‘The Blind Side’

“The Blind Side” is a wonderful film, but don’t be fooled by the trailers—it’s not a football movie. The game may be a major part of the plot, but this isn’t “Remember the Titans” (thank goodness).

“The Blind Side” is the story of a Southern, Christian, Republican (gasp!) wife and mother of two who takes in a foster kid and gives him a chance for a better life. Notice I didn’t just say “gives him a better life,” because young Michael Oher (played with expressive understatement by Quinton Aaron) has to earn his success through plain ol’ hard work, both in the classroom and on the football field.

While writer/director John Lee Hancock occasionally allows the film to dip in a little cheese, for the most part this is barebones moviemaking—it doesn’t have the glowing sheen of the aforementioned “Titans” or so many other “heartwarming” tales. The football scenes are possibly the closest “The Blind Side” comes to gag-worthy, but making movies out of dramatic sporting events has never been easy, so I give “Blind Side” a pass for accomplishing them adequately. Besides, they only take up, I’d guess, 15 minutes of the entire film. One thing I like about this movie, though, is how it shines a spotlight on the unglamorous position of offensive lineman, which any Redskins fan can tell you is one of the most important positions on the field.

The rest of the film is all about character and family. Sandra Bullock is outstanding as the other lead role, Leigh Anne Tuohy, a fireball who knows what she wants and is not afraid to put herself on the line to get it. She’s portrayed warmly, to be sure, but not without depth; while rock solid in her determination to help Michael, we get glimpses behind her tough exterior to see the doubts and concerns she has about taking such a risk and the implications for her family. The trailers make Bullock seem like a scenery chewer, but there’s much more to what is probably the performance of her career (though, to be fair, I haven’t seen all her movies).

We’ve heard countless success stories about the Michael Ohers of the world before, but rarely has Hollywood given us such an honest and sympathetic look at the people who help those stories come true. I guess some might complain Tuohy seems too good to be true. To them I say: I’m sorry for you. Because people like the Leigh Anne Tuohy portrayed in “The Blind Side” really do exist. I’m fortunate enough to know and love one, and she and her husband quite literally changed the course of my life, not for anything I ever did for them, but just simply out of their boundless love for others. It’s so refreshing to see someone like Tuohy get a starring role in a well-made movie.

“The Blind Side” isn’t exceptional filmmaking, per se, but the movie is exceptional in its portrayal of people who live their lives according to conservative principles. When was the last time you saw a white, Southern, married, Christian couple who belong to the NRA as anything but the butt of a joke on “Saturday Night Live”? More where this came from, please.

Grade: B+

His Airness?

I had mixed emotions tonight watching Michael Jordan's induction into the basketball hall of fame.

I loved—LOVED—Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls when I was a kid. I mean, devotion like I've given few things in my life. It was Michael Jordan who first turned me on to basketball, who first got me seriously interested in sports (even more so than the Redskins, if you can believe that). I was just 9 years old, as far as I can recall, and had no reason to root for him other than he was greatness personified (and, I'm proud to say, my fandom began before he started winning championships—I suffered through those Pistons playoff series). With his induction, I'm sure you can go any number of places on the Internet and find gushing praise of his prowess, so I'll spare you here.

In the years since his retirement (from the Wizards, you may recall, not the Bulls—the coda to his career conveniently forgotten by the video montage tonight), my devotion to Jordan hasn't just waned, it's all but disappeared. Now the stories about his ruthlessness—as both an opponent and a teammate—I ignored as a child strike a different chord. The sordid details of his messy divorce hold greater meaning than the championship trophies.

But seeing those highlights, I was swept up all over again in those beaming childhood memories. He was amazing, wasn't he? I've seen those clips literally hundreds of times—many of them I witnessed live (on TV, of course). They still give me goosebumps.

Those are fantasy. Michael Jordan the Reality was in full view tonight during his acceptance speech. A man obsessed with competition—winning, more specifically. As the glow of his athletic accomplishments fades from present day into history, the unsavory aspects of Jordan's personality shine brighter, and the glare is harsh.

