Nearly 14 years have passed, but I remember the moment with vivid clarity, as if it … just happened.
The actual sequence remains a blur.
In fairness, from my sideline perch near the opposite end zone, I didn’t get a very good real-time look at the fraudulent “touchdown” catch that would become known as the Fail Mary. All I knew was the NFL’s absurd officiating lockout had reached an inflection point.
What I didn’t know was that things were about to get really, really weird.
Back in September of 2012, as the Seattle Seahawks and their fans were celebrating an unfathomable 14-12 victory, I was locking eyes with Aaron Rodgers, who’d streamed onto the field from the other sideline. The Green Bay Packers’ quarterback was livid. I’d known him for nearly a decade, and while I wasn’t clear on the precise source of the reigning MVP’s anger, I could tell something shocking and controversial had occurred.
Instinctively, as we converged near the middle of the field, I asked him the only logical question.
What the f— just happened?
As fate would have it, I said these words straight into a “Monday Night Football” camera that was feeding a live broadcast to millions of homes.
I soon learned, to my surprise, that you could say the F-word on network TV without any blowback — if you happened to speak for a football-watching nation.
That ignominious moment proved to be the tipping point in one of the least savory NFL episodes of the 21st century, the lockout of officials that would end two days later — after the glorified Foot Locker employees posing as replacements, once and for all, revealed themselves as incompetent and got the boot.
Now, as we stand at the precipice of a sequel, those memories have come flooding back.
It was a wild time, especially for a certain Yahoo! Sports columnist who — arms spread wide in indignation, reporter’s notebook in one hand, ill-fitting leather jacket flapping in the Puget Sound-salted breeze — unwittingly became part of the madness.
From Rodgers embedding me into his soon-to-be-omnipresent account of the play in his postgame press conference (“I saw Mike Silver on the field”), to the barrage of memes that ensued on social media, to the “South Park” episode that seemingly spoofed the affair, to the T-shirts being peddled, I experienced an “Everything Everywhere All at Once” reality a decade before the movie came out.
A certain Yahoo! Sports columnist earned a moment in the spotlight after a Monday night game ended in controversy. (ESPN)
I bring up the Fail Mary now, of course, because the NFL seems poised to repeat the same, stupid strategy that led to the fiasco back in 2012. As it squabbles with the NFL Referees Association over money and other employment issues (but mostly money), the league is making plans to begin hiring and training replacement officials as early as Friday.
This time, the NFL’s strategy for a potential lockout includes using technology to clean up the replacement refs’ potential messes, via centralized decision-making from the league’s Manhattan offices. That’s supposed to give fans peace of mind, but it won’t stop the poseurs from getting pushed around by opportunistic players and coaches, among other potential nightmares.
You know who might not have as much peace of mind in such a scenario? Gamblers. Sports wagering is now legal in most states — and embedded into the league’s culture, with official sportsbook partners and the widespread acceptance of a previously taboo practice.
If officials aren’t up to the task in 2026, the ramifications will be a lot more loaded than they were at the time of the Fail Mary.
For the league, it was a public relations disaster, a cautionary tale that has become part of the sport’s lore, like the Heidi Game or the Tuck Rule or the deflated-ball scandal.
Granted, some of you were too young to experience the farce. Some were aware of it but have fuzzy memories. Still others have tried to forget.
I am here for you, because it took over my reality for a short, amusing stretch, and I still have some “WTF” business cards (with my image as the T) to commemorate it.
What I recall most: the arrogance at the heart of the league’s hardline strategy, and the way players and coaches tried to exploit the situation. Because as much of an epic fail as the Fail Mary was — a nationally televised clash of playoff-bound teams that ended with what should have been a game-clinching interception being ruled a winning touchdown via “simultaneous possession” — it was merely the culmination of a three-week debacle.
The prior lowlights included an inability to count (then-San Francisco 49ers coach Jim Harbaugh was awarded four timeouts and two extra challenges in the final minutes of a defeat to the Minnesota Vikings), an ardently gesturing player (Arizona Cardinals linebacker Sam Acho) goading an official into an intentional-grounding call and a game-winning Justin Tucker field goal on “Sunday Night Football” that may or may not have actually sailed through the uprights.
Yeah, it was bad.
