Football Uber Alles

Football overshadows absolutely everything in sports crazed America. A friend traveling on business to Dallas from Washington, D.C. remarked at all of the stars carved in to the highway overpass support columns around the city, thinking Dallasites were way over-enamored of the Dallas Cowboys. I had to explain to him that, firstly, Texas is the Lone Star State. The star on the helmet derives at least in part from this historical association. Then I looked around the other teams in the area and found a single star on the Dallas Desperados arena football team and, another single star on the chest of the bull in the FC Dallas logo and, square in between the shoulder blades, still another single star on the jerseys of the Dallas Mavericks. I began to wonder if the Lone Star State association was really at play here or if Jerry Jones had finagled his NFL team's presence in to the very fabric of the other area teams, a constant reminder of which team and sport still ruled on high over North Texas.

Pundits have been counting the Mavericks out since the first round of the playoffs, thinking Portland would pull the same kind of upset the Golden State Warriors did the year before. Or was that in 2007? (I really don't follow basketball.) When the Mavs advanced to meet the Lakers the funeral dirges for Dirk and company rang out from Manhattan to Mazatlan. Uppity Oklahoma thought they could outlast the aging Mavericks with youth but forgot the first lesson in southwestern cattle ranching...it's usually the old bull that beats the young buck; with brains.

Here comes the heat. It is sometimes hard to tell which phenomenon the signs around Dallas are referring to, the Summer heat or the Miami Heat when they say "Beat the Heat!" but the sentiment is the same. Both need to go away but the question in the back of my mind is who the rest of the country is rooting for. I read the Mike Wise column in the Washington Post who did a polite but effective job of questioning the mind and conviction of LeBron James. Mr. Wise was not exactly rooting for Dallas so much as he was simply perplexed at the fade-away game Mr. James has consistently turned in during the 4th quarter.

Wise was at Game 5 in Dallas last Thursday, a beat writer for the Washington Post, home rag of some of the most ardent football fans in the nation, the ever-loyal, perennially disappointed Redskins Faithful. No fan base in the country despises the Cowboys and essentially everything else about Dallas like fans of the Redskins. But this is basketball and one of their most respected writers is in town covering the remarkable hiding the Mavericks have taken to every opponent thus far, Miami included. Could they, gasp, actually be rooting for a Dallas team?

It might be as simple a question as whether or not they hate the Heat more. LeBron abandoned Cleveland, which garnered negative press around the country. The Wizards and Heat are in the same division with Washington finishing last (hmmm..familiar) but I'm not sure if the two teams have much in the way of a rivalry; the Orlando Magic is in that group. Even if they did, could a Redskin fan in the Fall find it in his heart to root for Dallas during the Summer?

Gotta go (Mavs).

The New Southeast

It was time to go and visit the family again in the Washington/Baltimore part of the country. I had pledged that I would try and return home more frequently outside of the Christmas holidays as my niece and nephews were growing rapidly. Being from a large family there is rarely time to visit everyone I'd like while in the area but there is also the desire to be a simple tourist while in the nation's capital as well. Even for those who have lived in the area and moved away such as myself it is always good to stroll along the Mall or find some new part of town to discover, particularly if recent redevelopment has altered the area from what it once was.

Southeast DC is synonymous with the most dangerous quadrant of the city and a well earned reputation it was until now. Long associated with such no-go areas as Anacostia and Minnesota Avenue, everyone in Washington will tell you that the south end of the Green Line is for locals only. At the same time, The Southeast was infamous for having some of the best warehouse dance clubs in town including such venues as Nation and Tracks where it was all about the party and not always so much about the gender! The yuppies looking for a thrill, the gay underground and the urban all came together at one of these two haunts and usually one and all came away alive and in one piece.

All of that is gone now in the area along South Capitol Street. Though Anacostia is still just across the river along with the five other stations at the end of the Green Line the gentrification of Southeast DC has definitely begun. Washingtonians are quite accustomed to taking the Metro to the stadium to root for their favorite team only now instead of the Redskins at RFK it is the Nationals baseball team at Nationals Park, served by the Navy Yard Metro Station. Where once there were clubs even lower on the scale than Nation and Tracks there is a shining temple to America's favorite pastime. Where there were decaying factories, slums, taxi garages and rib shacks there are gleaming condominium towers and new shops along M Street SE and even a Five Guys outlet hardly a block from the new Department of Transportation facility.

The ballpark is not quite on the water in similar fashion to AT&T Park in San Francisco but there is a marina not too far away for those so inclined. With professional employers like the DOT in the area the Southeast is certainly being provided with every opportunity to improve beyond the facelift of a sports stadium and a few overpriced condos. It has every chance of coming, finally, in to its own if not necessarily rivaling Georgetown for cache and appeal. I truly enjoyed my couple of hours in the area.

