POLITICS

The Washington Football Team Is a Metaphor for Politics, Too

The rot in our nation’s capital started 30 years ago, or so

Many of you know the sad, sad story of the Washington Football Team.

You know — the three-time Super Bowl champions who haven’t been to The Dance since 1992.

Yes, I lived in D.C. during Washington’s heyday, about a mile from RFK Stadium, once the team’s home. I remember many a thrilling winter Sunday, when the cars of jubilant fans snaked down Constitution Avenue after a home game, sometimes covered with a thin sheen from a percolating snowstorm. Neighbors like me would line the street, slapping high fives with giddy boosters, not worried about the traffic but luxuriating in yet another team victory.

It was, basically, a rolling tailgate in the frosty streets of our nation’s capital.

I could care less who the folks in the Chevy cruising past me voted for. They’d share their game day leftovers and we’d share other treats, snagged from the corner store.

Our city’s NFL franchise back then, in a sense, was a metaphor for the rest of D.C. We all tried — most of the time — to work toward what was best for everyone else; on the gridiron; in Congress; in the halls of power from Capitol Hill to the press corps to the Pentagon.

I’m not saying we didn’t have disputes. Oh, lots of dust got kicked up on Capitol Hill while things were getting done. But that was the bottom line — to get things done.

I’d wager that those D.C. fans were happy to be there — just because.

Even though they were trying to navigate the traffic on the narrow, 19th-century roadway between the stadium and the U.S. Capitol, the pride in our team stretched back to the suburbs and far reaches of the city.

We were winners, and as winners we were a family. The crowd, essentially, was a moveable feast. No one wanted the party to end.

But, of course, the celebration not only ended, but we haven’t been very happy about the condition of our football team — or our politics — for going on three decades now.

The transition — from winners to flat-out losers — was eventually reflected across the city.

I’m sure you’d agree that no one knows how to really win anymore in D.C. I’m talking about the kind of winning that makes everyone feel good, that helps everyone out — because that’s what the goal should be, after all.

The D.C. team — as part of this metaphor — had been heading for a fall for the longest time before they flat-out plummeted from the summit. The last NFL franchise to integrate — in 1962, at the demand of the Federal Government — D.C. insisted on keeping its longtime name, which canceled a whole culture of Native Americans, for the next almost 40 years.

So the rot started from within. And then it spread.

I’m not mentioning the “R” word — the team’s original name — here, because the battle over it through the decades is such a pitiful commentary on the racism that still exists in this country.

You can see the team name — and the nasty, long-disputed logo — in the photo above.

Here’s the short version of this sad tale. Essentially, after threats from various corners of the universe, D.C. was forced to abandon its xenophobic moniker. The incredibly inept recent ownership, led by an at once ignorant and continually belligerent Dan Snyder, refused to consider a mascot change until corporate sponsors demanded one, and dozens of retail outlets started removing team merchandise from store shelves.

Last year, reflecting the slow-as-molasses team transition to the 21st Century, Snyder agreed to drop the the name and logo that so disrespected Native Americans.

But the change was nothing if not incremental.

D.C.’s professional football franchise is now known by its initials and the city it represents. Like a 6th-grade boy trying to act tough, they’re now the WFT. You got it — the Washington Football Team.

The new team name is further evidence, of course, of a management refusing until the last possible moment to recognize the writing on the wall. They say they’re going to pick a “real” name next season. If you believe that, I’ve got a bridge to sell you in, well, an arid location out West.

The WFT, as it’s known, dropped the cartoonish (not as ridiculous as Cleveland’s baseball team, but in a different way) Indian warrior from its branding, but kept the team colors. And it’s probably cost-effective to print “WFT” in stylistic block letters on new merch.

I doubt that many were surprised by the move. We’ve all become accustomed to dysfunction in D.C.

Almost 30 years of losing; the revolving door that has resulted in nine head coaches since Snyder bought the team in 1999 (that’s one coach every 2.5 years, if you care); the continuing complaints about a dated mascot offensive and insulting to so many; a recent front-office sexual harassment scandal — going back 15 years — that’s currently under investigation by the NFL; a precipitous decline in season ticket holders (by 31 percent), meaning most stadium seats have been filled in recent years by opposing fans from rowdy locales like Philly and New York, and the basic ineptitude of management on all levels make great fodder for the print and broadcast press.

None of this, of course, does anything at all to boost a franchise that has no chance of being a contender anytime soon. Except they’re 1–1 now; but hey, it’s still early.

Sound a little like Washington gridlock? D.C.’s collective refusal to recognize what is right and see the light? I think so.

Yeah, it was fun decades ago to root for our team; to slap fives with fellow fans when they traveled through our neighborhood after a game; to snag an impossible-to-come-by ticket and walk down Constitution Avenue to RFK Stadium, following the exploits of our boys in burgundy and gold; to jump around in the stadium with 80,000 fellow cheerleaders, trying to make the old-timey metal stands shake, rattle and roll.

But it was also a blast, once upon a time, to work in politics in D.C. To witness, first-hand, the masters at their craft. To see our elected officials accomplish something, instead of throwing up roadblocks in the nasty culture wars our politics have become.

The last 30 years have been the worst, all over D.C. The WFT, you say? I’ve been saying “WTF” for a good, long time.