I don't know Michael Jordan personally. Maybe he was just nervous. But he came off like a jerk tonight. A bitter former shorts-clad god who still holds grudges. He aired old grievances (here's lookin' at you, Jerry Krause), ripped former opponents (hello, Bryon Russell), and ridiculed ex-teammates in justifying a lifetime spent destroying every obstacle in his path. I would not want to be Michael Jordan's friend. I wonder how many he really has. He only mentioned a few, and only in passing (Scottie Pippen, Dean Smith, Phil Jackson—sorry, Charles, even though you're sitting right down front, no shout out from MJ).

He did make me laugh a few times. Of course he did. Jordan didn't become a global icon just because he could play ball—he's a charmer. But he's not nearly as personable anymore away from the dazzling dunks and game-winning shots.

So, in the end, tonight's induction of the greatest basketball player of my lifetime left me pondering a question I don't know if I'll ever be able to answer: How do you make the most out of what God gives you and still make room for God in your life? Whether he knows it or not, Michael Jordan was a blessed man. And he took what God gave him and made the absolute most of it—perhaps more than any other basketball player who's ever lived. Because as amazing as Jordan was physically, he may have been even more impressive mentally; his devotion to his craft was unparalleled, and that's what made him great. That's what he talked about tonight—the "competitive fire."

But at what point does making the most of what God's given you become contrary to His divine purpose for your life? How do you find the line between wasting your God-given abilities and allowing them to become your god? Did Michael Jordan's six championship titles cost him too much? Should I be doing more with my life than sitting here on a Friday night tapping away at a keyboard?

I have no idea.

But I do know Michael Jordan did not come across as His Airness tonight, the man who inspired millions and millions of kids just like me by floating high above the hardwood. Never has he seemed more stuck in the ground—a bitter middle-aged man looking for something, anything to fill his life the way basketball used to. It was a sad thing to watch, really.

So I guess he's inspired me again. In 16 years, when I reach his current age, I don't want to be like Mike.

Class: Defined

Is it any wonder I love Art Monk?

I didn't think I could be a bigger fan of this man before this day, but his humble, classy, heartfelt, sincere, and downright bold Hall of Fame induction speech reminded me why I looked up to him as a kid, why his was the only jersey I ever wanted (which I wore today and will continue to wear every Sunday all season), why I cheered for him and rooted for his success, and why he was one of the first pop culture figures of my youth who, through his example, showed me being a Christian was OK.

Ever since he retired I had planned on going to the induction ceremony, but the details just didn't work out. I sure wish I could have been a part of that four-minute ovation, though. It was emotional just watching it on TV. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy—and, unfortunately, it rarely does. His speech made me wish I was friends with Art Monk the man, not the football player. It was simply tremendous, and like so many Redskins fans, for the last—and, perhaps, greatest—time, I am proud to call myself one of his admirers.

The long wait was definitely worth it.


Oh, and Darrell, you were great, too.

The Art of Monk

Former Washington Redskins wide receiver Art Monk—who just happens to be my favorite football player of all time—is once again on the ballot for this year's Pro Football Hall of Fame class. Instead of going into my long rant about why he should ALREADY be in, I'll defer to this guy, whose 20-minute video montage of Monk's career is everything and anything that needs be said.
See, this is why I can't throw out all my Redskins stuff.

