Unlike most of you, I wasn’t around during Richard Sherman’s first four years in Seattle. I didn’t get an up-close look at his meteoric rise as he endeared himself to a city.
But I can tell you this: When I thought of the Seahawks, I didn’t think of Russell Wilson, Marshawn Lynch or Pete Carroll. I thought of Sherman. He wasn’t just the face of the Legion of Boom in my eyes. He was the face of the team.
Nobody embodied the Seahawks brand quite like No. 25. Brash? Check. Colorful? Check. An otherworldly defensive talent?