Redskins: week 5

Earlier today, somewhere in a DC area home-

woman- "Holy shit! Holy shit! the fucking oven is on fire! Honey, get the hell in here! call 991!"

man- (eyes glazed over, tendril of drool hanging from lower lip) "yeahh....sure......honey, the skins are looooosinggggg (trails off).

I think everyone wearing burgundy and gold today can appreciate both of the emotions described above. First comes the searing wave of panic. The sweaty palms, the uncontrollable shaking which eventually subsides to a sort of meta-consciousness. The swirling images of multi-million dollar contracts, giant Dan Snyder bobble heads and echoes of press conferences from the last decade where promises were made and broken. If this comatose, zombified state describes you at any point in the last five weeks, don't worry, it's not your fault. None of us signed up for this when we pledged to "hail" every sunday. H1N1 might as well be the rest of the world's concern. For anyone residing within the beltway, or off the Dulles greenway, the problem is that our loyalty, as Redskins fans, seems to have a price. If this is the case (Mr. Snyder, feel free to jump in at any moment) how long will our currency last?

I realized long ago that the NFL had transformed itself into a mogul-laden industry, innocent and wholesome escapism replaced by the very highest benchmark of multi-media product placement. But even though the days of Lombardi, Baugh and Jergensen are long since buried, there is still room for pride, still a demand for franchise that is worthy of the loyalty with which it's paid. I love my Redskins. I have no reservations in confessing this. But any real fan knows that the 2-3 record that Washington is shouldering heading into a by-week is much worse than it looks. Jason Campbell is spent, his nine lives, gone. Zorn is flying blind and starless into the thick of a stormy schedule. The problems, simply put, are many and malignant.

If there is heart left on this team, please let it be seen. Not the heart so commonly harped on week after week that is meant to quell the tired, huddled masses. I'm talking about a desire, a NEED to win games, a burn to succeed that transcends salary promised or endorsements pending. If the skins continue to fail to play up to the level of talent they possess (and yes, their is a great deal of it) or at least play hard enough for us to say they tried, then Snyder is a modern Citizen Kane, his empire a mausoleum.

Somewhere maybe in Ashburn or Great falls, an oven is on fire. The flames slowly creep up the walls and the curtains begin to smolder, rolling into mounds of ash. The tv screen is now in sign off as the network monitor, probably a Skins fan since the seventies, has jumped off the fucking Key bridge. The man is stone still, unable to cough from the blanketing smoke and even after the fire crew has managed to move him out of the house, he says nothing, notices nothing. The score CAROLINA, 20/WASHINGTON, 17- is burned into his subconscious. Now post-game reels begin to scroll through his mind, followed by ads for Chipotle, Papa Johns and Bud light- They're official Redskins products. And too bad if you're a Dominoes fan, because you're gonna order from the poppa, because you're a Goddamn Redskins fan. You're gonna eat your stuffed crust and smile your Cooley lovin' ass off. Here's to another week and another 76 yards.