Yes, only a couple of hours. There was a game on that afternoon but I didn't have tickets and I needed to get back north to my family in the Maryland suburbs. Plus, the Southeast is still a work in progress; like any other inner urban area there remain pockets where the lost are not often found again. The city is off to a good start but where the area once was no-go unless you're brave it has at least transformed in to an area where you and your family can travel safely but go with a purpose and leave with the rest of the crowd.

Gotta go.

The Loser's Rejoinder

The Cowboys have been thumping the Redskins in some way or other since before their first season in the league. In 1959 Dallas bought the rights to “Hail to the Redskins” as a trump card over Redskins owner George Marshall to get him to vote the new franchise in to existence. All of the other numbers regularly trotted out in friendly and heated debate in the break rooms, tailgate lots and internet chat sites are legend so there is no need in repeating them here. In my opinion it is the catalyst reason behind this great rivalry that needs a bit more examination.

Legendary Coach George Allen came to Washington from San Diego to revive a moribund franchise and immediately set about installing a pervasive and raw hatred for the Cowboys in what I believe is the most damaging fashion of all – The Inferiority Complex. Coach Allen routinely motivated his players by serving up the schoolyard chestnut “They think they’re better than you!” and tossing off such sniffers as “They don’t want to get their precious white uniforms dirty,” or “They don’t play gritty, smash mouth football like we do!”

That kind of pep talk goes a long way in stirring up single-minded passions but it goes so much farther. If something is repeated often enough even though it is an untruth then it becomes the truth to the believer. In this case, the perception of “they THINK they are better” becomes the reality – “they ARE better.” Anywhere today on the streets of Washington , D.C. and Northern Virginia the sense of inferiority comes up at some point in the conversation. Sports journalists in the Washington area routinely decry the “overrated” Dallas Cowboys as a way to shore up confidence in the classic “drag them down to lift us up” strategy.

Ingrained in the hearts and minds of millions of Redkins faithful is the unshakeable, fundamental angst-ridden hatred that says no matter how many times the Redkins actually do beat the Cowboys, win the division, advance in the playoffs or even go to the Superbowl, the Redskins will simply never measure up. The George Allen Inferiority Complex lives on, perpetuating the idea that Dallas is still and will always be the better team.

So here is Coach Allen feeding second class citizen mind games to his own team and, of course, Dallas fans are going right along with it. “Hey, your own coach says you guys aren’t good enough! We won’t argue with him!” The absolute proof came the year after Cowboys beat the Dolphins in Superbowl VI by a score of 24-3 for their first Lombardi Trophy. With “We Want Dallas!” at fever pitch, the Redskins defeated the Cowboys in the next NFC Championship game and went on to face those same Dolphins in the Superbowl.

No one will ever know if the Cowboys might have gone to their third Superbowl in a row and beat Miami again. The Redskins lost and the Perfect Season of 1972 was born. If grudgingly, Dallas will respect a team that talks the talk and walks the walk. Washington spoiled Dallas ’ party then came up empty when it really mattered, 32 years before Philadelphia would go belly up against the Patriots. Hey, nice going!

At a family gathering this Summer an Eagles cousin and a Redskins cousin ganged up on me in a friendly yet still winner-take-all round of trash talking and chest beating. Said the Eagles cousin:

“When was the last time you went to a Superbowl?”
“Four years after him,” I answered calmly, pointing to the Redskins cousin. “And when was the last time you won one?”

Said the Redskins cousin:

“Oh yea," using the classic Loser's Rejoinder, "Well ... when was the last time you won a playoff game?”

“Last year, off of him!”

Gotta go.

They Were Soldiers

It is over 700 miles from Japan and yet is still today considered a part of Tokyo. Surrounded by the deep Pacific Ocean, from the air it looks like a bone-in pork chop with one of the vertebrae still in at the southern end. That round vertebra is Mt. Suribachi, the extinct volcano that came to symbolize the ultimate sacrifice of thousands of men and women during the island hopping campaign of the Second World War. It was only the fourth day of the fighting in February of 1945 that one of the most iconic photographs of all time was taken, capturing a signature moment pride and entirely by accident.

There had already been one flag raising on the island much to the outrage of the 22,000 Japanese soldiers garrisoned to defend the island and support the airbases there protecting the southern air approaches to Japan. As with all things related to politics and propaganda the first raising was staged and the flag was smaller although certainly no less patriotic. To the men who were there it remains the only raising that really counts.

The second was to raise a larger flag to give to a government bureaucrat observing from the beaches that day so six guys at random were tapped to do the honors. A photographer named Joe Rosenthal who happened to be nearby turned around at the last possible second, saw what was happening and captured the image that almost literally saved the war in the Pacific. By then Americans were grown weary of death and telegrams and war budgets were getting precariously low. Washington brought three of the flag raisers home for a war bond tour - the other three were killed on the island - boosting morale and the national coffers to see the fighting through to the end later that year.

Nine years later the United States Marine Corps War Memorial, more popularly known as the Iwo Jima Memorial, was dedicated outside of Washington, D.C. on a hill in Rosslyn, Virginia overlooking capital city. It is a particular favorite place of mine to go and relax, reflect, enjoy the views of the city and consider all things unique to this monument in the annals of American and world history. I simply love being there and took Mom this time as part of a visit to Arlington National Cemetery to pay our respects to Senator Ted Kennedy.

