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It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. The year was 1979. Dr. Hook and Little River band, each had two of the top 100 songs and Nicole Richie’s dad was still a Commodore. Nothing was coming between Brooke Shields and her Calvins, and Americans were worried about exploding Pintos, Three Mile Island, and Iranian radicals (glad that’s worked itself out). For Redskins fans it also marks the last time the Redskins faced the Cowboys on the final week of the season, to decide the NFC East.
How great it is for anyone to actually give a damn about what the Redskins do, less than a week from the new year. Add to that they’ll face mortal enemies, the Dalls Cowboys. I am terrified and excited at the same time. The ending of this game will offer fans the highest of highs or the lowest of lows. But that’s what it’s all about. That’s why we are fans. It allows us the emotional release, that if we were fully human, we would get with our spouses and children. But a playoff run, and plenty of brown liquor, provide a close facsimile to the feelings of real relationships. Perhaps I’ve said too much.
The names a different now. Instead of Theisman and Riggins v Staubach and Drew Pearson, it’s RGIII and Alfred Morris v Tony Romo and Dez Bryant. Who by the way is in full beast mode right now. But it’s what we’ve wanted for 20 years. To root for a relevant team again. With a loss, from a big picture standpoint I think many fans will be happy as we look to the future, but will hurt in the short term. But a win that sends the Cowboys home will be fantastic. Now if John Mara’s Giants stay home too, I may not wear pants for a week. Now pour something tall and strong, and shine up your K-Car. It’s 1979 all over again. (Yes, I know the ‘Boys won that one in ’79, but allow me some poetic liscence.)
As a Redskin fan, I simply cannot wrap my feeble brain around this. The Giants, who will face the Patriots in the Super Bowl on Sunday, lost twice to the 5-11 team from D.C.. It’s like Julia Roberts marrying Lyle Lovett, or the Alec Baldwin in Pearl Harbor. It strains credulity, and simply makes no sense at all.
The first game in week one was a road game for the G-men, and they came into Fed-Ex field beat up and unprepared for the onslaught of Rex Grossman. That’s fine. It happens. The Redskins still believed that Rex was an NFL caliber QB, and didn’t know they were supposed to lose. But the second loss to Washington defies all logic.
In that tilt, the 4-9 Redskins traveled to New York with 1/3 of their starting offense. In a game that the Giants needed to win the Skins managed to win by 13. The Giants had gotten their front four back and should have made Rex Grossman more uncomfortable than Paula Deen in a Pilates class.
I can’t explain why it happened, but I think it was that loss that eventually propelled the Giants to Super Bowl XLVI. In the parlance of 12 step programs, they had finally hit bottom. When they woke up on December 19th the Giants had to look in the mirror and admit that they had a problem. Losing twice to the Redskins was the NFL equivalent to blowing a hobo for beer money. “Hi My name is Osi and I lost to the Redskins twice.”
After the first loss, they saw themselves like a cocaine user who thinks they can do it occasionally. Antrelle Rolle saying “If we played them 100 times, they might win five.”, was the same as “Yeah I gave my dealer a handjob, but I can quit any time.” The second loss made them put down the crack pipe once and for all and turn their team around.
I’m not sure what, if anything it says about Washington, but to be the League’s rock bottom is shameful. And Devin Thomas is more likely to get a Super Bowl ring than anybody on the Redskins roster.
“Hi my name is Danny, and I’m addicted to overpriced free agents.”