By Deandra D. / @dduggs11
The Redskins aren’t in the Super Bowl this year, but I do remember when they were. Allow me to wax poetic about my favorite Super Bowl memory to date.
1992 was one of the most memorable years for me – I was the ripe age of 7 and witnessed, for the first time in my active memory (considering I was only 3 when they won in ’87), my favorite team winning their third Super Bowl. This year marks the 20th anniversary of Super Bowl XXVI, the Redskins’ third championship and 20 years since they’ve even been remotely close to glory again.
I vividly remember how electric Washington, DC was during the ’91-’92 season and having lived just three miles away from RFK Stadium, Sundays were always special. Sundays were set aside for football, family and food, and in the rare occasion my father had to work, he somehow managed to soak in the game from the rooftop of his place of employment. He couldn’t see much, but he could hear the cheers from the crowd during every play that was worthy of such excitement. Sundays were Redskins Sunday – DC had a proud fan base and our team was on its way to a 14-win (regular) season under the great Joe Gibbs.
Redskins fandemonium ran deep in my family. Even my grandmother was a proud card-carrying member of the fan club, and to this day, she has the commemorative Wheaties box and Coca-Cola cans sitting atop her living room shelf. In the second grade, I was proud to wear my Dad’s Redskins Starter jacket that was obviously too large for my small frame, yet was still worn with pride and dignity. See, back then, wearing Redskins ‘nalia didn’t lead to questions – my loyalty was understood and appreciated.
I became an even bigger fan on Sunday, January 26, 1992 after a 37-24 win over the Bills and, surprisingly, nothing has allowed that passion to wither. I wore my coveted championship shirt wherever I could and definitely wore that Starter jacket into the ground.
People often question why I’m a Redskins fan and to that I respond – “I’m too emotionally invested not to be.” Since ’92, we’ve had eight coaching changes, ten seasons with double-digit losses, one home playoff game and the pride that once danced in the streets of DC has become as desolate as the parking lot at RFK. But who jumps ship simply because their team has had a couple a few many years of bad luck? Who does that?
Perhaps it’s the 20-year-old memory that keeps me optimistic, remembering the days of old and seeing every year as an opportunity to get back to that place. Waiting for the next time we’re able to assemble a team that could match the talent of the 91’-92’ guys that included Art Monk, Darrell Green, Gary Clark, Mark Rypien and Earnest Byner, keeps me hoping that we’re on the cusp of a comeback, but alas, I am let down each and every season. It’s quite laughable to some, but I’ll forever be a Redskins apologist. I’ll find a silver lining in almost anything. Even in the Jim Zorn era.
