Washington Redskins: Someday Never Comes
First thing I remember was askin' papa, "Why?"
For there were many things I didn't know.
And Daddy always smiled; took me by the hand
Sayin', "Someday you'll understand."
After another second-rate season of Washington Redskins football, I have been feeling less and less emotionally attached to the football team I love so much.
I feel like the season is already over, and we are further from being a championship contender than we have been in many years. It seems like the day will never come when the franchise is back to being respected in the NFL. I find myself trying to understand.
Passing up tickets to a Dallas–Washington game in December seemed like blasphemy in September.
I am glad I didn’t go; there was not much to see. Unless, of course, you enjoy seeing your team get crushed by its archrivals.
When all the preseason experts picked Washington to finish in last place in the NFC East, I thought they were crazy. I just did not understand.
“Someday you will see,” I said to an older fellow across the bar. “Someday when we do win again, all this misery and losing will make it that much sweeter.” His answer? “Someday never comes.”
It was funny, because I had recently found out about a song with that title by Creedence Clearwater Revival. After listening several times, I found the lyrics fit my recent mood about the team perfectly.
Fans over the age of 30 remember the good times, the parades through downtown, RFK bouncing like a Slinky, 70 chip, the Hogs, Riggo, and the original version of Joe Gibbs. They all understand what those days meant.
The youth of Redskins Nation doesn’t have so much, nary a Hall of Famer, despite the end of Darrell Green's career. The best moment I can remember was probably watching Art Monk's enshrinement into Canton.
Hanging onto the Redskins' past is all we have. It has sunk that low for our generation.
Our greatest player from this decade was murdered in his own home. Every other great player we thought we were getting turned out to be a fraud (except London Fletcher).
Next August will bring the same excitement into D.C. that every training camp brings. Surely a few new sexy free agents will come along for the ride.
Maybe the long snapper will walk upstairs to the owner, right past the head coach, and executive vice president demanding a raise, much like our fullback did this past preseason. Odds are, he will probably convince the owner he deserves it, and will reward us with his worst season in years.
I will still be there, despite a dysfunctional front office, subpar game planning, atrocious draft history, and scoring fewer than 30 points almost every week.
I’m always thinking: When will the team stabilize a roster of good character guys who play together as a team?
"This day may never come," is the answer many of us have come to grips with. When will we develop our own perennial Pro Bowlers, instead of taking aging former Pro Bowlers and giving them one last big contract?
Someday never comes, it seems.
But I believe, someday, it will come.
I understand that some fans have had enough and are jumping ship. I, for one, do not think that is the answer.
One year, when all the strangely assembled pieces come together and the Skins recapture the heart of the city—that is the day I will finally understand.
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