2012's Best: The interception that never was

Via Examiner

By Burl Rolett

The interception that altered NFL history, solved a lockout and ultimately never existed. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

2012 was a rough year for The Shield.

A botched bounty investigation wrecked Roger Goodell’s remaining credibility among the players; the Jets lost their iconic fan to the kind of hostile stadium atmosphere that's made NFL games R-rated events; and safety concerns continued to threaten football’s long-term viability. 

But the league's most memorable story came all the way back in week three, when Packers safety M.D. Jennings picked off a desperation heave by the Seahawks' Russell Wilson. 

With eight seconds remaining in the game and the Seahawks trailing 12-7, Wilson took the snap and rolled left. He set his feet and unleashed a 40-yard Hail Mary as time expired. Receiver Golden Tate pushed off of cornerback Sam Shields in the back of the end zone, managing to get a hand on the pass just after Jennings did. Tate wrapped his arms around the ball as the two went to the ground and the much-maligned replacement refs rushed in to make the final call of their NFL careers. 

“Touchdown,” signaled the side judge. The back judge at the same time signaled for a timeout, though the clock showed triple zeros. Packers cornerback Jarrett Bush, the only one to get the call right, signaled interception and touchback. 

The ruling on the field was a touchdown by the NFL’s simultaneous catch rule, a situation that ESPN's broadcasters claimed was not reviewable. They would have been correct if the catch occurred in the field of play. In the end zone, it was a different story. Yet the replacement refs were just as clueless, and the initial ruling was upheld. Seahawks win. 

The sports world had its next Don Denkinger moment. The judges from June's controversial Manny Pacquiao-Timothy Bradley fight, no longer the year's least competent officials, could relax. 

This call was far worse. 

The Cardinals could have gotten three more outs to clinch the 1985 World Series in spite of Denkinger’s miss, and boxers understand the inherent risk in letting someone else decide their fight.

The Packers, on the other hand, were just pure out of luck. 

As I sat basking in the chaos of that Monday night, I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. Goodell had seemingly got what he deserved after weeks of fighting with the real referees, and Green Bay's misfortune catapulted my Chicago Bears into first place.



I called a Packers fan to simultaneously brag and apologize. The game cost him half a bag of sunflower seeds and his girlfriend, who was currently vacuuming seeds and shells off of her dormitory floor.

Eventually I became a little more empathetic. First for my friend, who had some serious damage control to do. Then for the gamblers who bought the then-tantalizing three-point spread the Packers gave the Seahawks. And finally, for the Packers. This game would undoubtedly have playoff implications. 

The loss dropped Green Bay to 1-2, with a tough road ahead of them. In a 16-game season, no team can afford to take a loss when they've earned a win; imagine watching your baseball team drop 10 straight thanks to two weeks of poor officiating. 

Sure enough, that early-season mistake left them a half-game behind the 49ers and the NFC's second seed by season's end. Now, rather than hosting San Francisco on a week's rest, they'll head to Candlestick Park and the 49ers' 6-1-1 home record. 

The Seahawks, meanwhile, are a different story. They barreled into the playoffs and have now won eight straight, relying on that old "three yards and a cloud of dust" style we'd been told was all but obsolete in this pass-happy league. It's part of a certain bravado that surrounds them, an arrogance that you can't help but hate to love. 

Maybe it's because they're tucked away in the Pacific Northwest, a region often ignored and far removed from the rest of the sporting world. Maybe it's because Russell Wilson is one of the more unlikely rookie quarterbacks to have made it this far. Maybe it's because head coach Pete Carroll is perpetually wearing the frat-boy smirk of a man dancing one step ahead of trouble. Whatever it is, the Seahawks have that magnetic swagger, the kind that draws people in even as they shake their heads in disgust. 

I can’t be sure whether Seattle carried that swagger into week three, but they certainly left with it. Asked postgame if he saw Tate’s “catch,” Wilson smiled, shrugged and chuckled to himself. 

“It was simultaneous, so tie goes to the runner, right?” 

After a two-season minor league baseball career, Wilson knows better. The phrase is a myth. The tie doesn't go to the runner, it goes to the umpire, the highly-trained arbiter entrusted with determining the game's crucial moments. That Monday night in week three, the umpire was so wrong it brought two warring factions back to the table. The NFL and referees resolved their dispute, the scabs returned to their high school fields and arena leagues, and normalcy returned. Both teams made the playoffs, and all seemed fixed. 

But unless the Packers take the scenic route to the Super Bowl, there will always be a question of what might have been. Or more accurately, what should have been. It’s a tiny asterisk amended to this NFL football season, and a classic sports story that will live on long after Super Bowl XLVIII.

Burl Rolett is a contributor for Began in '96. He writes regularly about the Chicago Bears for Grabowskis in Exile.