By ROBERT L. JAMIESON Jr.
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER COLUMNIST

You heard it yelled here loudest, Seattle.

Seahawks fans -- the mythical "12th Man" -- are the oft-heard, off-the-field force to be reckoned with in this magical football season.

They are the unsung miracle workers who put "advantage" in home-field advantage, creating ear-splitting misery for any opponent strutting into town like a conquest-bent colossus.

The Washington Redskins are about to hear firsthand what others know: Seattle fans have the vocal power to help the home team reach the Promised Land.

Seahawks cornerback Andre Dyson, who played for the ans of Tennessee last season, is a recent convert.

"At Tennessee, we had a great crowd ... and they were loud," Dyson says. "Here, it's a whole new level."

The boisterousness of present is possible as a result of the raucousness from the past.

In the beginning, there was the Kingdome, and it was good -- noisily so.

The old Seahawks home, an aging concrete monster, had a rep, real street cred with players around the league.

Fan noise reached levels that would exceed a speeding subway. At times the dizzying decibels flirted with the deafening roar of a Rolling Stones concert.

"Doom in the Dome" became the rallying cry at a stadium once dubbed the toughest place to play in football, and it was the perfect training ground for how to be a good fan.

But Qwest Field, outdoors and exposed, couldn't possibly live up to all of that. Surely, sound waves would whimper out to Puget Sound.

Seahawks owner Paul Allen kept the faith, believing the new digs could be criminally loud.

Allen vowed the football stadium would have features to enhance cacophony. He got smart people to do acoustic modeling of sound reverberations in the place. The brain trust liked what it heard.

And so, Qwest Field stood poised to become one giant, acoustically amplifying megaphone.

All that remained for aural chaos was, well, more than one thing -- try more than 67,000 fans unified in a primal yell.

Qwest needs people like Patti Hammond, who puts on her Seahawks-blue wig to transform into Mama Blue.

It needs the basso profundo of Lorin "Big Lo" Sandretzky, the 6-foot-8, 430-pound Seattle super fan who can't be missed in his end zone seat.

It needs a conductor to whip the human instruments into an orchestra of mass frenzy with purpose.

That is where Seahawks linebacker Lofa Tatupu helps.

"You raise a finger," Tatupu says, "and they go crazy."

Crazy in a good way -- a controlled delirium that makes grown men and women erupt in kindergarten-ish glee when the Seahawks score or make a big defensive stop.

The madness causes a maelstrom of boos to rain down on refs who make bad calls.

The fever ignites a mass civic love fest, prompting strangers in the stands to clutch, grab and high-five other strangers when the home team does its Houdini best by dodging bullet after bullet, as the Seahawks did in winning a wild affair against the New York Giants this season.

"Crazy" bonds fans to players in a mutual mission: to get to Detroit, to the Super Bowl. The Seahawks do their part, with Shaun running, Matt throwing and Joe catching. The 12th Man does its part, under carpeted skies or wintry sun, making lusty roars that rumble in Rainier Valley and rattle all the way to Bot .

If the clamor causes the other team to jump offsides -- the Giants did so 11 times -- so be it. Just consider it a warm Seahawks welcome, courtesy of the good fans of latte land.

Look, up in the sky! It's not a bird! Nor a plane!

It's a supersized No.12 blue flag bristling atop the Space Needle for all of Seattle to see. The flag is a nod to you, the uberfans in the stands, the people power that inspires the Seahawks to virtuoso performances.

Flying the colors recognizes your passion, the sacrifice of your lungs and larynxes.

What the home crowd has done borders on miraculous. The 12th Man has raised the roof of a stadium that doesn't even have one.

"Doom in the Dome" has donned flannel and Gore-Tex and gone outdoors. Only one thing can top such a feat -- the Seahawks going on to the Super Bowl, and bringing home the big prize.

If this happens, a whole metro -- screaming and hollering and whooping with the boys in blue -- will do something never seen among pigskin lovers in these mossy parts.

Lose its voice in the giddy madness.


RAISING THE FLAG

Four men who have raised the 12th Man flag before a Seahawks home game describe the experience:
CORTEZ KENNEDY

He never got to play in the Seahawks' new stadium, but Cortez Kennedy became a player in the team's new digs when he raised the 12th Man flag prior to one of the first regular-season games in 2003.

"It was an unbelievable experience," said Kennedy, an eight-time Pro Bowl defensive tackle during his 11-year career.

One not unlike being a Roman emperor, as the man they call Tez stood above the cheering masses in a Coliseum-like atmosphere.

"It was a nervous feeling, for a minute, because all eyes are on you," he said. "But you get excited when the fans get into it. That's what it's all about. It is the fans that make the Seahawks go."

JOE NASH

Joe Nash, a lunch-pail-and-a-hard-hat defensive tackle during the Seahawks' Glory Years, played in the Kingdome when the 12th Man era was in its infancy and the crowds began generating noise that equaled a jet engine or a rock concert.

He got his first earful of Qwest Field this season, when Nash raised the 12th Man flag prior to the Seahawks game against the Atlanta Falcons.

"I never thought an outdoor stadium could be that loud," Nash said.

JACK PATERA

The Seahawks' first coach, Jack Patera, raised the 12th Man flag on Christmas Eve before the Colts' game.

Thrilled, Patera called it an honor to be recognized and remembered. The ceremony was particularly special because many family members were there. Patera later celebrated the holidays at his daughter's home.

Patera said he was asked to pump his fists or hold a hand to his ear to encourage the crowd to cheer, but they were loud enough without any prodding.

"I'm not that kind of guy," said Patera, who lives in Cle Elum. "I'm not a real whoop-de-doer."

LORENZO ROMAR

University of Washington men's basketball coach Lorenzo Romar took his turn raising the 12th Man flag on Nov. 27. He was met with a thunderous roar from the sold-out crowd.

"It surprised me. I enjoyed it, just to be in that position in the first place. When you get up there overlooking the entire stadium and see how fired up and excited people are, it's not something you can prepare for."