He had unbounded energy on the field; so much that you couldn’t help but notice him. Before the snap, Seau looked like he was caged by the line of scrimmage. All this energy was bursting forth from the 55 on his chest, and if he didn’t get to attack the offense in the next few seconds, it seemed like we’d see a supernova explosion right there between the tackle and the defensive end.

For years at a time, Seau was the only thing about the Chargers worth looking at. He was there in ‘90 and ‘91, when the Chargers were trying to overcome Billy Joe Tolliver and John Friesz. He was, of course, there in ‘94 when Bobby Ross had helped right the ship and the Chargers became AFC Champions. He was there through Kevin Gilbride and June Jones. He was there when the Chargers pinned their hopes to Ryan Leaf. He was there for 1-15.

Through all of this, Seau’s energy level never changed. He didn’t play any harder on January 29, 1995, when 83.4 million people were watching him in Super Bowl XXIX, than he did on December 24th in 2000, when the 1-14 Chargers had to play out the string against the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Seau’s trademark energy and electricity were there on every play, in every game, whether a world championship was on the line, or one of Craig Whelihan’s two career victories. It never felt like Seau played for anything he might’ve gained from an outstanding effort — it looked like he played simply because there was football to be played, and if you get to play football on a given day, why not pour your entire being into it? That’s what Seau was to the Chargers organization — the one thing they knew they could be proud of, no matter what else was happening under the lightning bolt banner. Seau was the light — often, the only light — in the organization. From 1990 to 2002, it never flickered.