I bleed burgundy and gold… even though we suck

I am a Redskins fan.

Go ahead. Laugh. I can take it.

I know. The Lions beat us last year. The Lions.

Are you done laughing and mocking me yet?

I’ll wait.

Okay, to get back to what I was saying, I am a Redskins fan.

I can’t help it, and I don’t want to. I’ve been a ‘Skins fan since before I was born, and I’m pretty sure that I’ll continue to be one after I die. (Unless some other team takes a page from the Book of Mormon and start converting the dead, in which case I want it stated on my tombstone that I was born and died a Redskins fan.)

My dad has been a season-ticket holder since 1963. And I’m pretty sure that the number of games he’s missed since then is lower than his shoe size. The soundtrack of my childhood was filled with my father screaming loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear him, either in warrior-like pride or a murderous rage, depending on how our team was doing. It was never necessary to ask what had happened in the games that were played past my bedtime; my father’s howling was a more descriptive commentary than anything that any former players could ever provide. (And it was also the source of most of the colorful language that I now use while stuck in traffic. Thanks dad!)

When I was in high school, my father sat me down for a serious talk. I immediately assumed that I was in deep trouble. He invited me to sit on the white living room sofa, which my brother and I were ONLY ever allowed to sit on when we were about to be murdered over something we had done, or when we were being told that someone had died. To this day, I’m scared to sit on those sofas.

That time though, I wasn’t in trouble and no one was dead. My dad said the following to me:

“You can marry someone who’s not Jewish. I won’t be thrilled, but I will understand. You can marry a Republican. I’ll have nothing to say to him, but I will understand. But if you marry a Cowboys fan, you’re out of the family, and you’re dead to us. We’ll sit shivah for you, and it’s over.”

And because I was on the white sofa, I knew that he meant business.

He later proved his point when I brought home a boyfriend who was a Republican Baptist. He loved the Redskins though, so my dad had no problem with him.

As a lifelong ‘Skins fan, there are several groups of people whom I hate more than anything else in the world. Literally. Like on the level that I hate Osama Bin Laden and George W. Bush.

All other Redskins fans already know what three of these things are: The Cowboys, the Giants, and the Eagles. And even more than the teams themselves, their fans.

I’m not going to go too far into the rivalry there (partially because I don’t have much that I CAN say until we have a better season than last season), because I have discovered a group of people that I hate if not MORE than the Cowboys, then at least as much.

The bandwagon fans.

Is there anything worse on this planet (other than Dan Snyder) than people who only like a team when they’re winning? This is the ultimate hypocrisy. Think about it, do you stop loving your child because he wets the bed? Do you stop loving your puppy because she ate your favorite shoe? If I can say no to that last one (and unfortunately, I know from experience that I can), then no REAL fan can stop loving his or her team because they lost a few games. Even if one of those games was to the freaking Lions.

As a Marylander though, I have a particular group of bandwagon fans who make me the most angry: Ravens fans.

If you live in Baltimore, are old enough to have been upset when the Colts left for Indiana, or are young enough to have never been a Redskins fan, then I have no problem with you. You are entitled to like the Ravens. Enjoy your purple jerseys.

If, however, you were a Redskins fan until the Ravens won the Superbowl and then switched your allegiance, you will be forever banned from watching any sporting event when I rule the world. (I also plan to get rid of Delaware entirely when I rule the world. But I’ll explain that plan another time.)

There’s only one group of Ravens fans though who are worse than the former-Redskins fans: the girls who wear Ravens gear because they like the purple jerseys. I hate to break it to you ladies, but that doesn’t impress your boyfriend even though you’re wearing a football jersey. It makes you look like an idiot. Man up, pick a team, and stick with them till the bitter end.

That’s what I’ve done. I will love the Redskins even if they never have another winning season.

But when they DO get better someday (Come on God, DC needs this!), my fellow REAL fans and I are going to be far happier about it than any of the bandwagon fans could ever be.

And if we win against the Cowboys, even better.