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Washington is two different places. There are the Maryland suburbs just outside the city where I grew up.
Typical suburban towns.
Then there’s downtown Washington, an intellectual battleground like no other.
It’s where all the people who want to change the world from all over the world – especially highly ambitious, overeducated graduates of Ivy League universities – come to shape the world into the vision they have for it.
Idealism, fanaticism, political fury.
It’s divided. Those people who crash in on Washington to slant politics in their favor don’t care a whole lot about the kids who grew up in the surrounding suburbs especially if they didn’t go Ivy League.
The only thing unifying Maryland, Virginia, and Washington was, at one time, the Washington Redskins now called the Washington Commanders which doesn’t sound like a team I know.
I felt loyal to one team growing up and it was this Redskins team, and at least on Sundays the entire area could rally around something rather than argue about it.
I’m reflecting on the glory days of Joe Gibbs who led the team to three Super Bowl titles. It was the one thing about my hometown I felt relaxed and good about and wouldn’t get argued into a corner about. In the world’s most politically charged brain-obsessed inferno, the Redskins were an oasis to relax and stop arguing. At least they were a respite and it was needed.
That all changed when Dan Snyder became the owner seemingly 100 years ago. One hundred years of agony it has been. At first, all the losing and his arrogance were frustrating and then infuriating. Then it became embarrassing followed by an abomination.
Fed up with all that, the vast majority of fans stopped caring, actually hoping that our team would lose so we could have a better case to somehow get the owner to sell the team. Losing didn’t sting as it did as a kid. Nothing felt the same about this team once Jerkface took over. Not for one day, nor for one minute.
It took seemingly most of our lives for him to get out of our faces and for us to wake up from our longest nightmares. That was today, in fact, when it was announced the Jack of All Jerkfaces sold the team to another owner.
I wish I could say I’m hoping for a return to the glory days. But I have to be honest. I just don’t care about my hometown team anymore. If they start winning, I might tune in a bit. But it will never be like it was as a kid: all joy and loyalty and fun.
Too much bad stuff has run amok with this organization. There are too many reasons not to care about them anymore. It’s like an old girlfriend calling you up to say she’s interested in going out, and you’re sure you just don’t want to because you’re beyond her emotionally. You put her in your past.
My life has changed. I have new interests, moved out of the DC area, and don’t prioritize as I once did watching my team or any pro football team play on Sundays. It’s not captivating.
I wish them well, but I really say that half-heartedly and with more than a little indifference. Following pro football now seems like a waste of precious hours. What is it, after all, but a game and a bunch of gambling and TV ads and reviews of plays under the hood?
The sport has lost its allure. Now I’m more interested in reading books and writing blogs and hanging out with friends and getting exercise and laughing.
Yes, I said laughing. It’s more fun and easier to make happen than your team winning on Sunday.
I get it, Commanders, today you’re starting anew. But I don’t feel I know you anymore and I don’t really care to get reacquainted. I am not starting anew with you. You lost me as a fan and I’m sure I’m not alone.
Life moves on. What we care about changes. Priorities shift.
Football becomes less relevant.
New opportunities need to be pursued.
Ones that inspire. Ones that move our souls in more important and meaningful ways.
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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