SEATTLE — Mike Macdonald calls them “walk and talks.”

Every third Thursday, the Seattle Seahawks coach pairs unlikely teammates together, presents a prompt and lets them learn about each other. To take talent and add togetherness. To create bonds that can’t be bought or faked or broken, that settle into steel.

Super Bowl week was no exception.

“We did it today,” Macdonald said Feb. 5, three days before dismantling the New England Patriots. “Hopefully the guys don’t mind me (sharing), but the last question was, ‘Ten years from now, when we have our team reunion, what are you guys going to remember about this team?’”

Obviously, I can’t speak for anyone. Certainly not a Seahawk. Their answers are their own.

But let’s take a walk (and talk) down memory lane.

Ten years from now, here’s what I’ll remember about the team that brought Seattle its second Super Bowl.

I’ll remember watching cigar smoke waft out of Levi’s Stadium’s home locker room, while former Seahawks Michael Bennett, Cliff Avril and Jermaine Kearse — whose celebration was intercepted 11 years earlier — waited happily in the hallway. I’ll remember the “SEATTLE SEAHAWKS” branding pasted to the walls above the lockers, a forced redecorating for the rival San Francisco 49ers. I’ll remember two “12 AS ONE” signs taped above the double doors.

(The Seahawks smoked cigars in both Levi’s Stadium locker rooms in the same season. The smell will fade, but that fact will fester.)

I’ll remember rookie Rylie Mills’ karmic comeback. A year ago, the 290-pound defensive end watched from the sideline as Notre Dame fell in the national championship game, after tearing his ACL weeks earlier. In the Super Bowl, he plowed a Patriots lineman into Maye for his first NFL sack.

“Ever since I got here, people were like, ‘What are you about?’ And I was like, ‘I just run through someone’s face and get to the quarterback.’ I put it on tape (today),” said Mills, holding a cigar in one hand and a Coors Light in the other. “I did it for the older guys in the room that wanted to win a Super Bowl, that had been playing for 10-plus years. To do it for them means the world.”

Oh, the older guys. I’ll remember the tears in journeyman tight end Eric Saubert’s eyes, after splitting nine NFL seasons among eight teams, a jagged path to the promised land.

“Oh my God, it makes it all worth it,” the 31-year-old said after the Super Bowl, voice wavering, reality arriving. “Waves of emotion. The times when you think you’re not good enough, maybe you should do something else. The doubt, getting cut, getting released, getting traded, being resilient … it makes it all worth it. I have so many emotions going through me.”

I’ll remember the emotion draining from New England’s sideline after Drake Maye’s lame-duck interception to Seahawks safety Julian Love. And Macdonald staring into the sky as fireworks lit up Levi’s Stadium, a disbelieving smile slowly spreading.

I’ll remember the sound of Seattle in Santa Clara, Calif. When New England took the field for its first offensive possession, Maye was greeted by a dominant defense and a deafening din. There were audible laughs in the press box, as the uneven atmosphere was undeniable. Cornerback Devon Witherspoon raised his arms to egg on the torrential 12s.

From Rashid Shaheed’s earthshaking return touchdown against San Francisco, to road wins in Washington, D.C., and Arizona and everywhere else, this was the season Seahawks fans reasserted themselves.

I’ll remember hearing Seahawks quarterback Sam Darnold talk about trust.

On media night six days before the Super Bowl, Darnold said: “I’ve been on five different teams during my career. I feel like you’re just trying to earn people’s trust every single offseason and during the season.”

For too long, trust has been fleeting, tentatively earned and often tarnished. It doesn’t transfer between teams. But during Super Bowl week, a massive photo of a laughing Darnold was plastered on the side of Levi’s Stadium, where he once spent a season as Brock Purdy’s backup.

It was an uphill battle, but he finally has that trust. It came with the trophy.

I’ll remember how loose and focused — more on that in a minute — the Seahawks felt Thursday, as defensive tackle Jarran Reed kicked a soccer ball during the final media availability of Super Bowl week. Teammates shadowboxed between interviews. A visiting Avril teased Reed, his former rookie. Wide receiver Cooper Kupp drew up plays for a media member, while wearing an “I (heart) Sam Darnold” shirt. It all felt oddly ordinary, another day at Macdonald’s office.

I’ll remember the Seahawks’ tidal wave of tag lines — “loose and focused,” “chasing edges,” “M.O.B.,” “12 as one,” “stacking plays,” etc. And I’ll know they weren’t just words.

I’ll remember the words that echoed more with every win — linebacker and leader Ernest Jones IV’s expletive after the loss in Los Angeles, defending Darnold; general manager John Schneider declaring it a “cool day in Seahawks history” after trading up to draft defensive back Nick Emmanwori; the collective calm even after a season-opening loss to San Francisco.

I’ll remember the skyline of impossible peaks — Darnold’s Rams redemption, Jaxon Smith-Njigba’s balletic brilliance, DeMarcus Lawrence’s identical defensive touchdowns against Arizona, Jones’ circus pick-six against Minnesota, Macdonald’s outdueling of 49ers coach Kyle Shanahan, Zach Charbonnet’s decision to pick up a football that fell on the floor.

Maybe I’ll remember this as the beginning.

After all, the Seahawks ended their season with 10 straight wins and a dominant point differential of plus-246, the best by a Super Bowl champion since the 1999 Rams. They also have the NFL’s sixth-most cap space, the third-youngest roster and the ability to bring back almost everybody.

Most critically, they have Schneider and Macdonald.

Which means, in future third Thursdays, we should have plenty to walk and talk about.

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