Well, as always, the Redskins are what unites DC, and today they are united around one theme: Jim Zorn is dumber than a sack of hammered feces. When your special teams coach has to handle your clock management for you, when you’re running trick plays over and over inside the 5, when you’re playing the worst team in the NFL and never cross the goal line in five trips inside the red zone (and come away with only 3 field goals for your trouble), your playcalling is clearly for shit.
On the bright side, I won both my fantasy league games, largely because I had the fortune to get Drew Brees in one and the brains to draft Ronnie Brown in the other. You’d think nobody ever thought of a direct snap to a running back in the shotgun – it’s called the single wing, jackass, it was the basis of all football for the first two decades of the NFL – but the Monday Night Football team kept crowing about “Wildcat!” with all the exuberance of a teenage girl who just discovered the shower massager. As somebody who watched the Alabama Crimson Tide play the back end of the 1993 season with a slotback under center for most of the game (the immortal David Palmer, and no not the President), all I can say is that the NFL is like watching a bunch of 4 years olds play soccer – as soon as one discovers something, they all run after it in a pack like nobody’s ever done it before. Face it, people: your superior entertainment takes place on Saturdays, not Sundays.