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Why I Love the Washington Redskins - A Brief Essay

Coming up on a milestone post, I realized I'd better bring my A-game. While said A-game may rank as a solid B (with a curve), you gives what you gots.

I also started to work this up to coincide with Independence Day, and it was resplendent with patriotic imagery. In the end, I decided that today was a more appropriate day to express my love and admiration for this franchise, because today is my Mom's birthday. Not only does she turn 60-harumph-harumph today, but she's spending it at Johns Hopkins, getting a tumor tested for what is likely a recurrence of a particularly virulent abdominal cancer. Happy birthday, Mom.

Loving the Redskins is not easy. I'm thirty-six years old, and I was alive and cheering during all three Super Bowl wins. I've tasted Championship victory - it's like a ripe peach. I've also suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune - horrible drafts, mediocre play, ludicrous free agents, and misguided coaching moves. It always irked me that in the "Team of the Decade" discussions, Washington didn't get more credit for their excellence in the 1980's, but I never fought about it once I was mired in the doldrums that were the 1990's. From 1993 to 2003, the Redskins were 75-102-1, with a nearly accidental trip to the playoffs in 1999 marring a string of utter mediocrity. Some would have found an "alternate team" to root for during such a rut, or given up on football altogether. Like many of you, I endured the taunts of friends and co-workers when I matter-of-factly responded to the "Who ya root for?" with the only answer available to me. The Washington Redskins.

The Redskins descent into sub-mediocrity couldn't break my heart, even though there didn't seem to be an escape. A revolving door of coaches hired and fired by a free-spending and impatient owner had left us after 2004 with personnel that fit no known system; talent drafted and traded for to suit the needs of coaches who had quit or been fired through the preceding years. After the end of the Spurrier regime, I was talking with a fellow Skins fan at a cocktail party about how the franchise seemed almost radioactive. No coach with experience would consider working for Snyder, as his reputation for meddling would keep them from considering the job unless they were handsomely overpaid - and then they wouldn't need to win as much, because desire for almost anyone is inversely proportionate to wallet thickness in professional sports. And this idiot - this magnificent, beautiful idiot - says to me "You know who they should get? Joe Gibbs." I slowly explained to him that not only would such a hire be improbable given Gibbs' ownership stake in the Falcons, but it would be foolish to jeopardize his legacy to try and fix this damnable mess.

I never apologized to that man. Matt Haley, I'm sorry.

Gibbs brought us hope, and hope is a dangerous thing. The Redskins didn't become world-beaters under Gibbs, and fans like me continued to face abuse from front-running fans of far-flung franchises like New England (who I don't recall having such a rabid fan base before the ascent of King Belicheck I). Hope still grew, however, because for the first time in nearly a decade, it seemed like there was a rudder in the water. We were going in a direction, and if you are lost at sea, the only way to find land (Promised Land or not) is to go somewhere. So, even as the 2004 team was stripped of its top offensive player due to their attitude problems with the staff, I still had hope.

Sometimes, the faithful are rewarded.

As my mother endures another PET Scan and prays that her inevitable surgery can be scheduled soon, I remain full of fear, full of hope, full of love. Though I pray that she wins this battle, she will remain my Mom regardless of the outcome. She will always have my love. She will always have my hope. She will always have my faith.

She's the Redskins of parents.