Redskins Helped Themselves To a Second Serving of Tuna
Did you see The Tuna on the sideline in the first half? Did you see how old and cold and pained he looked at that endless parade of false starts by his team, and the endless parade of touchdowns by Washington? (My friend Nancy called and said gleefully, "He's beginning to look like Tony Soprano's mother!")
His Cowboys couldn't run, they couldn't pass, they couldn't protect, they couldn't tackle. Twenty-eight zippo in the first half! Joe Gibbs hadn't beaten Bill Parcells in a long time, but he owns him this year. It's like Gibbs has a private catering company, and all they serve is seared Tuna.
All week long, I was confused as to why everybody on national TV was picking the Cowboys to win. They can't run, and their quarterback is a statuary, stationary target. Drew Bledsoe can't get out of the way of a cruise ship. Come on, he threw an interception on his first play! The Cowboys had nothing to offer, including resistance. They made Chris Cooley look like Jim Brown, for heaven's sake.
People always complain how tough it is to fight the traffic going home from FedEx Field. But not when you can leave five minutes into the third quarter because the score is 35-0. You could have left then, gone to the airport and flown to Miami in time to join those wearisome old coots from the '72 Dolphins as they popped their champagne corks to celebrate the Colts' loss. (By the way, Mercury, they actually were on your block, and we tried to wake you, but at your age you require so many naps it's hard to know when to wake you and when to let you sleep.)
That's the best game the Redskins have played all year. It keeps alive my prediction from three weeks ago that they'd run the table. At the time, Wilbon called me a "sycophant." But I've got three down and two to go, and Wilbon is going back to the dictionary to look up the word "loser." Sure, the Giants crushed the Redskins last time. But that was there, and this is here. Did anybody say, "Dinner is served"?