Monday, November 16, 2009

Let the D.C. Lame Duck Session Begin!

(my dad did meth into his 40s, no shit, that's for real; and he didn't live to his 50s)
A lame duck session in D.C. politics is when the President pardons all his homeboys or signs executive orders for crazy William B. Cooper Behold a Pale Horse type shit, and Congress passes laws that have actual meat in them instead of watered down bullshit with fancy titles like they're "hammering" out for health care or whatever the fuck is their cause celebre of this week. Well, honestly, regardless of what happens, Jim Zorn and Jason Campbell are done in D.C. (and it looks like the wagons are circling for the same to be said of Clinton Portis too). On one hand, as a guy who roots for the Redskins with complete emotional investment even though I have zero control over the outcome of games, I am not bothered by this too much. But as a regular dude with a good heart who likes solid humans instead of the normal assholes you usually encounter, I am a little cry. As corny as Jim Zorn is, Zorny is a likeable guy. And shit, when Snyderratto had him over for a mansion sleepover where they played Madden all night to see how Zorny would coach up situations, and then offered him the head coaching job, why wouldn't he take it? I'm trying to talk myself into a neurobiological related job right now, so I can relate. Jump in, sink or swim, and cash checks while you find out. As for Jason Campbell, he is a genuinely nice guy, probably best suited for a Trent Dilfer type role as QB. If the Redskins had used the past two years to keep him chill in a smashmouth offense and ride the defense's coattails, maybe having kept Greggg Williams as head coach to ride out what Gibbs had built, maybe we'd actually be a wild card contending team. Or something.
As it stands, this team sucked, and looked to be doomed to a 2-14 or 3-13 year. But somehow, the planets aligned themselves the day before a November new moon, and they pulled off a win against the hapless Denver Broncos. ("Hapless" is a word fuckheads like myself use for teams that were awesome potentially but seem to be on a downward spiral but are not yet politically acceptable in a sports sense to completely mock as a tire fire of a team. I give the Broncos two more weeks to achieve that status, or a blowout loss against San Diego next week, whichever comes first.) And I will not lie, my bro-in-law bought us a giant 40-inch HDTV two weeks ago, and last weekend was youth soccer closing ceremonies on Sunday, so this was my first time to watch the Redskins in a newfound clarity. And they christened the situation with 27 points. 27 POINTS! We haven't scored that much in like two years, sadly enough. They looked like an actual offense for a couple of drives, with our piecemeal offensive line putting it together for Ladell Betts to smash his way forward five or six yards at a time. And even though the defense initially looked like they started Sean Taylor in the first quarter even though he was dead again, they got their shit together good enough to make Chris Simms look a lot like Chris Simms. I was happier than fuck. I would run into the kitchen during commercials to stir the crockpot full of venison, potatoes, carrots, and turnip roots, and jig walk like Gorgeous Jimmy Garvin back into the living room to see if they could maybe pull it off. And they did, which gives me hope that they can do it to Dallas too. An old guy coming out the hardware store today was wearing a Redskins hat and I chatted him up and we both laughed at the Cowboys and were excited for a minute in the indian summer Monday sunshine, feeling a hope that we hadn't felt in a long ass minute.
But let's not fool ourselves, this team is doomed. But to maybe have Zorny and Campbell unite, as well as other overlooked guys like Ladell Betts and Reed Doughty, to stick it up Dan Snyder's ass with some essentially meaningless wins, since he's gonna do something drastic, like always, in the offseason, it's great. It also screws him out of his higher draft pick next year, where he can waste it on Heath Shuler 2010, whoever that may be come next April.
My hatred for Dan Snyder has been sweltering hot the past few weeks while I've been gone from this blog. Honestly, my life is crash mode, with two years of financial struggle starting to fall apart around me, to the point I sometimes envision swallowing a bottle full of hydrocodone pills, putting on my favorite Hawkwind album, and drifting off to eternity. Of course, I would never do this (though I might take one or two hydrocodone, put on my favorite Hawkwind album, and drift off for the evening), but all I've wanted is for the Redskins to maybe give me a few hours away from my worries, a few hours of quality football to pretend the rest of my fucking shit ass world is not so shit ass. But nothing.
Then, during the off week, in something that didn't look staged even slightly, Dan Snyder holds a press conference in northern Virginia to announce how he's helping local high schools with tight budgets fix up their football fields. And while everybody's standing around, he makes a rare in-season statement to the press about how embarrassed he is by this season, and apologizes to the fans. Whatever, shitsoul. Why couldn't you do that somewhere other than a staged charitable photo-op? Weren't there any starving immigrant kids in D.C. you could've gave turkeys to to make this statement?
Anyways, people are delusional, and certain unnamed Redskins players in the local paper have talked about making an amazing run to 10-6. That is impossible. But my main man London Fletcher put it best when he said (roughly... I'm working from memory), that this game was like Joe Gibbs football, punch them in the fucking face and see what happens. Football as boxing match and not this tinkerbell pseudo-west coast offense.
The rest of the season is a tough draw for the Redskins, nothing like those first six weeks where no one had even won a game. But with the next two weeks on the road in Dallas and Philadelphia, the lame ducks in D.C. could salvage some personal respect, and stick it to the shithead whose signature signs their paychecks all at the same time. It fills my heart with a hope to enjoy football, even in slight slivers of actual game time, beyond the beginning of December, which was not something I thought possible a couple of weeks ago.

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