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The night was December 31st, 1972. My family invited dozens of neighborhood friends over for a New Year’s Eve celebration. Some drinks, some food, to share good cheer, you know, usher in the New Year.
But this wasn’t just another New Year’s Eve party we hosted every year at our house. This night was different.
A 20-something neighbor from up the street, John Crouch, and his Dad stood at the front door. I answered. John grinned. Nothing fake or sly about that grin. Genuine happiness. He wore a burgundy and gold Redskins hat. I knew why.
Earlier that afternoon the Redskins had smoked the Dallas Cowboys, 26-3, at RFK Stadium, the city’s only true home. What that NFC Title victory meant was our beloved hometown team had qualified for its first Super Bowl.
The party that night was electric. Everybody talked about the victory. A neighborhood bonded at our house poured another beverage, and talked about the unthinkable that had just happened. The lowliest team from Washington, D.C., the Washington Redskins, had ascended to the top of the football world led by Billy Kilmer, Charley Taylor, Larry Brown, Jerry Smith, Roy Jefferson, Chris Hanburger, Ron McDole, Jack Pardee, Pat Fischer, Mike Bass, Kenny Houston, and so many others.
A city more divided so much of the time unified for that one night. As a little kid only nine years old, I remember feeling excited about the team and I remember the emotional bonding and buzzing of people in our house that night almost all adults along with my older brothers and sisters.
Of all the great moments rooting for the Redskins growing up, that one night stands out as the best of all because it was the first time our team had made it to the Super Bowl. The Skins had crossed the threshold and had made our city proud. We were winners.
A victory party on a party day, doubling the fun: New Year’s Eve.
I am thinking about that glorious night 52 years ago – one of the favorites in my entire life – as I reflect on what our hometown team, the Commanders (formerly Redskins), did last night.
Fifty-two years might as well be 152 years it’s such a long swath of time. People have been born and died in that time. People have gotten married and had kids and retired in that time. Everything under the sun has happened in the past 52 years. This was pre-Internet, pre-computer, pre-smartphone, pre-microwave oven, pre-MTV. In some ways, it was prehistoric compared with now.
Yet here we are, still alive, to have experienced what our hometown team did last night. A city forming a bond, cheering all through the game, some born decades after that night 52 years ago, some who remember New Year’s Eve 1972 well, some who don’t know anything about it.
Last night Washington had another rousing reunion. Like in 1972, last night’s playoff-clinching win unfolded right around the time of New Year’s Eve, which is tomorrow. Right in front of us, lovable quarterback Jayden Daniels engineered a final touchdown drive in overtime to overthrow the Atlanta Falcons and cement a playoff spot.
Glorious.
Hope-generating.
Making us believers.
In our hometown team.
Once again.
Fifty-two years later.
It almost feels like I’m dreaming of watching Daniels play quarterback. My team has a guy who runs like Lamar Jackson and passes like Patrick Mahomes. If he were a baseball pitcher I’d compare his accuracy to Greg Maddux. So quick and elusive, so elusive, so calm, so good, so humble. What a spiral he spins. Hits receivers where they can catch the ball easily.
This guy is not a big mouth, he’s a big-time ball player. What’s more, he doesn’t rely on his natural talent alone. He gets to the practice facility at 5:30 am to study film and work on his passing motion. Dedication to his craft is what he’s all about. Conjures up images of Tom Brady in a dark film room two hours before anyone else in the organization arrives at the facility. We all know what that dedication did for Tom Brady.
The fact that Daniels is the quarterback of my team – a team I ignored for decades because they were so inept, a team I’ve criticized, a team I haven’t liked since 1991, a team I haven’t been faithful to – feels unbelievable and fragile. My fear is this will all fade away fast. When your team is bad for several straight decades you lose faith that they’ll ever be good again.
But they are. It’s shocking, surprising, and spell-binding.
They may lose next week and in the playoffs and that will sting. But what they did last night, the way they made me feel proud and excited about my hometown team again, is plenty for me, more than I deserve having been a disloyal fan for so long.
Most importantly for now, we were all together again for one night, last night, and will be next week and for the playoff game.
All Washingtonians.
Fifty-two years later.
Happy New Year’s Eve, my fellow Washingtonians.
We’re bonded again.
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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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