My thoughts on the Burgundy and Gold

Yesterday’s loss hurt. The previous losses to the Giants, Packers, Patriots, Eagles and Cowboys hurt. Joe Gibbs’s ill-timed timeouts hurt. Jason Campbell’s interceptions hurt, as do the fumbles by Clinton Portis and Santana Moss.

None of the above, however, hurt as much as what happened to Sean Taylor at 1:30 this morning at his home in Miami. I’m speechless, watery-eyed and can barely concentrate.

Reports are conflicting; some say he’s “stabilized,” others say he’s in a coma. Whatever the case may be, the Washington Redskins took a blow today that is way bigger than football.

Since word came out that our beloved #21 was shot, there has not been one mention of the Tampa Bay game, which is the way it should be. As fans of professional sports, we think we know how hard it is to play the games we love. We think we know why a certain play was or wasn’t made, and we think our advice is sometimes better than the advice that comes from the sidelines. We’re a nation of Monday morning quarterbacks, but only because we’re so passionate about our teams.

So when something happens that transcends the game, we are given a reality check as to just how human these million-dollar-earning, physical specimens are. They get in trouble and suffer tragedy like you and I, yet we somehow think that they are able to overcome it because of their position in the spotlight.

For the past 3+ seasons, Sean Taylor’s life has been a series of ups and downs. He’s made stupid decisions on the field (spitting in Michael Pittman’s face) and off (getting arrested for waving a firearm at a bunch of ATV-stealing idiots), but the future never looked brighter than it did a few weeks ago.

His contributions on the field were huge. He was becoming the dominant safety that everyone knew he could become, and his status as the best defensive player on the Redskins was all but established.

Clinton Portis said earlier today that his teammate was a changed man off the field as well. He had a child not long ago and began to distance himself from the thuggery that plagued his days at The U. He moved into a nicer neighborhood with his girlfriend and vowed to focus on his life as an elite NFL player.

His life, in short, was perfect.

And then someone tried to break into his house.

We can speculate all we want about what caused this or who was responsible for that, but the fact remains that Sean Taylor was shot this morning. His future as a football player is in jeopardy, but more importantly, so is his future as a father, boyfriend and son.

We ask a lot of our athletes, but we have to respect what they are able to do for us and move on. If Sean Taylor is never able to play football again, so be it. It’ll be a damn shame, but we need to keep the prayers going for him as a person before anything is said about him as a football player.

After all, his family needs him a lot more than his fans do.

Get well, #21... and, as always, Hail.

Hanz or Franz, I am not.

I’ve always been a pretty active person.

When I was a younger man, I played soccer and tennis in an organized fashion for many years, participating in the latter at a Division III college as a freshman and sophomore. I dabbled in baseball as a youth, Club Hockey in college and extracurricular basketball until I busted my face on vacation this August.

My love of sports and taking part in them has fueled my lust for life, but one thing that I cannot stand is the most basic, natural form of exercise, and that is running. I’ve just never liked it.

Invite me to a competitive contest a few times a week and I’m right there with you, but unless I’m chasing after a ball, puck, another man (hold the jokes) or have some sort of equipment in my hand (again with the jokes), I just don’t see the point. Running for the sake of running, to me, is as boring as watching paint dry... which is why it is so damn difficult to go the gym after work.

Let me back-track for just a second: before this spring, I could count on one hand the amount of times I stepped foot in an organized, all-under-one-roof fitness facility. Weight benches, treadmills, spinning machines, men walking around flexing their heads while wearing cut-off sweatpants -- I just didn’t find paying money to see these things a necessity.

I’ve been on this Earth for over 28 years, and I think I’ve done pretty well so far. Sure, I could firm up the abs that rest snuggly under my 1-pack, but I’ve been hovering around the same weight for about 10 years. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, am I right?

Apparently not.

Earlier this year, the lady-friend in my life suggested we join the gym together, and rather than fight it, I decided to cave. I recognized the fact that it may be a good idea, and I even thought that I could get used to the whole working-out thing.

It started off well, as endeavors like this often do, but eventually it fizzled. It turns out that, unfortunately, I lack what many people would call “motivation.”

Instead of ending the work day on a high note, more often than not I drive right past the gym, head home and stare at the moving pictures on the television screen and surf the interwebs.

But no more!

Despite my hatred of any and all forms of solo exercise, I am succumbing to the guilt that, if I don’t take advantage, I’m essentially throwing away $40 a month. Joe Trainer convinced me when I signed up that the new Ab-pec-quad-lat-bicep-o-rama 2000 was totally worth my hard-earned money, and dammit, he’s right.

So wish me luck, America, as I embark on a journey to rid my body of any and all bad things. Now if only there was a way to make chicken nuggets not so damn tasty...

Nice.

Behold, the new Washington Nationals Park, scheduled to open in April of 2008. She's coming along nicely, don't you think?

Oh, and see that dark thing just below the Nationals logo? That there is going to be one of the largest HD TVs in the world. As the Kool-Aid man proclaims, "Oh yeah!"

Image courtesy of Clark Construction.