Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Hail to the Redskins!
Though some of my friends deride my belief in my team, I have generally possessed acceptable expectations of what they might acheive. Only once in the last six years have I believed that we had a plus .500 team, that was in 2000, and well... I would rather not get into how that team performed. But I have always firmly adhered to the belief that it takes about three years for a coach to successfully implement their system. Unfortunately, we've not had the same coach for three years in quite some time. Year two is supposed to be a building block and maybe, if a few breaks go your way, a playoff year if you have the right talent.
And for the longest time it has appeared that the Skins have had all the talent except at the quarterback position.
As I discussed with a lot of my friends and family this week, I had a more optimistic view of things after Brunell replaced Ramsey. Is Brunell the same quarterback he was when he took the Jags to two AFC championship games? No. I don't expect that of him at 35. Does he still posses enough talent to take a team to the playoffs? Yes.
When my more cycnical conversation partners asked what it was I thought made Brunell more serviceable than Ramsey I offered them the following: brains and legs. My brother made an offhand comment while we talked on his birthday about how Brunell's arm might fall off he was so old. After kindly reminding him that he was actually older than Brunell, I also offered that while it wasn't great, I didn't think his arm was that bad, either.
Ramsey has the undeniably stronger arm. But one year taking blitzes in Spurrier's offensive scheme broke him. Absolutely, unavoidably ruined him as a quarterback. I hope I'm wrong and that next year when he isn't with the Skins, he'll find a team and be successful (in the AFC). But Brunell can do two things that Ramsey can't: he can run himself out of trouble and he can make the smart decision. Ramsey always seemed panicked in the pocket and more often than not was launching an ill-advised pass that somehow ended up in a defender's hands instead of out of bounds.
Last night I saw something promising. I sat through fifty six minutes of misery. Fifty six minutes of sitting next to Cowboys fans and their celebrating and their taunting and their glee. Fifty six minutes of Skins' offensive penalty after penalty. Fifty six minutes of the Cowboys punter defying sheer physics and statistical probability by pinning the Skins deep inside the 10 yard line again and again and again. Fifty six minutes of horrible football that somehow the Redskins didn't let turn into a rout. And then it happened.
3rd and 27. The blitz is on and Brunell takes off for his life... running improbably for 10... 15... 25 yards.
4th and 2. Brunell drops back, lofts a soft pass to Thrash and it's a 20 yard 1st down.
4th and 15. Brunell drops back again, and suddenly rips a pass down the middle... I stand up in the middle of the bar and quietly whisper, "please God," and the ball falls between two defenders into Moss' hands and the Skins have scored.
I looked at my friends and told them that I was just satisfied that they could get the ball in the end zone. But with more than three minutes to go, and two timeouts, I held out some glimmer of hope that this incredible defense would hold once more and give the Skins a chance. And they did.
The Skins get the ball on their 30 yard line, 1st and ten. Brunell drops back to pass, and suddenly unleashes a bomb down the middle... I stand up in the middle of the bar and quietly whisper, "please God," and the ball threads between two Cowboy defenders into Moss' hands and he sprints into the end zone for a 70 yard touchdown. The Redskins have the lead.
A Bob Uecker-like call from Major League blares in my brain, "the Skins win it! the Skins win it! OH MY GOD, the Skins win it!!!"
But there's more than two minutes to go and I've seen this before. Patrick Crayton, Clint Longley... I've seen the Cowboys come away with enough improbable last second wins to think that this time will be no different. Hell, Dave Campo beat us, am I supposed to believe Bill Parcells can't cook up another flea flicker play to win?
And everytime it looked like the Cowboys had done it, fate intervened. A first down called back by a holding penalty. A pass just a yard shy of a first down until a missle called Sean Taylor blows up the receiver (forcing a fumble, despite what that referee may have believed) and an incomplete pass is called. A punt that stays in bounds and wastes 14 precious seconds off the Cowboys' dwindling chances. And a final perfect open field tackle, a yard shy of a first down, to end the game.
So this is what it feels like?
14-13 is a score with lore for me. But that's a story for another time. 14-13, I couldn't have dreamed it more perfectly.
Brunell saved it with some patience and some smarts, with his legs and with an arm that I may have been underestimating by the looks of it.
2-0. There's a lot of football left and 2-14 isn't out of the question.
After all those years of disappointment, Tom Boswell of the Post summed it up best I think.
There's something promising indeed. I endured fifty six minutes of a horrible attempt at sport to watch the Redskins play sixty minutes of football. I watched a team that refused to quit.
Hail to the Redskins.
