My dethroned Seattle Seahawks are licking their wounds over the dumbest call in the history of the Super Bowl universe, one that ended in an interception with 20 seconds left as we were driving for the likely winning touchdown. The details are too painful to recount, but you’re probably aware of them in any event – suffice it to say that the New England Patriots are the 2015 champions of the NFL as of Feb. 1 amid Seattle’s wholesale abandonment of its presence of mind. The Hawks sure belonged in what turned out to be one of the best Super Bowls ever; ironically, one unfathomable decision squandered a franchise opportunity that may never present itself again. Damn. Why don’t you just hit me with your car. In a footnote to the regular season, the San Diego Chargers beat those same defending-champion Seahawks 30-21 en route to a 9-7 mark. Not a memorable stat, but maybe significant in that the city is finally showing some grit toward solutions to its standstill on a new NFL stadium. On Jan. 30, with Petco Park as the backdrop, Mayor Kevin Faulconer introduced a nine-member task force on the matter, pledging to unveil a financing plan and a site proposal sometime this fall. Faulconer managed to sound like an NFL city mayor at the event – and any franchise with bragging rights over a Super Bowl champ, especially one that plays at the archaeological dig that is Qualcomm Stadium, might just be willing to break a deadlock that’s been dogging the city’s cultural scene since at least 2003. In fact, the Citizens’ Stadium Advisory Group announced Feb. 6 it will hold a forum to receive public input on the stadium plan (the date hasn’t been publicly announced), to include information on funding. Sources have floated a figure of $1.2 billion for the project – and a Jan. 30 published report from Survey USA shows respondents decidedly against funding it through taxpayer funds or tax breaks. Neither, they say, should local governments contribute public land toward a site. Theoretically, that would leave the city and the NFL with the lion’s share of the fiscal burden, possibly opening new subsets of arguments and further delays in an already interminable affair. One funding solution, however, may appeal to the 56 percent of respondents who think the team will stay in San Diego regardless of the level of progress on the stadium. And it’s already passed the test in one storied franchise, appealing to the pride of ownership that invariably trumps the he-said, she-said back-and-forth of political gamesmanship. The Green Bay Packers launched a public stock offering in 2011, the fifth in franchise history, in an effort to raise funds for improvements to Lambeau Field. The sale netted about $67 million toward the $143 million project; 268,000 shares were sold (185,000 in the first two days of December) at $250 apiece. Green Bay doesn’t sell shares outside the sale time period, and one official says the next offering probably won’t take place for another 10 years. Moreover, the shares are classified as common stock, meaning they don’t increase or decline in value and that they aren’t transferable between private owners. But there’s something else at stake here, namely the inherent fairness involved in the process. Unlike taxpayers, stock buyers have a choice in the matter, much like any private donor or volunteer. They’re invited to shareholders meetings, and they get a fancy ownership certificate for their trouble. Even as these perks pale against the monolith that is the NFL (which operates at a $9 billion annual budget), they resonate with fans whose pro-Packer sentiment is inviolate. The sales are invariably popular in the extreme, even with the Canadian fans who bought 20,000 shares at the last sale. But don’t hold out hope that such a plan will meet with success in San Diego. Or any of the other 31 NFL cities. League ownership rules require a franchise’s main owner to possess a certain amount of shares that would otherwise go on sale, and grandfathered Green Bay somehow evaded scrutiny in the 1950s, when those rules were invoked. There’s gotta be an easier way around all the red tape, set to unfurl when Faulconer cites specific stadium plans this fall. Unfortunately, public ownership isn’t one of them. While the latest movement on a Chargers home finally has some substance, much of the development will be put to several votes, and the city administration will likely muddy the waters further amid its fixation on permits (you’ll recall the protracted timetable that marked construction at Petco). Seattle is no longer NFL champion, but the franchise (Green Bay’s too, for that matter) is years ahead of San Diego in its infrastructural needs and place in the public mind. The Seahawk loss is a killer blow because of the way it ended, but the NFL’s prohibition against public ownership is an equally bonehead call, with far greater implications than a once-in-a-lifetime error on the field.