Everybody Sees It But Them: The Sickness of Joe Gibbs and Mark Brunell

Politicians often issue announcements they’d like to hide “out with the trash,” releasing information late in a news cycle so it won’t make the weekday morning papers.
Congratulations, Joe Gibbs: You’ve now sunk to the level of a politician.
On Monday, Washington Redskins Quarterback Mark Brunell had major shoulder surgery on his THROWING ARM. The surgery took place, of course, after Gibbs finished his slate of year-end pressers so no one will have access to him for comment on the situation.
The ramifications of this news are stunning, depressing, and far-reaching. If I hadn’t invested more than two decades of emotion and fandom in this now-pathetic franchise, I would throw out every scrap of Redskin memorabilia I own. Today.
Even a half-blind man like me could see Brunell couldn’t throw the ball from here to there this season. If I could see it, my wife could see it, my brothers could see it, my parents could see it, the moron twins on SportsTalk 980 could see it, then it stands to reason every single defensive coordinator in the NFL could see it, too. Thus opposing defenses packed the line of scrimmage against the Redskins, knowing Brunell couldn't threaten them deep—whether the play was a run or another awful short pass, either way it was going to be right in front of all 11 defenders—and promptly stopped.
Some morons in Washington wonder if backup Ladell Betts should be the starting running back next season over Clinton Portis. Well, is it any wonder Betts' monster rushing attack began at the same time Brunell was benched and second-year QB Jason Campbell—who possesses a laser-rocket arm, as Peyton Manning would say—was moved into the lineup? As soon as defenders had to start worrying about passes traveling more than 10 yards through the air—what a shock!—the Skins' excellent offensive line was able to open up some running lanes again. If Betts gained 1,000 yards this season, a healthy Portis would have run for 1,600-plus with Campbell as a backfield mate. Perhaps the Skins could have won more than five games and actually made the playoffs in the pathetic NFC.
What makes me the most sick, though, is Gibbs' loyalty-to-a-fault for Brunell. With this news about Brunell’s obvious season-long injury, it's become a full-on sickness between these two guys. And what's worse, they're both Christians! Brunell should have had the moral integrity to bench himself if he was so hurt he was hampering the team, and Gibbs should have had the moral integrity to own up to his mistake.
Instead, Gibbs subtly passed the blame off on to new offensive coordinator Al Saunders, claiming the team got away from "Redskins football," meaning power running. Well what, exactly, was Saunders supposed to do with Brunell as his dilapidated triggerman? Saunders' offense relies on a QB willing to take hits and deliver the ball deep; Brunell can do neither. So Saunders had to start coming up with what Rick "Doc" Walker dubbed the "poodle offense" to try and cover for Brunell's obvious liabilities. By the end of the year, with a real QB in Campbell under center, the offense was clicking pretty well—both running and passing.
So however you look at it, Brunell and Gibbs cost the Redskins multiple victories for reasons unknown and inexplicable to anyone other than those two men. Their relationship has been an albatross around the team's neck for the past three seasons. From the very beginning of this second tenure in Washington, Gibbs hasn't felt like the same person this city has worshipped for nearly three decades. His first move was bringing in Brunell, and he's been covering up for that horrendous mistake ever since due to what I can only assume is abject vanity. In the same offseason, he then traded away Champ Bailey (the best cover-corner in the league) and a second-round pick for Portis; I love Lil' Clinton, but the team could obviously use Bailey right now more than Portis.
Gibbs has spent the past three seasons defending these awful moves, all the while championing second-rate players. He’s acted like Grandpa Joe, the kindly old guy who never says a bad word about anybody and just wants everybody to love him. Well, that doesn't cut it "up here," as Gibbs is fond of saying.
My only hope is this: When the reality of the worst season in Gibbs’ career finally settles in over the next weeks and months, perhaps that will reawaken the hard-nosed man of integrity I knew from my childhood. Perhaps he’s finally through worrying about expectations so he can finally get back to fulfilling them.
If so, Gibbs is off to a very, very bad start. This latest Brunell indignity foisted upon Redskins fans was an inexcusable act of cowardice perpetrated by a coach previously thought incapable of such a thing.

