a Wednesday instead of a Thursday so the NFL could cram an Australia game into the schedule.

Not only that, but the Cowboys were involved in last year’s regular-season opener, and that tends to skew viewing statistics, too.

And then I reminded myself: I do not care how many other people are watching a particular football game. What I mean by that: I do not care AT ALL how many other people are watching a particular football game.

Furthermore, I do not understand why anyone who is not an executive working in the NFL or for a television network should care, either.

Yet somehow television ratings have become an essential component of sports discourse in this country.

I hate it.

In college football, TV ratings have become equated with importance, relevance. Fans of teams in one conference actually cite ratings as evidence of their superiority over another conference, which I suppose is what you have to do if you’re a member of the SEC and have watched Big Ten teams win the past three national championships.

I’ll pause here to insert a necessary disclaimer: It is possible to argue that broadcasting contracts have become so important to the economics of modern sports that TV ratings—or a lack thereof—ultimately influence the bottom line.

I do not find this argument very convincing, however, for a couple of reasons.

Yet I still see these stories circulating and being debated as if they mean something.

Perhaps this is a result of my age.

I am 51, which makes me a card-carrying member of Generation X. I was raised in a time when popularity triggered a bit of skepticism. An aversion to being seen as a “sellout” was the single most consistent thread in any discussion I had about music while growing up.

I was raised to believe that “bandwagon” was an insult when applied to a fan and that no one who roots for the Yankees, the Cowboys, and the Lakers should ever be taken seriously about anything.

This makes it really hard for me to understand why any actual fan would give a single rip about how many other people are watching their team.

Why should I care about how many other people watched the Seahawks game?

I’m being dead serious when I ask that.

I’m not going to stop watching them because others aren’t. If anything, that would make me more devout in my viewing habits.

Additionally, the Seahawks are not a television program. They’re not in danger of being canceled. The only conceivable repercussion for poor ratings is fewer prime-time games, but that doesn’t mean the games won’t be televised. I already mentioned my age. I don’t mind if the Seahawks play earlier!

I see ratings discourse as an example of a colonized mind. We’ve somehow adopted the concerns of the bosses.

In this case, that would be the broadcast companies that televise the games and the leagues and conferences that charge (increasingly large) sums of money for this privilege.

I understand why ratings are important to them.

I just do not see why I, or any other observer, should care all that much.

With that, I will now dismount my soapbox.

And leave you with a moment of zen from my new favorite TikTok account, TByrd, a man from the South who has befriended Sherman, a groundhog, whom he feeds.

You want to see how Sherman eats an apple? He’ll show you right here: