The Redskin Report

Jump to Comments

From Lee - this guest post was submitted by Michael Ceballos Farnham. Contact details are below

Imagine what it would feel like to wear a Roman gladiator’s armor, in the middle of the sweltering August heat.  Now imagine being in that heat, wearing that armor, and pushing your body to point of exhaustion on a daily basis for a month.  That is NFL training camp.  The reason these gladiators go through this insane practice every summer before the regular season, is so that they will be prepared, mentally and physically for the rigors of the next 17 weeks.  They do it for a ring, a spectacularly jewel encrusted symbol of greatness and football immortality.  As they say in the NFL - Super Bowl or bust.  For the Redskins of 2007, their goal was no different than the other 31 teams in the NFL, but through a set of extraordinary circumstances, they would prove to be the exception the rule, Super Bowl or bust.

The majority of NFL experts had picked the Redskins to finish dead last in the brutally competitive NFC East.  The offense was to be handed over to a talented young quarterback, Jason Campbell, but his inexperience was cause for concern.  Running back Clinton Portis, the shimmering star of the offense, was supposedly on the downturn of his career, and a shell of his former self.  While the offense was a mystery, the defense looked to return to being one of the most tenacious units in the league.  A large reason for that belief was the drafting of strong safety Laron Landry, a ferocious defender who showed no mercy to opposing offensive players. Not only did they add a great player to an already talented unit, but this would allow the team’s most gifted and talented star, free safety Sean Taylor, to play his natural position, deep center field, where he could terrorize quarterbacks and obliterate any wide receiver with enough intestinal fortitude to cross his path.  The sky was the limit for the Redskins defense, and they would live up to those expectations, and then some.

Opening day at a packed FedEx field saw the defense dominate the Miami Dolphins, while the offense did just enough to put the fish away.  The next Monday night, after enforcing their will on the Philadelphia Eagles, in front of Philly’s rabidly hostile fans, Washington served notice to the rest of the league that this Redskins team was serious.  Over the next few weeks, there were some ups and some downs, but the optimism remained strong.  One of the reasons people in the nation’s capital were unwavering in their belief was the stellar play of the defense, Sean Taylor in particular.  After intercepting the legendary Brett Favre twice in one game, (one of which set a record for most INT’s thrown by a quarterback) Sean’s name was being floated around as the top candidate for the NFL Defensive Player of the Year, an award most football connoisseurs pegged Sean to win multiple times, in what was to be a highly decorated NFL career.  Offenses were not  challenging the Redskins with a deep passing game, out of fear of what Sean would do.  It is so much easier to play defense when you know the other team wouldn’t dare go deep, and the Redskins defense took full of advantage of that.

Then came the first weekend of November.  The Redskins were facing the Eagles in a vital NFC East match.  It was a typical Eagles-Redskins game, very close, hard hitting, and the outcome would probably be in doubt until the final gun went off. Late in the game, the Redskins suffered a huge loss on the defensive side of the ball, as Sean Taylor was injured on an innocent looking tackle on Eagles tight end, L.J. Smith. The announcer for the game was Joe Buck, and as the Eagles offense was enjoying new success without Taylor, he opined “the Redskins defense hasn’t been the same since Taylor was injured”, and as soon as the last word dashed from his brain, through his mouth, and out to the millions of viewers, the Eagles Brian Westbrook scored the game winning TD for Philadelphia, running through the middle of the field where Sean Taylor would normally be.  The Redskins suffered a crucial defeat, and Sean Taylor had played his final football game.

The prognosis on Sean was a high ankle sprain, and it would be at least two weeks before he could realistically return to the field.  It couldn’t have been a more inopportune time for this injury. That upcoming Sunday, the Redskins would have to travel to Dallas and try to cool off their red-hot arch-nemesis, the Cowboys.  That’s never an easy task, but to have to march into this battle without their fiercest warrior Sean Taylor, it seemed almost impossible.

Game day in Dallas had arrived, and for a half, the Redskins were in command of the football game.  The deadly Dallas Quarterback-Wide Receiver combination of Tony Romo and Terrell Owens had been held in check and Jason Campbell and the Redskins offense were moving the football with relative ease.  After halftime, somebody must have reminded the Dallas offensive coaches that Sean Taylor was not playing, and that his replacement Reed Doughty was on borrowed time, in terms of giving up big plays. BOOM! Just like that, the Cowboys unleashed a merciless aerial assault on the Redskins, mainly targeting Reed Doughty. T.O. was ruthless in the bombardment, scoring a career high 4 TD’s.

Sean Taylor put fear into the hearts of all offensive players he faced, but T.O. especially.  In previous showdowns vs. Taylor, T.O. was hesitant to enter Sean’s area, and when he did slip up and enter Sean’s cross-hairs, he paid dearly for it.  To not have that fear in the back of his mind that day, must have been extremely liberating for T.O., and it showed.  Instead of playing timid, always wondering where Sean was, T.O. could focus completely on his routes, and how he would victimize the Redskins defensive backs.  In spite of the Dallas surge, Jason Campbell had led the Redskins down the field with under a minute to play, and had the team in position to win.  It wasn’t to be, as Campbell threw an interception, and Dallas secured the victory.  The post game commentary focused on the absence of Sean Taylor, and how it was the deciding factor in the loss.  Surely, T.O. wouldn’t have had 4 TD’s if he knew Sean was back there, lurking like a Great White Shark, just waiting to pounce, as he’d done so many times in the past.

The next week brought an ugly loss at Tampa Bay, and as the Redskins stumbled to a record of 5-6, the optimism of the early season was on life support. All of the talk about bad coaching descisions, poor execution, and missed opportunities was about to fly out the window, as the Redskins world was about to come violently crashing down.

On the morning of November 26th 2007, the entire Redskins nation awoke to the news that Sean Taylor had been shot in the leg and was clinging to life, at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami. The media spoke with the players in the afternoon, and these Sunday afternoon gladiators, without their armor and without the roar of 90,000 fanatics, showed their soft side.  Grown men who hit and get hit with car crash force every Sunday, were teary eyed, and voices crackling as they talked about their brother and his fight to live.  No new information came until midnight, when it was reported that Sean had squeezed a nurse’s hand, and was making facial expressions.  He was upgraded to critical but stable, and after a day of hanging in suspense, it provided some relief to the worried masses.

Unfortunately, the good news that came as people were heading to bed, had  turned into the worst kind of news during the early morning hours of November 27th. Sean had lost copious amounts of blood, due to his femoral artery being severed, and hard as the doctors had tried, the wound was fatal. He was only 24 years old. The wound is one that can kill in 5 minutes; Sean had fought and lasted for 24 hours, a true warrior to the end.  He died defending his home and the people he loved; there is no more honorable way to leave this earth.

Now, one of the NFL’s brightest young stars, would never blossom into one of the greatest players in the illustrious history of the league.  A little girl was robbed of her father. Sean’s highschool sweetheart Jackie Garcia was now a widow.  Worst of all, Pedro Taylor, Sean’s father and Donna Junor, Sean’s mother, would live every parent’s worst nightmare, having to bury their child, as they would now have to do.

When tragedy strikes, people often like to escape reality by working, but for the Redskins, the reminders of Taylor were inescapable.  While watching game film in preparation for the next opponent, the team would see Sean, flying around the field.  When the players and coaches arrived at work every day, it was impossible to miss Sean’s vacant parking spot, which was marked with his number 21, and a sign commemorating his Defensive Player of the Week award from the second game of the season.  His locker which still contained a pair of black Air Jordans, his uniform, and a picture of him holding his baby daughter, was now encased in Plexiglas.  But nothing could have been more agonizing for the team, than standing under the giant, inflatable Redskins helmet, listening to the thunderous roar of the 90,000 fans, as they waited to take the field, without Sean.  The University of Miami triumvirate, Clinton Portis, Santana Moss, and Sean Taylor, had a tradition of being the last 3 Redskins to emerge from that tunnel before every game.  Against the Buffalo Bills, and for the rest of Moss and Portis’ careers, their 3 man tradition would now be a 2 man ritual.