Bittersweet Revenge

Amidst all of Sunday night’s Redskins euphoria (and it was euphoric—I'm still stunned) a lot of people in this city probably missed two of its most beloved athletic stars sticking it in the eye of the hometown pro basketball team.
University of Maryland legends and current Portland Trail Blazers Juan Dixon and Steve Blake combined for 34 points to down their former team, the Washington Wizards, in front of a barely-there crowd in Oregon late Sunday night. It was sweet justice for Juan and Stevie, who were unceremoniously dumped by the Wizards in the offseason after giving nothing but their all for three and two years, respectively.
Wizards coach Eddie Jordan and GM Ernie Grunfeld—it was explained to us, the stupid fans—wanted more size in the backcourt. Dixon and Blake are just too small to fit in here, you see. So the Wizards went out and got two journeymen guards, Antonio Daniels and Chucky Atkins. Never heard of either ’em? I didn’t think so. Because they’re no different than a million other guys who have wandered through the NBA.
Juan and Steve, on the other hand, are hometown heroes who still receive standing ovations in D.C., even though they now play for the opposing team. Daniels and Atkins are two veterans that have done absolutely nothing in this league of any distinction, other than managing to stay in it.
Dixon and Blake were never given a fair shot by Jordan, who, apparently, is the first coach in the history of this duo’s combined careers not to absolutely love these guys. Juan received irregular minutes at best in his tenure with the Wizards, and Blake was lucky if he saw the floor once a week. I’m convinced it was all about ego for Jordan—he wasn’t about to let the fans tell him how to coach his team, and he got rid of the heroes wouldn’t have to hear the “We want Juan!” chants anymore.
So how’s that working out for you, Coach?
Playing without three starters, Portland nevertheless dismissed the Wizards Sunday night, led by the former Maryland duo playing together once again in the backcourt down the stretch. Washington’s Gilbert Arenas hit a three-pointer to cut it to one with a couple minutes to go, but Dixon and Blake combined to run off seven points in a row and put the game on ice, dropping the Wizards to a pathetic four games under .500.
If the Wizards don’t make the playoffs this year, Eddie Jordan should be fired. He’s been a mediocre coach that has stuck around because expectations were so low, making the second round of the playoffs last season was the equivalent of winning the NBA championship around here.
But Jordan has made as many mistakes with this team in his three and a quarter seasons as he has made good decisions. No one can figure out his rotation (Juan said as much this season), and he runs his stars into the ground (Arenas is continually ranked among the top minutes played in the league). He and Grunfeld essentially blew up a backcourt that last season was arguably the best in the league. I was never a big Larry Hughes fan, but the team undoubtedly misses him this season. And the Wizards certainly miss Dixon’s instant offense off the bench, as neither Atkins nor Daniels have shown any propensity that they can score and hit outside shots with any consistency (Daniels is hardly even playing nowadays).
Guys like Juan Dixon and Steve Blake—who make up for the lack of natural ability with heart, smarts, and passion—don’t come along nearly as often as faceless roster-fillers like Daniels and Atkins (heck, Dixon is outscoring the latter duo all by himself this year). The Maryland stars made coming to Wizards games worthwhile; last time I checked, professional sports teams do need fans every now and then to pay their salaries—it’s not like MCI is selling out every night.
But even more than all that, Jordan said cutting Dixon and Blake was all about winning. Well, what have you done for me lately, Coach? I thought the Wizards were supposed to be better this year after making the playoffs for the first time in two decades. Dixon singlehandedly won three or four games for Washington last season—including a clutch performance in the PLAYOFFS against Chicago—but for some reason that didn’t matter to Jordan. His ego is too big for his size and his success.
At first I questioned why Dixon and Blake went to a rotten organization like Portland. But new coach Nate McMillan has a mind to turn that whole team around, jettisoning the chaff (like, I assume, Darius Miles), and moving forward in a new, positive direction. If that is the case, he knew exactly what he was doing by bringing in Juan and Stevie. They’re not good enough to make up a starting backcourt in the NBA, but they’re two guys that every team in the league—teams with any sense, anyway—should want. All they wanted was a genuine chance to show what they could do.
No matter what the Wizards go on to accomplish this season and beyond, losing Dixon and Blake will always be an open wound. And it should be. The Wizards got exactly what they deserved tonight.

Can a Loss Really be as Good as a Win?

