Washington Redskins: A Fan's Letter to the Football Gods

I'd like to preface this by saying I was inspired by something I saw on SportsCenter recently. It was a montage of fan letters from all over the country, all of which were celebrating the heritage of each fan's respective base. It was poignant, it was timely, and it wasn't forced.  There was genuine emotion in each letter read, and as the story moved from Green Bay, to Pittsburgh and on down toNew Orleans, I noticed that one city in particular was not included on the list.  

Perhaps someone had written a letter and was just too bogged down in 495 traffic to get to the post office in time. Maybe a certain team owner intercepted the letter and had it shredded—who knows? The point is, D.C. was not represented on what I thought was one of ESPN's best segments in some time.

Moreover, I'm tired of hoping that the Dan Snyders and the Albert Haynesworths of this world will be clear across the country or out of football altogether when I wake up the following day. So, I'm going straight to the top. If the football gods read Bleacher Report, I hope this letter finds its way to them.  

Dear NFL gods,

Hope all is well up there in the Executive Executive owner's suite. For those of us down here the summer weather has been pretty nice, the Nationals have been interesting lately, and we're loving the lockout—I mean, L-O-V-I-N-G IT.

I don't want to speak for anyone else but I'm fairly certain watching MLB reruns through what is normally football season won't be a problem. Of course, I'm kidding—it's a HUGE problem. I know you're not in the guarantee business, but, assuming you were, could you end this circus already? Great, thanks. And since we're on the subject of ending things, how about you issue a ceasefire on the madness in D.C.

Seriously, it's not funny anymore.  

This is Washington, D.C. We're not some expansion market, nor are we a hotbed for fair weather spectators. We love our Redskins, always have. You think we'd ever stop coming out in force for the Dallas game? Have you ever heard any of us mention Sammy Baugh, Art Monk, Sam Huff, or Joe Gibbs without a profound sense of reverence? Have we stopped wearing burgundy and gold despite the degree to which our franchise has fallen over the last two decades? Have you seen any of us stop being fans? NO, to all of the above.  

Yet the ghosts of those Gibbs era championships have long since drifted off of this plane. You might consider all the empty promises handed out by Snyder and Co. to be a hapless seance meant to purge this franchise of all its former glory. Now, with the lockout, FedEx Field feels like the spooky old house that all the neighborhood kids throw rocks at, a mausoleum full of bitter memories and bad juju.  

So, I'll just come right out and say it: Help us out. 

I'm not looking for a Superbowl trophy right off the bat (wouldn't be bad, though) but rather a real sense of direction. What we really want here in Washington is an established sense of identity.  I'd like to point at the TV on Sunday and say:

"That's my quarterback," or

"They'll never beat our front three on 4th & 1."

It's little things like these which truly validate being a die-hard fan. But after all Snyder has done—and more importantly failed to do—there is very little validation left. The rain has fallen hard these last 12 years and Redskins nation has stood out in it waiting for the clouds to break. But unless I'm completely mistaken, the silver lining is starting to show.  

You are a fickle bunch, for sure, but I know that you are also conscious of how things are cyclical. The lockout is as bad as it gets, but part of me also wonders if it isn't a blessing in disguise. Maybe Snyder is spending his time reflecting, maybe he is also calling to you just as I am. If he has any sense he better be camping out in the chapel at Redskins Park.  

When the lockout ends the NFL will be starting on a proverbial blank slate, and I'm hoping that when the stay is lifted and it's back to business as usual, you, the gridiron gods, will be willing to reward the prepared franchise.  

Use whatever means necessary to get through to Danny boy: angelic renditions of "Hail to the Redskins," rain down Five Guy's hamburgers from the sky, or send down St. Lombardi with a harp and a message.  

I don't care, just get it done.  

For the love to start filtering back down Constitution Avenue we need Snyder to see the light in a way he never has before. Snyder needs to know this can be a new beginning just as I know it can be. Call it divine intervention, or better yet: divine audible.  

Or maybe I've managed to catch you all in a really good mood and you wouldn't mind displacing Snyder altogether. I'm sure you have HBO up there in the ethereal skybox and have watched "Inception." Go ahead and plant the idea in his head that he needs to immediately sell the team to Ted Leonsis for a bag of chips. Imagine the praise you'd get from that move.  Imagine the kid gloves Ted would use if he handled the franchise and just imagine how good you, the NFL gods, would look after that little stroke of grace.

If you haven't picked up on it yet, I'm playing to your hubris. Is it working?

Here's the bottom line, though: In my short time on Earth I've watched the Redskins go from flagship NFL franchise to laughing stock of a league in disarray. We've seen the havoc ineptitude has wrought here in D.C. and so far the men in charge have failed to steer the ship back on course. So, I feel it's up to you, NFL gods, to take some accountability. I know we have some credit left over from all those years when Gibbs and the hogs ruled and when Sonny Jurgensen defined old school and spitfire as a ball-slinger.

So, on behalf of Redskins nation, I'd like to cash in those chips. 

I'm hoping it's money well spent. It wouldn't be the first time we've seen investments go sour in this city. In fact, there are one hundred million reasons to think this literary hail-mary won't pay off. 

Regardless, I'm willing to exercise a little faith in the hopes that a renewed franchise begins playing in Washington. When and if greatness returns to the capitol, I'll be sure to point to the sky and throw a big salute. Until then I'll just savor the weather here in Northern Virginia, enjoy the traffic on 267, and believe that there is still a little life left in that old burgundy and gold.  

Sincerely,

Zach and Skins Nation