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Thanks for the Memories
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Art Monk and Darrell Green are going into the Pro Football Hall of Fame today. I think I can say with a fair amount of certainty that all of Redskins Nation is ecstatic over this.
We knew Darrell would get in on the first ballot. However, during this year’s election we again braced ourselves for the ritual snubbing of Art Monk. However—thankfully—the electors finally got it, and officially gave Art the designation he quietly earned throughout his career. We know the sound arguments for his election to the HOF, and they no longer need to be retread. On that point I will say this; skeptics ask where is Art’s signature catch? My answer: all of them! He made so many that counted more than any one Sports Center highlight could explain.
How fitting it is that Art goes into the hall with his teammate Darrell Green. For Redskins fans of a certain vintage, the names Art Monk and Darrell Green conjure up nostalgic reflections of our youth, the glory years. Watching the game with our families, turning the volume on the television down and the radio up to hear Sonny, Sam, and Frank call the game, when the playoffs were a given, and all that mattered in our lives was a win on Sunday. The Redskins provided moments, Art and Darrell’s among so many others, that transcend football.
As a father with a growing family of my own, I look back on those times and I see more than just the great wins. I now see the shared moments with family and friends that I was too immature to comprehend. They are anchored moments in time, snapshots of my life as it was. When I think back on Darrell’s punt return against the Bears in the 1987 playoffs, I remember the family room of the house I grew up in, where my parents and I watched games. I remember sharing the joy with my Mom and Dad, and my old dog barking at all the commotion we made.
I remember watching Super Bowl XXVI with my high school buddies and our celebration turned to cursing at the referees when they ruled Art out-of-bounds on a sure touchdown reception. Of course, we returned to celebrating shortly thereafter. Monk caught seven balls for 113 yards by the way.
Like surfing the Internet, recalling one memory leads to another, and another.
Good times, good times.
For me, like so many others, the Redskins are a family tradition passed down from generation to generation. That is the reason, I suspect why our fan base is so unique and passionate. I think when reporters get snippy about the fan base they should talk to Tom Boswell, who more than any sports reporter, save maybe Andy Pollin or Steve Czaban understands our special bond with this team.
My daughter is a bit too young to go to games, and my son won’t make his appearance until just before the opener against the Giants. However, I look forward to the joy of taking your children to see the Redskins and do my part to pass on the tradition.
So Art, Darrell and the rest of the team, thanks for the memories.
Here are some of them.
A great TorresA vid:
The Return of the Green
Art Monk owns the Bears
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