Now that the pain of Washington’s heartbreaking two-point loss on the road against the Denver Broncos has faded a bit, the reality of the situation has set in: Ol’ Joe’s done it—the Redskins are a good football team again.
Yeah, it would’ve been nice if Mark Brunell had completed that two-point conversion pass to David Patten and sent yesterday’s game to overtime, but those things happen. The Redskins made too many mistakes throughout the course of the game and it finally caught up with them. Denver is a playoff-caliber team, and it should win at home (one of the toughest places in the league to play, by the way).
However, there are several positives for Redskins fans. For starters, the offense racked up nearly 450 yards against a rather stout defense. Brunell continues to look like he’s back from the dead, this time going for 300-plus and two touchdowns. Clinton Portis ran well against his former team with 103 yards on just 20 carries for a crisp five yards a tote. Also, except for two bonehead runs, the defense continued to play well despite more injuries in the secondary. (Please, can we put the LaVar Arrington talk to bed? Sure, I want him to play, but the “D” doesn’t seem to miss him that much. I’ll trust Gibbs and Gregg Williams over LaVar any day. When they feel he’s ready, then he’ll play. Until then, everyone, enough already—shut up.)
And, most importantly, Washington proved yet again that it is never out of a game—no matter how much time is left on the clock and how long the odds. If someone had told me a year ago that this season the Skins—with No. 8 under center—would be able to go 95 yards for a touchdown on their final drive and nearly pull even with the Broncos, I would have thought that person was crazy.
But after five weeks, get this: The Redskins are eighth in the league in offense and fifth in defense. … OK, now that you’ve picked yourself back up off the floor after that shocking realization, here’s another: There’s absolutely no reason the Washington Redskins shouldn’t make the playoffs.
Just look at the rest of the conference: The Redskins have already beaten the best team in the NFC West (Seattle); they’re certainly better than any of the four teams in the dreadful NFC North; they should be able to hold their own against either Carolina or Atlanta from the South; and, oh yeah, the Skins are still in first place in the East.
Brunell and Gibbs seem to get more and more comfortable with their surroundings week by week, and the improvements have shown on the field. There are several should-win games on their schedule, including San Francisco, Oakland, St. Louis and Arizona. If Washington simply goes .500 in the rest of its games, that gives the Redskins 11 wins this year. Hello, playoffs.
Sure, we’re only four games into the season and a lot can happen over the next three months. But after Washington’s first three “lucky” wins, everyone was still skeptical and wondering whether this team is for real or not.
Consider that question answered. Just ask the Broncos.

How 'Bout Them Cowboys!