Just a day before Sean was laid to rest in his native Miami, the Buffalo Bills had a date with the grief-stricken Redskins.  For the Redskins fans in attendance, it was to be their final farewell to the most popular and beloved player on the team. His appeal reached all Redskins fans.  The young generation loved the swagger with which he played, and the way he never backed down from anybody.  The older Redskins fans admired him for being the anti- prima donna, a guy who just did his job, and did it with a ferocity that was reminiscent of the legends of the NFL. He was a throwback to the days of Dick Butkus, Ray Nitchskie, and Jack Tatum.  They loved him for the way he played, which was best described by Giants running back Brandon Jacobs who after a game vs. the Redskins told reporters that Taylor “threw his body around like he had another one in the closet.”

That day, FedEx field was swollen with sadness; it felt more like funeral than football game.  The dreary overcast sky, bitterly cold air, and sudden off and on showers, matched the mood of the day. The marching band began playing the powerful, grim, slow, drum beat that is played at military and police burials, the only thing missing was the 21 gun salute.  After a tear jerking 5 minute video tribute to Taylor, and a moment of silence, the whistle blew, and the game had to be played.  It was a sloppy, forgettable affair that ended on a gut-wrenching clock management error by the legendary Joe Gibbs.  It cost the Redskins the game, as Buffalo nailed a last second field goal.

Sitting at 5-7, with 4 games left, all of which were against quality opponents, most people figured the Redskins would fold up, too wounded to muster up any sort of run to clinch a playoff spot.  Not only did they have to overcome the great emotional distress of losing a teammate, but pragmatically speaking, there was no way to replace Sean’s impact on the football field.  If the Redskins lost their remaining games, everybody would understand and they would sympathize. After a 3 ½ hour funeral which was attended by over 3,000 people, the Redskins flew back from Miami with an strong resolve, and a goal to honor Sean, by playing the rest of the season with the same type of iron will and determination he played with.  The Chicago Bears were coming to D.C., and as they were about to find out, this Redskins team was on a mission.

Jason Campbell was injured early against the Bears, and would miss the rest of the season.  Enter Todd Collins, a career backup who hadn’t started a game in 10 years.  He found a way to lead the Redskins to a victory over the Bears, who needed the win just as bad as the Redskins.  After 3 consecutive decisive wins vs. the Giants, Vikings, and Cowboys, the Redskins had done the impossible, and made the playoffs.  Led by the unknown Collins, the unshakable Joe Gibbs, and Sean Taylor’s closest friends Clinton Portis and Santana Moss, the Redskins had a date in the Emerald city against the NFC West champion Seahawks.

Emotionally and physically drained from the last month, the Redskins seemingly bloated gas tank, was about to hit “E” in Seattle. On a rare sunny day in the upper North West the Seahawks dominated every aspect of the game for the first 3 quarters.  Then, all of the sudden, the Redskins scored 14 points in a five minute span.  As soon as the tsunami of momentum came, it quickly evaporated, and Seattle reestablished their superiority.  Seattle came back to win by 21 points, and the Redskins rollercoaster season, finally came to a close.

The loss to Seattle lingered, anytime you lose in the playoffs it happens, but it didn’t last that long.  The loss of Sean Taylor however, is everlasting.  Sean Taylor didn’t like giving interviews after losses. Once, a reporter asked him why, and Sean replied, “We lost, what is there to talk about?”  However, after the Seattle loss, there was nothing to be ashamed of.  The Redskins didn’t achieve Super Bowl immortality, but they were far from failures.  Having to bury your best player in the middle of the season is something no NFL team has ever dealt with, and there aren’t many organizations that could have handled it as well as Joe Gibbs, and the entire Redskins.

Winning 4 games in a row to clinch a playoff berth, isn’t something that happens often in the NFL.  The fact that the Redskins were able to do that, after losing Sean, makes it even more impressive.  We know Sean detested losing, but he would be proud of his brothers for playing the way he played those final 5 weeks, and he would flash that brilliant smile of his to see the enormous outpouring of love shown by the Redskins community.  Throughout the NFL’s lengthy history, many a 9-7 team have come and gone, but this 9-7 Redskins team has made sure that like the memory of Sean Taylor, their story will never be forgotten, and while they don’t have rings to show for it, there efforts were that of a champion.

Michael Ceballos Farnham is journalism student and lifelong fan of the Washington Redskins. He can be reached at mf312 (at) aol (dot) com