Hail to the Redskins!

Lest any of us ever forget where we were that day--for me and Re it was the Progress Club in Rockville, back at the old corner, with Dad telling me, "No! You don't get your own beer! You wait for Ricky to get it for you!" 'Cause doing otherwise would be a serious breach of protocol and would surely result in the imminent implosion of the known solar system.

But I went ahead and nabbed a couple cans of good ol' Budweiser for Re and me, and as I returned there was the glorious sight of the raggedly glorious Riggo his own self, breaking through the line, losing Don McLean--Bye! Bye! Miss American Pie!--thundering down the left sideline to score the go-ahead touchdown.

And I thought to myself, wrote it down in the letter I was writing to my dear old friend, Erin "The Fair One" Barnes: "I love when I don't listen to my Dad!"

And the final was 27-17, after I'd predicted 24-14 and a Redskins 4th Quarter comeback that the season had been all about all season.

So, as my good friends PJ have said on many an occasion, "Hail! Hail!" to Riggo and the Washington Natives! Long May You Run!

And let's come from behind this year our own selves.

It's all about making the team better,

JHepCat "72"