I Love the Redskins
...but I hate them.
This must be what marriage feels like, when your partner is rejecting you emotionally. Or maybe its more like what religious faith would feel like after someone close to you was brutally murdered.
Maybe there is nothing like it. At least, in my life, there hasn't been. I grew up with the Redskins. I was 7 when they last won the Super Bowl, in 1991. I remember crying after they lost to the Cowboys in the 13th week of the season after starting out 11-0 that year, and I actually remember my dad telling my mom that in future years, I would always be dissapointed, because nothing could compare to that magical season.
And nothing has. But I'm sure my father didn't expect that I would be in for this level of dissapointment. In the 13 years following the 1991 championship season and the 9-7 season immediately following it (Joe Gibbs' last before his retirement), the Redskins have made the playoffs one time. Their records, from 1993 until now, are as follows: 4-12, 3-13, 6-10, 9-7, 8-7-1, 6-10, 10-6*, 8-8, 8-8, 7-9, 5-11, 6-10. The starred season was their lone playoff season, in 1999. I'll get into that a bit later. Their current season stands at 5-6 after this week's loss, and seems destined to be playoff-less yet again.
They seem to be in a constant rebuilding stage. They haven't been terrible since 1994, they've always been mediocre. Since Dan Snyder bought the team in 1999, he has always gone for the quick fix, spending lavishly on free agents, trading away future draft picks for current ones, and making trades that, while they address needs, are overspending to do so (the Clinton Portis deal as an example).
What is cruel is the way they lose. In 1997, they started off 7-1. Terry Allen came back from two surgically repaired knees and was a workhorse. Sport Illustrated picked them to win the Super Bowl at midseason. Then they collapsed the rest of the way, going 2-6, and finished at 9-7 and out of the playoffs.
The next year, Gus Frerotte blew a winnable division game by head-butting a wall, one of the strangest sports moments ever. He had to leave the game, the Redskins' offense floundered, and that tie, instead of a win, cost the Redskins a playoff birth. I remember listening to that game on the radio in my room (I was supposed to be in bed) and thinking, "What the hell is this?? We're cursed!!!"
After a dissapointing year in 1998, we made the playoffs in 1999. Finally!! We beat the Lions soundly, and met the Bucs in the divisional round. We were done in this time by a botched snap by Dan Turk, negating a field goal attempt that would have given us the lead with under a minute left. 6 months later, in an appropriate karmatic moment, Dan Turk died of brain cancer. I remember thinking, "Good, he deserved to die, he screwed our season!" Then, I remember thinking, "What the hell is wrong with me??"
Since then, we've gone through 4 head coaches and haven't done much of anything. We were favored to win the Super Bowl in preseason by many publications in 2000, but because of Dan Snyder's filanderings, the team lost focus and underachieved. Norv Turner was fired that year after 8 years of service, and Marty Schottenheimer was hired in the offseason.
After rebounding from an 0-5 start to finish at 8-8, Schotty was unjustly fired because Snyder wanted the ol' ball coach, Steve Spurrier. Spurrier wasn't ready for the big time, quitting after two seasons in early 2004. Then, the legend was brought back, and Joe Gibbs returned.
Since he has returned, its been more of the same. Close defeats in winnable games, overspending on questionable talents, trading away draft picks in the future for a quick fix now. Impatient tactics haven't worked so far, and they won't work now. Winners need to be built over time, not over one offseason, but Dan Snyder can't seem to understand that.
Having said all this....I still love my skins. There is something viscerally pleasing about seeing them play. The burgandy and gold must trigger an endorphin release in my brain somewhere, based on my childhood I guess. I can't ignore my team, no matter how much I hate them. Often, like today, I wish I could.
I feel sick after the Redskins lose. Literally, nauseous, headache, sick. My mind can't function either. I had two jobs this year, writing football commentary for two websites. Initially, when the Redskins were winning, the workload was nothing at all, I could handle it. In recent weeks though, as the losses piled up, I found myself staring at my computer screen in a daze, and hours would pass by without snapping out of it. I had to resign from one website because I knew I couldn't keep it up, I was too attached to my Redskins on game day.
It would be much easier to ignore the impending doom and go read a book, or play some chess, or something. It might even be healthier. But I can't do it. I can't explain why, but I just can't.
And so I watch my Redskins lose, week after week, blowing leads large and small. Its like torture. Maybe I'm a masochist. Maybe, instead of cutting myself with a knife or throwing up after I eat, the Redskins are how I punish myself.
