…is the one who steals the 12th Man’s sandwich.
Hank is the 13th Man. He wears the pirate jersey of black and white. He is older and wiser than the 12th Man. He will be sailing forth early so consider this a Seattle-area warning for Super Bowl Sunday.
This is his play: As the 11 Men on the field stand around (listening to the sweet ka-chunk of gold dropping into bank accounts), and the famous 12th Man (YELLING!) vacates his stuffy prefrontal cortex for the more homey basal ganglia (YELLING!) and tucks in to critical beer-pork-beef-cheezy-chip supplies (YELLING!), Hank cuts to the right, feints a left, and goes straight for The Sandwich.
And SCOOOOORE! Instant replay cannot catch the speed with which both Hank and sandwich are gone. Quarterbacks and pythons the world over feel shame.
OK. Pythons the world over feel shame.
The 12th Man and his basal ganglia are none the wiser. (YELLING!) Mmm…nachos. Nachos good. (YELLING!) Mmm…beer. Beer good. (YELLING!)
You can’t get a suit of armour and a rubber chicken just like that. You have to plan ahead.