Redskins: Fear and Confusion in Washington – The Wave by Diane Chesebrough

Strange memories on that awful Sunday in Toronto.

Fifteen years later? Twenty-five? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era—the kind of peak that never comes again. Washington, D.C.  in the middle eighties was a very special time and place to be a part of.  The Washington Redskins were a strong team and had a boon of post-season victories, with the likes of Joe Gibbs, Russ Grimm, Dexter Manley, Joe Theismann, Darrell Green and John Riggins leading the way.

Maybe all of those victories meant something. Maybe not – in the long run .

But in this past Sunday’s loss against the Buffalo Bills, no plays called or half-time adjustments made could touch Redskins’ fans sense of knowing that those upstate New York players were there and alive in their locker room and their position on the field. Whatever it meant …

History is hard to know, because of all the PR spin put on everything. But even without being sure of “history,” it seems entirely reasonable to hope that – every now and then – the energy of a whole Redskins team might come to a victory in a sixty-minute game, because the team played with a balanced attack that nobody really believed could happen at the time—and which never was expected, in retrospect.

My central memory of last Sunday seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty plays —when Redskins’ quarterback John Beck dropped back from the huddle, followed by a Buffalo Bills defender; harassed and, half-crazy and, instead of getting the pass off to the intended receiver, aimed the pigskin down the field, spiraling beautifully; wearing his number 12 jersey and the gold pants… into the hands of Bills’ safety George Wilson… who (along with his teammates) was absolutely certain that no matter which play was called, the Redskins offense would lead to a place where Sav Rocca’s punts were just as high and long as ever because of all of the practice he was getting:  No doubt at all about that …

There were obstacles with every play, in any quarter. If not on the offense, then on the defense or special teams…. You could find problems everywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever the Redskins were doing was wrong, that they were losing…

And that, I think, was the handle — that sense of inevitable defeat due to the forces of a lock-out-shortened-off-season and not enough depth at key positions. Not in any intended or malicious sense would fans or media point this out; the team knew. They didn’t need that.  Their lack of energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on offense, defense or special teams.

Their opponent had all the momentum; the Redskins were – maybe are – riding the crest of a low and ugly wave….

So now, less than a week later, you can go up on a steep hill in Ashburn and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the San Francisco 49ers—that surprisingly good 6-1 team, who might help the wave finally break, take the Washington Redskins’ season out to sea and roll back.

Let us hope not.

Hail.