A Rare Medium Well Done: 12.31.12
Authors note: I will no longer use the “R” mascot name when referring to the Washington pro football team. From here forth, I will use a variety of words. Please bear with me.
Its not even a state.
It’s set up with a maze of confusing roads and expressways resulting in untold snarling traffic. The layout closely mirrors the Washington Racialslurs football team. Many signposts directing masses, yet most end at a dead end. Think the marching band sauntering into the wall in the movie “Animal House“.
It lays a population of carpet-bagging scalleywags and Georgetown elite. A corporate colossus of rotten morals and a complicated mix of accomplishments and dreadful mistakes.
It’s named for George Washington, although he never lived there. Pierre L’Enfant designed it. The British tried to burn it, TWICE. Lincoln saved it. FDR battled the world stationed there. Nixon soiled it. Reagan restored it. Clinton (sex) toyed with it. And only God knows what will become of it now. But make no mistake. One man owns it today. One man reigns supreme. One flashy dude from Texas holds congressional-type power. The fleet-footed Heisman Trophy winner has the town uproarious, shrieking and frenzied.
Robert Griffin III come on down. Take a bow. You’re the toast inside the Beltway. But there is no cogitate deduction that the burning embers of bread are within the landlocked shores of the Potomac. The straight-laced, off-the-charts talented quarterback has sutured a wounded team with more ambition than ability. A commitment to pragmatic as well as the concrete. Egocentric, but balanced by the ironic.
I’m not schooled in the ideas of political economics, nor do I understand the true inner-workings of day-to-day government. I have no clue what ‘fiscal cliff’ entails. But if I’m a congressman this morning, I’m marching RGIII to the front and allow him to state his position. (BTW..he owns a economics degree which he obtained in only three years while playing major college football at Baylor). Whatever he states, the wise will follow closely behind. He might be the man to bring peace to the Middle East. Often when things ring too good to be true, the wheels usually fracture and fragmentation appears. Not here. Not this year. Not this team. Not RGIII. Simply stated, he is sensational. A gauzy, arrogant defiance of the fates. The Cowboys troubles are but a pale complexion to the vortex of whirling passions. The prospect of facing the braided unofficial mayor of DC for the next decade is depressing, dispirited and downright daunting.
After perusing the low hanging salacious fruits of the likes of Heath Shuler, Gus Frerotte, Jeff George, Tony Banks and so many more, the Racialslurs chose to move up in draft to take their guy. The cost was steep. The cost will be felt. This was an expensive, premium investment. But the worth of a franchise quarterback is measured in gold and diamonds, not draft picks and salary caps. Washington is the only team in NFL history to win three Super Bowls with three different quarterbacks. Heaped on their plates is a healthy appetite for another title. There is no elusive unanimity of opinion. Super Bowl or apocalyptic consequences. The risk is a gamble, the gamble is a risk. But mining the often times unwieldy waters for a superstar quarterback usually ends in disappointment. The Washington Racialslurs took their turn with the dice, calmly tossed them down pit, and they did come up seven. Or maybe it was eleven. Either way, they win. And they will win. And win BIG! Not even the roster of Texan alumnus like Sam Rayburn, LBJ, and Bush’s 41 and 43 held this power so swift and so quickly. After almost 20 years of navigating a (Potomac) river of craziness in an ocean of insane uncertainty, their man holds the gavel. Toppling the sneaky, complicated terrain of a district starving for an ‘Authurian’ hero, up steps a made man. After years of displaying a grotesque, insane method of operation, Little Danny Snyder’s Napoleon complex is in full bloom. And it’s no wonder.
So as Jerry Jones ponders the cloak and dagger of impending doom and gloom, take solace that this period will end. RGIII won’t play forever. Probably less than a dozen years, but maybe more. Perhaps the stars will align in a perfect harmonic convergence and he might even come home to Texas. RGIII wearing a silver and blue number 10 with a star on his helmet. Could happen. I sincerely doubt it though. So as the owner and general manager of the Cowboys delivers a fiery denunciation of carefully crafted adjectives, well placed verbs and a smattering of dangling participles, take notice.
Robert Griffin III will remain a model of compassion with an unrelenting accommodating attitude. An imperishable poignancy of the heart.
The last time Washington DC has been this excited was……well…come to think of it…NEVER! The city has been galvanized. And on that, both political parties can agree.
Even in this town of crooked streets and corrupt avenues.
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