As we walked around the memorial several busloads of tourists arrived shortly after we did. These were not just any tourists. These were actual veterans of World War II, some from the Pacific Theater, and all participating in Honor Flight. This volunteer network is across the country and serves to honor and serve those who served our nation by taking them on tours to the capital to see how their efforts have been acknowledged through the various artworks around the city. Some in their nineties, some in wheelchairs, one guy from Tennessee as chatty as you please and all quite happy to be out and about on a glorious day in D.C. Mom made sure to thank as many as she could personally before they loaded up on the bus and we headed over to see Teddy. He's on the left in the picture below, Bobby on the right.

The country and the world have come a long way from that brutal and blustery day in 1945. For me it is always good to remember and for the veterans who just happened to be there it simply became priceless. No longer merely statues, names etched in marble or photos from other events; each and every one of them for the first time in my life were alive that day. They were soldiers.

Gotta go.

Washington W(h)ine

FedEx Field on the east side of the Capital Beltway replaced old RFK Stadium in 1997 as the home of the Washington Redskins. The red, white, green and purple exterior doesn’t do it any favors, though, making the whole thing look like an upside down circus tent completely unrelated to the burgundy and gold of the home team until you get inside. It is nonetheless an impressive building of over 91,000 seats and that is coming from me, a die-hard fan of the Dallas Cowboys.

I used to live in the Washington, DC area and, you can imagine, long enjoyed being able to wear my team colors safely on the streets thanks to Dallas routinely thumping Washington, at one point running up a winning streak of ten games in a row. In those years one could attend a “home” game of the Washington Redskins and see nearly a third of the stands sporting silver and blue. Three times so far I have been to Fed Ex for regular season games with each one very enjoyable despite my being on the receiving end of some memorable mishaps and good-natured guff from the Redskins faithful.

Saturday, December 24, 2005 was the last game of the season at FedEx and I had managed to score a pair of tickets for myself and a Redskins idolizing co-worker to see the Redskins host the New York Giants. I went low-key that day with a favorite sweater that had a small Cowboys star over the left chest and with good reason. Upon taking our seats in the upper stands, two Redskins fans in front of us noticed my sweater and it was on.

“Whatchoo doin’ here, man? This ain’t yo’ game,” said the one.
“Oh, I know why he here,” said the other. “He still in shock over that butt-kicking (NOT what they said) from las’ week!”
“Hee hee! Yea, man, he still sitting there with that deer-in-da-headlights look on his face!”

See, the Cowboys had come to town the week before and been thoroughly pasted 35-7, scoring their one touchdown towards the end of the game in “garbage time.” The Redskins were in the middle of a Herculean effort to make the play-offs and that Saturday went on to defeat the Giants 35-20, ending the season on a five-game win streak for a 10-6 record and a wild card berth. For me it was nice to just sit back and enjoy the atmosphere since my team was out of contention and I was no longer emotionally invested. We had a ball.

The fifth week of the 2007 season saw me back in the stands at Fed Ex, this time fully decked out in my Cowboys team jersey. As I emerged from the bleacher tunnel in to daylight of the upper stands I was immediately greeted with a resounding chorus of boos; this for a game between Washington and Detroit.

“Whatchoo doing here? This ain’t your house! This ain’t even your game!” I just held up four fingers to signal the Cowboys record of 4-0 at that point and they all settled back in to their seats grousing good-naturedly. The Redskins put on a clinic that day, whipping the Lions 34-3. To add to the excitement in my part of the stadium two other Cowboys fans, also in team jerseys, were ejected for fighting in the neighboring section of seats – as if! One of the fans behind me just couldn’t resist this golden opportunity.

“Hey officer,” he shouted, putting his arm around my shoulders and pointing down at my head from above. “Come git this’un over here, too!” The crowd roared.

I went back to FedEx Field for the final game of that season on December 30th against Dallas. The Cowboys had nothing to lose since they had already won the division and home field advantage. Out of contention and also with nothing to lose didn’t stop the Redskins Nation from itching for a fight. They dismembered a totally disinterested Dallas team 27-6.

I enjoyed finally being at a game for one of the greatest rivalries in football despite the omen of the outcome and the ignominious end of the Dallas season a few weeks later. Before the game I was tailgating with friends and stood too close to the space heater which promptly burned a hole in my jeans and melted part of my ding-dang jersey!

Not to worry, we meet again this Sunday, opening weekend, in Washington. Joy! Because despite all the other leads Dallas holds over Washington, 59-39-2 in the series, 4-0 in shutouts or 5-3 in Superbowls, the sweetest one for me is this: Since it opened my Cowboys still have more match wins at FedEx Field (8-5) than the Redskins do!

Whenever we get together I just jangle my house keys in front of my seething Redskin loving buddy!

Gotta go.