As a Redskins fan, last night was a long, long, long time comin’.
I was 16 the last time Washington beat the Cowboys in Dallas. That’s literally a lifetime ago. Since 1995, I’ve gotten a driver’s license, graduated from high school, graduated from college, got married, and worked for three different publications in three different states.
That’s a long time to wait for one victory.
Last night’s 14-13 Redskin win over the hated, despicable, filthy, no good stinkin’ Cowgirls was nothing short of a miracle. I’m not deluded into believing it was anything other than divine intervention. And I’m OK with that, because miracles have been in short supply around here for, oh, the past decade.
For those who either couldn’t stay up late enough (or early enough, in most cases), or simply gave up hope, let me recap the game: The Redskins’ offense, led by 35-year-old Mark Brunell, was inept for the first 55 minutes of the game. The aforementioned No. 8 spent almost as much time on the ground under a pile of Cowboys as he did throwing the ball, and when he managed to get a pass off, it was most likely a five-yarder or an incompletion followed by a punt. Until late in the fourth quarter, Washington averaged less than four yards per play; that, ladies in gentlemen, is pathetic. Thankfully, the Redskins feature one of the best defenses in the league, which managed to give up a measly 13 points on the road in an overheated stadium full of revved-up rednecks in silver and blue (Cowboy legends Troy Aikman, Emmitt Smith and Michael Irvin were added to the “ring of fame” last night at Texas Stadium, making the night’s outcome all that much sweeter).
So when the Skins got the ball back (again) with about five minutes to play and down two scores, I said, “If they don’t score a touchdown on this drive, I’m turning it off and going to bed.” You have to understand I’m the type of ascetic fan that typically watches every last second of every last game, just in case.
Well, last night was one of those cases.
The drive started out in typical Redskin style, i.e. backward instead of forward. After he was thrown to the ground like a bag of dirt, Brunell faced third-and-27 from deep in his own territory, surely an untenable situation and prelude to a loss. As Brunell dropped back to pass, the receivers were covered (again), so he stepped through the pocket and began running—shuffling, really—down the field; he gave a limp-leg move and all of the sudden, the Redskins had fourth-and-short instead of fourth-and-a-mile. A quick pass in the flat to James Thrash and they’re back in business.
Or so I thought. Ineptitude tried to rear its ugly head once again, as penalties and busted plays led to another fourth down, this time from the Dallas 39 and 15 yards needed for a new set of downs. This is it, I said, game over. And yet, I was wrong yet again, as Brunell floated a rainbow pass over the outstretched arms of Dallas safety Roy Williams—a Redskin nemesis if there ever was one—and into the waiting arms of new wideout Santana Moss, who fell down in the end zone for Washington’s first touchdown of the 2005 season.
Suddenly, it’s a ballgame, and I’m trying not to wake the neighbors in celebration.
So the Skins defense holds again—aided by more intervention from above in the form of a holding penalty that reversed a clock-killing Cowboy first down—giving Brunell and the boys have the ball back with a full three minutes on the clock, an eternity in the National Football League, even for the Redskins.
Turns out Brunell only needed about 30 seconds. In what is certainly the best ball I’ve ever seen No. 8 throw, he fires—yes, fires—a gorgeous strike to Moss, who is again streaking past Cowboy defenders, this time for a 70-yard touchdown that left me screaming (neighbors be damned) at 12:30 a.m. on Tuesday, Sept. 20, 2005, a time and date that will surely go down in both Redskin and Cowboy lore. Because the Skins’ defense held yet again and Washington players doused Joe Gibbs with water like he had just won the Super Bowl.
This game may not have meant as much to Gibbs as his three previous championships, but he said afterward, and I would agree, it was one of the top regular season games of his career, pre- or post-9/11. It was his first victory over Dallas coach Bill Parcells in nine tries, the Redskins’ first win in Dallas in 10 tries, and the first time Parcells has ever blown a fourth-quarter 13-point lead in 78 tries (yes, 78, that’s not a typo).
Yeah, it’s just two games, but better to be 2-0 than 0-2 (which they could and maybe should be).
Yeah, they shouldn’t have won this one, but the Cowboys have stolen so many games during the past decade, the Redskins were due.
And, yeah, the offense has only scored 23 points in two games, but I believe when this season is over, we’re going to look back at these last 14 as the turning point of the year. You could tell after the game that the players—especially the offense—had a big weight taken off their shoulders.
It was interesting to hear Clinton Portis say after the game that Moss had to convince Gibbs to let the speedy receiver go deep. I think Gibbs has been in shell shock and suffering from self doubt since returning to this franchise, and maybe it takes something like this for him to finally stop coaching scared and start coaching to win some games.
I’m not about to lose my head and say Washington can win the NFC East, because it won’t. I’m not going to say this group is going to win 11 or 12 games, because they can’t.
But with two down already, nine victories now looks like a genuine possibility, whereas one quarter of football ago it was more like a Dexter Manley pipe dream.
When the 2005 schedule was released, everybody in Washington (including me) griped about getting a Week 3 bye; now, I think nothing could have worked out better, because the players can carry this momentum with them into practice for the next two weeks as they prepare to host a playoff contender in the Seattle Seahawks on Oct. 2. Brunell needs all the time he can get to acclimate himself to this new group of receivers, receivers who now trust him to get the job done in crunch time, and, more importantly, deliver the ball with touch and speed. (And not to break my own arm patting myself on the back, but if you look at the post directly below this one, I can say I believe I had this one.)
Sports are such a crazy business. Just look how the fates and hopes of so many people can change, almost instantaneously, in the span of two nice-looking throws from a quarterback in the twilight of his career. The next 15 weeks certainly will be filled with anguish and anxiety, but for the first time since Coach Joe announced in January 2004 that he was returning to the city that loves him, the people of this city have hope that the team we love has a chance to do something special.
Who knows?