Hail Victory.
And for the longest time it has appeared that the Skins have had all the talent except at the quarterback position.
As I discussed with a lot of my friends and family this week, I had a more optimistic view of things after Brunell replaced Ramsey. Is Brunell the same quarterback he was when he took the Jags to two AFC championship games? No. I don't expect that of him at 35. Does he still posses enough talent to take a team to the playoffs? Yes.
When my more cycnical conversation partners asked what it was I thought made Brunell more serviceable than Ramsey I offered them the following: brains and legs. My brother made an offhand comment while we talked on his birthday about how Brunell's arm might fall off he was so old. After kindly reminding him that he was actually older than Brunell, I also offered that while it wasn't great, I didn't think his arm was that bad, either.
Ramsey has the undeniably stronger arm. But one year taking blitzes in Spurrier's offensive scheme broke him. Absolutely, unavoidably ruined him as a quarterback. I hope I'm wrong and that next year when he isn't with the Skins, he'll find a team and be successful (in the AFC). But Brunell can do two things that Ramsey can't: he can run himself out of trouble and he can make the smart decision. Ramsey always seemed panicked in the pocket and more often than not was launching an ill-advised pass that somehow ended up in a defender's hands instead of out of bounds.
Last night I saw something promising. I sat through fifty six minutes of misery. Fifty six minutes of sitting next to Cowboys fans and their celebrating and their taunting and their glee. Fifty six minutes of Skins' offensive penalty after penalty. Fifty six minutes of the Cowboys punter defying sheer physics and statistical probability by pinning the Skins deep inside the 10 yard line again and again and again. Fifty six minutes of horrible football that somehow the Redskins didn't let turn into a rout. And then it happened.
3rd and 27. The blitz is on and Brunell takes off for his life... running improbably for 10... 15... 25 yards.
4th and 2. Brunell drops back, lofts a soft pass to Thrash and it's a 20 yard 1st down.
4th and 15. Brunell drops back again, and suddenly rips a pass down the middle... I stand up in the middle of the bar and quietly whisper, "please God," and the ball falls between two defenders into Moss' hands and the Skins have scored.
I looked at my friends and told them that I was just satisfied that they could get the ball in the end zone. But with more than three minutes to go, and two timeouts, I held out some glimmer of hope that this incredible defense would hold once more and give the Skins a chance. And they did.
The Skins get the ball on their 30 yard line, 1st and ten. Brunell drops back to pass, and suddenly unleashes a bomb down the middle... I stand up in the middle of the bar and quietly whisper, "please God," and the ball threads between two Cowboy defenders into Moss' hands and he sprints into the end zone for a 70 yard touchdown. The Redskins have the lead.
A Bob Uecker-like call from Major League blares in my brain, "the Skins win it! the Skins win it! OH MY GOD, the Skins win it!!!"
But there's more than two minutes to go and I've seen this before. Patrick Crayton, Clint Longley... I've seen the Cowboys come away with enough improbable last second wins to think that this time will be no different. Hell, Dave Campo beat us, am I supposed to believe Bill Parcells can't cook up another flea flicker play to win?
And everytime it looked like the Cowboys had done it, fate intervened. A first down called back by a holding penalty. A pass just a yard shy of a first down until a missle called Sean Taylor blows up the receiver (forcing a fumble, despite what that referee may have believed) and an incomplete pass is called. A punt that stays in bounds and wastes 14 precious seconds off the Cowboys' dwindling chances. And a final perfect open field tackle, a yard shy of a first down, to end the game.
So this is what it feels like?
14-13 is a score with lore for me. But that's a story for another time. 14-13, I couldn't have dreamed it more perfectly.
Brunell saved it with some patience and some smarts, with his legs and with an arm that I may have been underestimating by the looks of it.
2-0. There's a lot of football left and 2-14 isn't out of the question.
After all those years of disappointment, Tom Boswell of the Post summed it up best I think.
"At game's end, Gibbs's face was beaming with joy, a sight seldom seen for
regular season games in his Hall of Fame heyday. Parcells seemed blanched as he
walked toward midfield, while Cowboys owner Jerry Jones wandered around the
field as if lost. Why, this was the night the Cowboys had devoted halftime to
inducting Troy Aikman, Michael Irvin and Emmitt Smith into their sacred Ring of
Honor. How dare the Redskins spoil it?
Heh, heh."
There's something promising indeed. I endured fifty six minutes of a horrible attempt at sport to watch the Redskins play sixty minutes of football. I watched a team that refused to quit.
Hail to the Redskins.
Hail Victory.
