Why the Redskins Will Kill Me-Week 12

admin — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 22:09:48 +0000

A question for the ages: Would you rather have a team that, every weekend, made you think they just might do it this time, only to dash your hopes upon the rocks like a female firstborn in Communist China? Or would you prefer a team so bad that there was no glimmer of hope to crush in the first place, ala the Cleveland Browns? Lucky, as a Redskins fan, I haven’t had to choose: At different points in the season, they’ve offered both delicious flavors of failure. And I’m not going to lie…lately, I’ve been sort of enjoying it.

The Cowboys? The Eagles? Those guys are fags!

Before the season began, Redskins fans had hope. Real hope. This was going to be Jason Campbell’s second year under Jim Zorn’s system, finally giving him time to grow familiar with the offense. Albert Haynesworth was going to be a tremendous boon to the defense, putting it near the top of the league. Within the NFC East, the New York Giants had lost some skilled players. Donovan McNabb was getting older while Andy Reid was probably preoccupd with his children running a meth lab or a drug mule service or whatever it is the younger Reids do. And Tony Romo was balls-deep in another blonde “singer” (well, she does have quite a pair of lungs). This was to be the big year. Tragically, much like Jeff Spicoli’s pot-fuelled dreams of winning a surfing competition, the Redskins’ hopes of another Super Bowl victory have gone down the crapper (I didn’t want to insult your intelligence by saying “up in smoke” while making a marijuana reference).

Proper Redskins fan attire.

I’m not a masochist (though my decisions in life would certainly suggest otherwise). Had the Redskins continued losing in the way they lost their games in the first half of this season (i.e. utterly hopeless crushings), I probably would have tuned out by now. It’s just that, for the past few weeks, the Redskins have been playing amazingly fierce ball with virtually none of their high-priced starters in the mix. The concussed Clinton Portis, whom I’ve come to despise with a passion, has been gone, along with Albert Haynesworth, DeAngelo Hall and a slew of others. And, god help them, the team has been playing better for it. The offense has been more productive, the games closer. Sure, the Redskins are still losing for the most part, but they’re losing in a really exciting way.

My friend Brian (pictured here in rather demonic fashion during the Redskins’ loss to the Atlanta Falcons a few weeks ago) texted me with an interesting idea yesterday: He wondered if Dan Snyder, given the team’s success (well, success in Redskins terms) without so many of its high-priced starters, would finally realize that you can build a successful team with a lot of no-name talent. At first I scoffed at the idea. This is Dan Snyder we’re talking about, a man who can’t achieve an erection unless he’s burning a stack of hundred dollar bills while watching tape of Deion Sanders’ press conference announcing he was signing with the Redskins. But the more I thought about it, the more it dawned on me that, first and foremost, Dan Snyder is a businessman. Much like porn in the 80s stopped being about big films and went the low-budget, straight-to-VHS route to cut production costs and ultimately make more money, maybe Dan Snyder will let his inner Jack Horner come out to play and we’ll have a team of hungry, broke starters. Just a thought, albeit an interesting one.

The syringe is probably full of gravy.

As for the game itself, I’ve got nothing to say other than the Redskins have mastered the ability to create a foreboding atmosphere beyond anything Hitchcock ever achieved. Any time they’re in the lead by a single possession or less, you know they’re going to blow it right as time expires. It’s just a matter of how. I can’t help but be reminded of going out to a bar in your best clothes, in a good mood, looking to impress some attractive girls and score some numbers. At first, it’s all going great: You tell a few jokes and learn a few names, intent on revisiting the new prospects by the end of the night to get the digits and maybe engage in some sloppy making out. Sure, there’s a fat girl who’s making eyes at you from across the bar the whole time with her Burger King-fuelled mammaries on display, but you won’t be falling for that trap!

And then, you have one too many. You begin to slur your witty banter. Your reflexes slow to the point that the quick peeks you were taking at the girls’ chests become 45-second attempts at you solving a Magic Eye puzzle that only you can seem to see. The girls leave in disgust. Well, all of the girls except for one. She’s still there. She’s always been there. She’s never left. And, much like Jason Campbell, sprawled face-down in the mud of Lincoln Financial Field yesterday after missing the fourth-down pass that would have kept the Redskins’ comeback drive alive, you lie down, close your eyes and stop fighting inevitability.

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Why the Redskins Will Kill Me-Week 12