NASCAR never looked so good

Oh to be a fly on the wall at Redskins Park today as Joe Gibbs and his staff review last night’s tumultuous preseason performance in a 24-17 loss to the Cincinnati Bengals.
After games—especially losses—Gibbs is never going to say anything worthwhile about any subject or concerning any player. It’s always gonna be, “Yeah, I thought he got in there and competed real well” or some other inane non-speech that fills column inches in a newspaper but doesn’t really tell us anything. That’s Gibbs’ style—a player’s coach, defending them to the end—and history shows us his guys love him for it.
But what must he be saying to his staff and confidantes today? What does he really think about the state of the Washington Redskins in Year Two of the Messiah’s return? He’s probably wondering how he got himself into this mess (two words: Dan Snyder; he can screw up any good thing).
Put yourself in Gibbs’ place for a moment. Coming back to the NFL after such an extended absence, he knew he was walking back into an absolute disaster. One of the reasons he returned, he said, was to recapture the legacy he had spent a decade building here in Washington. He knew Snyder and Turner/Schottenheimer/Spurrier had made some disastrous choices, and it’s come out this year through various hinting-around-the-edges statements from the coaching staff that last year really was just about acclimating to the league and finding out what kind of players were actually on the roster—the “real Redskins,” to use a Gibbs phrase.
In order to bring stability to a nuclear reactor like the Redskins, Gibbs knew he was going to need a solid quarterback under center; a seasoned pro who would keep cool under duress and, most importantly, keep the ball going to the guys in burgundy and gold. Gibbs thought he had such a QB in Mark Brunell, one of the highest-rated passers in league history who was being pushed aside in Jacksonville in favor of a younger guy. The decision was questioned at the time, mainly because the Skins already had a first-round draft pick at the position in Patrick Ramsey, but everybody kinda said, “Well, it’s Joe, and we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”
And then it all went to hell.
The 2004 season was a disaster in all the ways Gibbs hoped it wouldn’t be. Brunell was not just ineffective at QB, he was inept, forcing Gibbs to go to Ramsey in November. The kid from Tulane with a cannon for an arm looked just OK last season, but he at least made the team competitive and could throw the ball more than 20 yards, so Gibbs had no choice but to name Ramsey the starter for 2005, hoping, I’m sure, to quell the flames of Washington’s ever-present quarterback controversy.
But after months of off-season workouts, several weeks of training camp, and two preseason games, Ramsey looks no different than he has for the past three seasons (remember that game against New Orleans his rookie year where almost every throw was intercepted?). He’ll make a really nice throw, make you believe he’s finally getting it, then he’ll throw not just an interception, but an interception that looks like Ramsey was actually trying to hit the other team’s defender right in the numbers. He has all the physical tools, certainly, but he just doesn’t seem to have the head for it. There are only a handful of men on the entire planet who are capable of playing quarterback in the National Football League; what makes us think Ramsey is one of those guys, just because he can launch the ball 70 yards?
Gibbs, who has observed Ramsey more than any other person in the world the last year and a half, obviously saw the same thing, otherwise he wouldn’t have spent two No. 1 draft picks on Auburn’s Jason Campbell. That pick alone in this year’s draft was enough to spark a moderate amount of hubbub and controversy this spring and summer. But making matters worse this year is, yep, Brunell.
Fact is, No. 8 looks like a completely different QB this year; or, should I say, looks more like his old self—the guy Gibbs thought he was getting last year. Brunell says there wasn’t anything wrong with his arm in 2004, and maybe there wasn’t. He was coming off surgery, though, and he got banged around early in the year and pulled his hamstring; during last night’s television broadcast of the Bengals game, Joe Theismann said legs have as much to do with a quarterback’s power as anything on his body. Whatever it was, Brunell looks much, much better this time around—looks like a QB who could actually help the Redskins win some games this year, instead of just trying to help them not lose.
This is where Gibbs’ mind must be ready to ooze out his nose. What is he going to do? He’s already named Ramsey his starter, but he looks awful. Brunell looks good, but he’s been working against second- and third-stringers, many of which won’t be in the league next month. If Gibbs gives Brunell some work with the first string in next week’s game, that opens a whole other can of worms and we have ourselves a legitimate quarterback controversy, not one just hanging around the fringes.
I think, for better or worse, Ramsey will be under center come Sept. 11, Washington’s opening game of the 2005 season against Chicago. Gibbs showed last year how stubborn and/or loyal he could be by sticking with Brunell for so many painful weeks, even though it was obvious to the guy that mows the grass at FedEx Field No. 8 couldn’t throw the ball from here to there. Gibbs named Ramsey his starter, and he’ll stick with him, at least through the first month of the season.
Trouble is, after 13 years and only one playoff appearance, I’m sick of waiting around, I’m sick of looking toward next year. If it took Brunell a year to be the guy Gibbs thought he would be, then everything else be damned. Gibbs really has gotten himself into an even bigger mess than I think he could have imagined back in January 2004, but it’s time to win some football games.
I can’t believe I’m about to type this, but: It’s time for Mark Brunell to take the reins.