Maybe I need some Redskins rehab.
This must be what marriage feels like, when your partner is rejecting you emotionally. Or maybe its more like what religious faith would feel like after someone close to you was brutally murdered.
Maybe there is nothing like it. At least, in my life, there hasn't been. I grew up with the Redskins. I was 7 when they last won the Super Bowl, in 1991. I remember crying after they lost to the Cowboys in the 13th week of the season after starting out 11-0 that year, and I actually remember my dad telling my mom that in future years, I would always be dissapointed, because nothing could compare to that magical season.
And nothing has. But I'm sure my father didn't expect that I would be in for this level of dissapointment. In the 13 years following the 1991 championship season and the 9-7 season immediately following it (Joe Gibbs' last before his retirement), the Redskins have made the playoffs one time. Their records, from 1993 until now, are as follows: 4-12, 3-13, 6-10, 9-7, 8-7-1, 6-10, 10-6*, 8-8, 8-8, 7-9, 5-11, 6-10. The starred season was their lone playoff season, in 1999. I'll get into that a bit later. Their current season stands at 5-6 after this week's loss, and seems destined to be playoff-less yet again.
They seem to be in a constant rebuilding stage. They haven't been terrible since 1994, they've always been mediocre. Since Dan Snyder bought the team in 1999, he has always gone for the quick fix, spending lavishly on free agents, trading away future draft picks for current ones, and making trades that, while they address needs, are overspending to do so (the Clinton Portis deal as an example).
What is cruel is the way they lose. In 1997, they started off 7-1. Terry Allen came back from two surgically repaired knees and was a workhorse. Sport Illustrated picked them to win the Super Bowl at midseason. Then they collapsed the rest of the way, going 2-6, and finished at 9-7 and out of the playoffs.
The next year, Gus Frerotte blew a winnable division game by head-butting a wall, one of the strangest sports moments ever. He had to leave the game, the Redskins' offense floundered, and that tie, instead of a win, cost the Redskins a playoff birth. I remember listening to that game on the radio in my room (I was supposed to be in bed) and thinking, "What the hell is this?? We're cursed!!!"
After a dissapointing year in 1998, we made the playoffs in 1999. Finally!! We beat the Lions soundly, and met the Bucs in the divisional round. We were done in this time by a botched snap by Dan Turk, negating a field goal attempt that would have given us the lead with under a minute left. 6 months later, in an appropriate karmatic moment, Dan Turk died of brain cancer. I remember thinking, "Good, he deserved to die, he screwed our season!" Then, I remember thinking, "What the hell is wrong with me??"
Since then, we've gone through 4 head coaches and haven't done much of anything. We were favored to win the Super Bowl in preseason by many publications in 2000, but because of Dan Snyder's filanderings, the team lost focus and underachieved. Norv Turner was fired that year after 8 years of service, and Marty Schottenheimer was hired in the offseason.
After rebounding from an 0-5 start to finish at 8-8, Schotty was unjustly fired because Snyder wanted the ol' ball coach, Steve Spurrier. Spurrier wasn't ready for the big time, quitting after two seasons in early 2004. Then, the legend was brought back, and Joe Gibbs returned.
Since he has returned, its been more of the same. Close defeats in winnable games, overspending on questionable talents, trading away draft picks in the future for a quick fix now. Impatient tactics haven't worked so far, and they won't work now. Winners need to be built over time, not over one offseason, but Dan Snyder can't seem to understand that.
Having said all this....I still love my skins. There is something viscerally pleasing about seeing them play. The burgandy and gold must trigger an endorphin release in my brain somewhere, based on my childhood I guess. I can't ignore my team, no matter how much I hate them. Often, like today, I wish I could.
I feel sick after the Redskins lose. Literally, nauseous, headache, sick. My mind can't function either. I had two jobs this year, writing football commentary for two websites. Initially, when the Redskins were winning, the workload was nothing at all, I could handle it. In recent weeks though, as the losses piled up, I found myself staring at my computer screen in a daze, and hours would pass by without snapping out of it. I had to resign from one website because I knew I couldn't keep it up, I was too attached to my Redskins on game day.
It would be much easier to ignore the impending doom and go read a book, or play some chess, or something. It might even be healthier. But I can't do it. I can't explain why, but I just can't.
And so I watch my Redskins lose, week after week, blowing leads large and small. Its like torture. Maybe I'm a masochist. Maybe, instead of cutting myself with a knife or throwing up after I eat, the Redskins are how I punish myself.
Maybe I need some Redskins rehab.