Sensing hesitance as well as incompetence, coaches and players alike tried to sway the flailing fill-ins at every turn. Once it became clear that the replacements lacked command of the situation, such responses were inevitable.
“The NFL is all about intimidation,” one former player told me at the time. “We prey on the weak — and these (replacement officials) are the weak.”
It all seemed shady and shaky and shoddy, a horrible look for a league built on projecting a premium product, in all its high-def splendor. Most fans neither understood what the two sides were fighting about (again: mostly money) nor cared who was in the right. They just wanted it to end.
In that sense, the Fail Mary was a godsend. Two days later, with the owners now under immense public pressure, they softened their stance, and the two sides predictably settled. The officials were welcomed back by grateful fans like long-lost lovers.
Well, at least for a couple of hours.
The following Sunday at Lambeau Field, I was standing on the Packers’ sideline when the newly reinstated officials emerged from the tunnel during pregame warmups. I’ll never forget the warm, loud ovation they received, and the bemused looks on their faces as they half-waved to the crowd.
I also recall that, after dubiously ruling that Saints kick returner Darren Sproles had been down by contact — negating an apparent Packers fumble recovery in New Orleans territory with seven minutes remaining — the honeymoon ended with a thud.
Within seconds, a chant broke out: “Refs Still Suck.”
The fans went home happy after an apparent makeup call wiped out a Saints go-ahead field goal, and the Packers avoided a 1-3 start by escaping with a 28-27 victory.
I’d decided to cover Packers-Saints weeks before the lockout ended, and that proved to be a stroke of good fortune. I’ve long been teased by friends and family members for my seeming ability to pick the right game or spot and end up where the action is — my 2025 draft experience in Jacksonville being one of the more recent examples.
That’s never been more applicable than in the case of the Fail Mary.
For dumb reasons I won’t bore you with, I didn’t cover a Week 3 Sunday game that year, a rarity during my time (2007-13) at Yahoo! Sports. The only reason I’d flown up to Seattle for the Monday night clash was because I’d been invited to a postgame dinner with star Seahawks running back Marshawn Lynch, who rarely did media interviews but typically (perhaps because he’s got a soft spot for fellow weirdos) made exceptions for me.
Following the chaotic ending Lynch, as was his custom, bolted almost immediately from the stadium. He was already seated in a private room at the Metropolitan Grill in downtown Seattle when I arrived. Like many of the people at the table — a group that included Marcus Peters, then a University of Washington cornerback, and later a three-time Pro Bowl selection — Lynch hadn’t seen a clear replay of then-rookie Russell Wilson’s desperation pass, which ended up in Packers safety M.D. Jennings’ hands. Seattle receiver Golden Tate, after pushing off on the Packers’ Sam Shields (no flag was thrown, naturally), had made what seemed like a belated reach and put a single arm on the ball as Jennings fell to the ground.
A replacement official, unfathomably ruling it simultaneous possession, signaled touchdown. Then a non-replacement replay official — who normally held a managerial role and wasn’t in the union — somehow upheld it.
Throughout our long meal, Lynch behaved as though he had a vague idea that a call had gone the Seahawks’ way, but hey, that happens in football. Then, around the time the clock struck midnight, things turned surreal.
“We should watch the play,” someone at the table suggested. Soon the waiter arrived, flicked a button on a remote control, and what had appeared to be a fancy mirror on the wall behind Lynch slid down and morphed into an enormous screen. Trippy.
As we viewed the replay, Lynch’s eyes got big and his mouth dropped.
“Oh s—,” he exclaimed. “We lost!”
A few minutes later, we spilled out onto Second Avenue and waited for our respective rides. Lynch’s world remained rocked. A group of Packers fans walked by, and the running back stopped them — to apologize.
“Man, I’m sorry,” he said to the stunned green-and-gold-clad visitors. “Y’all won that game, for real.”
Lynch wasn’t at fault, of course. The imperious billionaires were. I made sure to underscore that truth as I stayed up all night writing my column in a dimly lit hotel room, and I feel comfortable reiterating it now.
Whatever the owners and the officials are haggling over, whatever leverage points are playing out in the spring, make no mistake: If the owners proceed with replacement officials when the real games begin, that’s on them — and it’s the fans who’ll pay the price.