No, Joe! Say it ain't so!

Watching the Washington Redskins throttle the hated New York Giants Sunday, I didn’t know whether to cheer or throw up.
Clinton Portis ran alternately like a deer and a bull, Patrick Ramsey made Favre-esque throws, and the defense—as usual—came up big on their way to a 31-7 rout. Too bad it took 12 weeks to find an offense.
As the Redskins improve to a whopping 4-8, I’m left wondering if that record wouldn’t be the exact opposite if Joe Gibbs hadn’t gone to Ramsey about six weeks into the season, instead of waiting until there were only six weeks left. The old cliché says pride comes before a fall, and it was Gibbs’ stubbornness that left the dreadful Mark Brunnel under center for 10 excruciating weeks of ineptitude.
Brunnel single-handedly gave away several games this year. His turnovers against Baltimore and Cleveland alone led directly to points for the other teams, dropping the Redskins further and further out of contention. But the blame ultimately rests with Golden Joe. It was Gibbs who signed Brunnel’s dead arm in the offseason to an unwieldy $40 million contract. It was Gibbs who stuck with the former All-Pro, even when everyone else in the football world—be it fans or opposing teams—failed to see the logic.
All of this was unbelievable to the devoted—like myself—who believed all of our dreams had come true in January when Gibbs announced he was returning to his beloved Redskins. I was one of those delusional morons who thought 13-3 wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. Gibbs succeeds at anything he touches, so why wouldn’t he be able to take one of the more talented teams in the league and turn them into instant winners?
Why, it seems, is because it took Gibbs until the first week of December to remember just how great a coach he is—with a little help from his players. In the days leading up to the Giants game, Gibbs had sit-downs with both Portis and Ramsey, who both begged the Hall of Fame coach to work to their strengths. Portis knew he needed Ramsey to at least try and go deep to free up some space to run, and Ramsey knew he needed an established running game to make any headway against a bitter division opponent.
Apparently, Gibbs listened—and the results were stunning.
Except for giving up a kickoff return for a touchdown, the Redskins dominated New York for the entire game—doing whatever they wanted on offense and defense, whenever they wanted. I’ve been screaming at the television all year for Gibbs to use Portis to the best of the fleet-footed runner’s abilities; for the first time this season, the coach finally put Portis in space with pitches, sweeps and screen passes, where he used his speed and shiftiness to rack up more than 150 yards and two touchdowns. With that running attack going through the Giants like a knife through butter, Ramsey was able to drop back in the pocket comfortably, using play-action to freeze the defenders in their tracks and put receivers in positions to make plays.
Though I wish Gibbs had gone to Ramsey earlier in the year, I have to believe all things will work out in the end—they always seem to for ol’ Joe. He had to work through his own challenges this year, and he’ll certainly be a better coach for it in 2005 and beyond. It’s important Washington finishes this season strong, though, so Daniel Snyder won’t be tempted to blow up the team once again before opening day next year. With one of the league’s best defenses and running backs, there’s no reason this group can’t be right in the thick of the playoff hunt next season (actually, in the ridiculously-bad NFC, the ’Skins are still alive for a berth this year).
It’s Redskins legend at this point, but let’s not forget Gibbs was almost fired in his first season as head coach in 1980, going 8-8. He went to back-to-back Super Bowls the next two years.
After the performance Gibbs and his young nucleus of players turned in Sunday, maybe history really will repeat itself.