Here we go again. From now until midwinter, it will be Redskins, Redskins and more Redskins in these sporting parts - whether we like it or not.
It’s not the economy, stupid, at least not hereabouts.
It’s not health care, inflation, the national debt or President Obama’s job ratings either. Or even Sarah Palin’s circuitous political route and what it might mean in 2012.
Forget all that, along with most of your neighbors, and concentrate on burning issues like whether Jason Campbell will step up or whether Jim Zorn might step down (with an assist from Dan Snyder, of course).
Maybe you don’t give a rodent’s rump. Maybe you think NFL means National Federation of Labor. Even worse, maybe you’re a Cowboys, Giants or Eagles fan.
In that unhappy event, I got news for you: You’re in more of a minority than folks who think the price of gas is too low.
Is it all worthwhile? Should we give our hearts and souls to a bunch of overpaid jocks playing for a team that hasn’t gone to a Super Bowl in 16 years?
You’ll have to answer that question in the privacy of your own heart, but it remains undisputable that the Redskins dominate attention like no other sporting entity in this supposedly sophisticated capital of the free world.
Part of the reason is by process of elimination. This area existed without a major league baseball team for more than three decades (assuming we have one now) and hasn’t rejoiced over a pennant winner since FDR’s rookie season of 1933 at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.
The Bullets/Wizards haven’t hoisted an NBA championship banner since 1978, and the Capitals’ next Stanley Cup will be their first.
True, D.C. United has collected a bunch of Major League Soccer titles, but it will be a while longer before this area goes bonkers about a sport known throughout most of the world as “football.”
So it’s Redskins uber alles.
This is hardly anything new. Desperate for something to do on autumn Sundays, fans in the District and environs fell head over heels for the Redskins as soon as laundry magnate George Preston Marshall led them here from Beantown in 1937.
A cowboy from Texas named Samuel Adrian Baugh cemented the love affair by throwing a football better than anybody else ever had and leading his team to the NFL title in his first season.
Slingin’ Sam hung around the District for a then-record 16 seasons. The Redskins won five division and two NFL titles in their first nine seasons, and not even an unreal 73-0 obliteration by the Chicago Bears in the 1940 championship game drove away true loyalists.
Starting in 1946, though, things went south - literally. With Marshall refusing to employ black players in the late ’40s and ’50s because of his Southern radio and TV networks, the Redskins endured 25 long years without making any kind of playoff appearance. Crowds often came disguised as empty seats at ancient Griffith Stadium, and for a while it appeared the romance was over.
Shiny new D.C. (now RFK) Stadium opened in 1961, and soon Kennedy administration officials forced Marshall to integrate the team if he wished to play there. Nonpareil passer Sonny Jurgensen and marvelous linebacker Sam Huff arrived in 1964, followed over the years by coaching geniuses Vince Lombardi (sadly for just one season), George Allen and Joe Gibbs. While Gibbs directed the Redskins to three Super Bowl victories in 11 years, the Burgundy and Gold ruled the town again.
And they still do, despite all the frustrations of the immediate past. Snyder has displayed a tendency - not necessarily favorable - to sign high-priced free agents whose best days are somewhere to the rear. Plus, he refuses to bring in a genuine general manager, relying rather on sweet nothings whispered into his ear by lapdog Vinny Cerrato.
And don’t even mention Danny Boy’s coaches. No definitive opinion can be rendered on Zorn yet, but Norv Turner’s dismal career record suggests he should have been relegated to the high school ranks. Whoever thought Steve Spurrier’s laid-back work habits could succeed in the NFL? Snyder’s best hire, Marty Schottenheimer, took it on the lam after one season because of interference by the boss.
So here we are at the start of another season with high hopes and low expectations. The Redskins should finish 8-8 again, or thereabouts, and thereby leave their fans chanting the old Brooklyn Dodgers’ refrain of “Wait ’til next year.” Or next decade.
And you know what: It won’t matter. We’ll still fill FedEx Field for eight home games a year, paint our faces in the appropriate colors and scream our fool heads off whenever Clinton Portis or Santana Moss crosses the plane of the goal line.
Are you ready for some Redskins football?
Ready or not, here it comes.
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