Washington Football Lobbyists

The Washington Football Team (WFT), I prefer a more fitting acronym WTF, following the media reports detailing the long running egregious behavior of the owner and upper management; could possibly be changing its name to The Commanders.

I personally think The Washington Lobbyists, would be far more frightening to the other teams. “The Lobbyists are coming! The Lobbyists are coming!” And, of course, that’s how the US government is mostly controlled, by lobbyists, so it would be appropriate.

Unfortunately, my guess is Snyder, his cronies and the league won’t go for it. Their loss I suppose, yet another loss.

I haven’t been a Redskins fan for a couple decades now, but I grew up a Skins fan during the 1980’s, the team’s heyday.

Back then, the Redskins had The Hogs: Jeff Bostic, Joe Jacoby, Ray Brown, Rus Grimm and Mark May. Offensive linemen the size of refrigerators, not to be confused with the Bears’ own Refrigerator Perry.

Arguably the best receiving crew, coined The Fun Bunch. Consisting of Art Monk, Virgil Seay, Charlie Brown and Alvin Garrett. After a TD, The Fun Bunch would gather in a circle, jump up and high five. As kids we loved that and would emulating the same TD celebration in our own neighborhood pickup games. A couple years later, the NFL outlawed the scoring ceremony, because the Cowboys tussled with our lads after one particle TD. Although life went on, we missed the high fiving.

The Skins possessed resident running backs John ‘Diesel’ Riggins and Joe Washington. We used to joke that Riggins would take the ball up the gut to gain only a yard or two, while Joe Washington would take it outside and run for 10 or 20 yards. However, no one can forget the famous 43-yard TD run on 4th down and 1 against the Dolphins in Super Bowl XVII (1982). Riggins didn’t take it up the middle, but instead turned outside with the help of a block from his tight end, Clint Didier. The Dolphin defender, Don McNeal, grabbed Riggins’ jersey, but the Diesel kept on chugging, ripping away from Don all the way for a touchdown. Yes, Riggo needed oxygen after that sprint.

Hall of Fame cornerback Darrel Greene was a Redskin, who for 20 seasons tackled and intercepted enemy offensive players with lightning speed. Darrel won fastest NFL player for 4 of those seasons; even if, he probably could have been the fastest in all 20 seasons when it came to running guys down on the field.

The Skins also had the steel toe kicker, Mark Moseley. A record holder at the time for the most consecutive field goals.

Finally, the Redskins were the proud owners of the first African American Super Bowl XXII wining, MVP quarterback, Doug Williams. In that game, Williams broke the Super Bowl record, previously held by Joe Montana, for most passing yards, 340.

RFK stadium lay in the heart of DC. It was good for city morale and economics. Providing jobs and jubilation for home games.

Going to a game remained an experience. Even at 11 or 12 years old, Brad and I traveled alone to RFK, when kids were allowed to do things on their own. Fans could take the Metro (subway) to the games. Street vendors sold souvenirs, hotdogs, and pretzels all the way from the Metro stop to the stadium gates. Fans and vendors would amicably joke with one another, exchanging platitudinous banter, that made for a lively milieu.

My neighborhood buddy’s parents had two coveted season tickets, passed down a couple generations. At the time the waiting list for season tickets numbered in the thousands. The seats weren’t amazing, maybe 30 or 40 rows back in one of the end zones, but RFK didn’t really have bad seats. The stadium was loud and intimate. We sat on metal bleachers that could make a heck of a racket when repeatedly stomped.

I vividly remember walking in maybe 5 minutes late. Brad and I had to perambulate along the fence at the bottom of the stadium track. The current play was happening right there on maybe the 25-yard line. I could smell the freshly cut green grass. The roar of fans cheering, faces painted, some with headdress, waiving giant foam hands. Witnessing how large those linemen really were. The intensity of the play, seconds before the snap. And the crunch of the contact on that running play. There was an energy on the field, a euphoric pitch of real life, not available at home watching on TV. An empirical moment that could not be taught or retold. (Well, I’m trying my best).

The team, the stadium, the games and the DC city unity were all legendary at the time.

The franchise was originally founded in 1932 as the Boston Braves. The next year the team changed its name to the Boston Redskins, before relocating to Washington in 1937. For about 89 years, the team possessed an offensive name. Growing up as a kid you don’t necessarily consider the appellation of the local team you support. To me, the name was just a subject heading. The team could have been called the Shoe Hoppers and it wouldn’t have really mattered.

Maybe shoes instead of war paint and headdresses would have been a tad less enticing for fans, but it was the players, the style of play and excitement of that weekly event that remained influential to us kids. Before the game the neighborhood lads would play touch or tackle football. Pass the ball around at halftime. And then play after the game. Just about everyone watched the Sunday game.

At first, I thought it was silly to change the franchise name. But now I’m all for it. I mean, do names matter? Of course, they do. The reason we don’t like being called stupid or blockhead, or a lot worse.

For a decade short of a hundred years, the Washington Football Team has been name calling itself, disparaging Native Americans. My vote is for THE WASHINGTON LOBBYISTS. God bless professional sports, however, silly they remain.