Quite a bit, actually. I’ve been waiting for a while now for Dan Snyder to decide to be on the right side of history and change the Washington Redskins’ name. I think I was a young adult before I realized the name is offensive, and since then, I haven’t felt like donning the burgundy and gold, especially if it has the mascot on it. To be completely honest, though, they haven’t been good in years, so hiding my team spirit under a bushel has not been a huge sacrifice.
I grew up cheering for the ‘Skins with my dad. We’d settle in front of the TV on a Sunday afternoon, dipping Fritos in “cheese” from a can, while my dad drank Miller Lite, or Lowenbrau if he felt like splurging. My best friend was a Cowboys fan, and the victorious fan would always call the less fortunate to gloat after a game when our teams played, followed by a Monday morning strut into our sixth grade class. I’ll never forget when the Redskins won Superbowl XVII in 1983. I opened our front door and whooped and hollered to the neighborhood. I have Joe Jacoby’s autograph from that same year when he visited our elementary school.
For the years between high school and young adulthood, I didn’t pay much attention to sports, but as I’ve grown older, I have found my way back to the Caps, and I was positively thrilled to switch my allegiance from the Orioles to the Nats when DC finally got its own team for the first time in 45 years…however, my sports fan identity is incomplete. I have never and will never give my heart to another football team, so I will continue to practice abstinence in this department until I can proudly support the Washington Redtails? Warriors? I’ll be the first in line to buy a hoodie when the switch comes, and I will have my Fritos and cheese dip ready.
My Corner of the Village 