At 5’11”, Russell Wilson was an unlikely NFL quarterback. He was the 75th overall pick in the draft, set to play backup to Matt Flynn, the Seahawks’ newly acquired understudy of Packers QB Aaron Rodgers.
“You’re too short,” they said.
“You’re too inexperienced.”
“You’ll never be able to pull off a mustard cable-knit sweater.”
In his rookie season, Wilson proved all of them wrong, showing tremendous poise and leadership under pressure. Wilson would later credit God and his own hard work for all his first season successes, though this would later prove to be evidence of his misplaced faith.
Russell steps outside of his seaplane, just outside a J.Crew, his duffel bag chockablock full of sweaters he has promised to Macklemore. After waiting around for half an hour, Wilson sees Macklemore approaching in the distance, stopped every five or so feet to sign autographs for moms in Lululemon yoga pants. Though he knows in his heart that he should get rid of the sweaters, Wilson scrambles and hops back into the seaplane before his white rapper friend even makes it past the Microsoft Store.
In an extraordinary moment of self-sacrifice, Russell Wilson blocks running back Marshawn Lynch from making a huge fashion faux pas by wearing the world’s most embarrassing sweater.
“You don’t make plays for you, you make them for the team,” Wilson said, as his sweater became sentient.
Each morning, Wilson wakes up and tweets about God before his sweater takes him to the nearest Starbucks. Wilson orders a grande skinny vanilla latte, and when the barista asks him what his name is, Wilson answers, “#blessed.”
Finding Wilson’s wife Ashton and her loving nature and model-good looks a threat to the young quarterback’s Super Bowl potential, Russell Wilson’s cable-knit reveals its final form (taupe) and suddenly obeys the First Law of Robotics.
Wilson looks on, powerless, his face frozen, his mental state focused on the games to come, the games to win.