In the midst of a season gone awry, the tumultuous transformation of a would-be savior to one in need of saving, and the apocalyptic disappointment of a wearied fan base, the Redskins’ 2014 demise inevitably buries perspective.
Admittedly, a team that is so consistently upsetting — with a name that offends some and recent play that does the same – deserves a little interminable woe. But perhaps a Thanksgiving hiatus is in order, because in seasons to come is potential: for more wins, more losses, more benchings and more squabbles. And that potential is worth a slice or two of thanks between bites of pumpkin pie.
On this day seven years ago, great potential was rendered forever unfulfilled when Redskins safety Sean Taylor passed away. The story — of the armed burglary at his Miami home, of Taylor being shot, of his death a day later — hardly needs retelling: it was told time and again seven years ago, and resurrected when a documentary about his life premiered in September and when the man who killed him was convicted this summer.
The front page to the left is from the day after Taylor’s death, when the circumstances of his shooting were still very much unclear, and as Mike Wilbon wrote then, the narrative of his life and death was even blurrier.
Taylor had a troubled past. Some said his troubled end was inevitable. Others cited the circumstances of the burglary as evidence of horrific coincidence. Either way, Sean Taylor’s death was as jarring as the hits he once delivered at FedEx Field, a shock to Washington fans that was never upsetting because of the void it left in the Redskins’ secondary.
The Redskins acknowledged that void on the first defensive snap after Taylor’s death, sending 10 men against the Bills’ 11 on Dec. 3, 2007. That day, the team’s band played “Hail to the Redskins” slowly, then cut it off abruptly. The Redskins lost, 17-16, that day, and Thomas Boswell wrote a phrase Redskins fans might feel applies to their fandom these days, but seems wholly melodramatic when compared to its use in his column then:
“Nobody said life had to be fair, but this is getting to be ridiculous.”
The love Redskins fans still have for Taylor can be seen in the No. 21 jerseys and No. 21 car decals still so prevalent around the Washington area. But perhaps Redskins fans could use Taylor’s story now as much as their team could use him in their secondary: for the smiles that come with memories of his on-field exploits, for a reminder of what could have been, then couldn’t be, and for some perspective, because their team so hopelessly mired in self-stirring quicksand won’t be some day.