The Seahawks were everywhere.

People passed us on the street decked out in cloudy navy blue and lime green. That ubiquitous styl­ized bird’s head turned up everywhere, from the back windows of station wagons to the hairy chests of thir­tysomethings in swimming trunks. Flashing store signs, after informing passing cars about clearance sales and zero-percent financing, trumpeted “Go Seahawks!”, as did more than one public transit vehicle.

And it was just killing a friend of mine, even more than the cold was killing me.

The Kennewick Polar Plunge. The premise is sim­ple yet utterly te...