Expect a Ghost Town by Sunset
'Redskins Effect' Causes Eerie Calm

By Joshua Partlow
Washington Post Staff Writer
Saturday, January 7, 2006

The trash blows past the hardware store like tumbleweed and the men inside speak of a "ghost town." Imagine: a crisp clear Sunday, pregnant with possibilities for cabinet repair, deck sanding, maybe a new nail gun, and yet, there are no customers. And this, dead center in the nation's capital.

"It's amazing," said John Woodfolk, 64, behind the key counter at W.J. Candey Hardware, two blocks from Dupont Circle. "You just don't see anybody on the streets."

Woodfolk is describing a phenomenon that some call the "Redskins Effect": that trance-like state of calm that descends on the region when hundreds of thousands of eyes are staring at football. Today, at 4:45 p.m. -- kickoff of the Washington Redskins' first playoff game in six years -- expect many area residents to retreat en masse to their dwellings or sports bars. Outside, life will continue, but according to those who've lived it, the pace will be quite different.

"When it's a home game, we're losing 60 percent of our business; it's really something," said Brewster Bassett, the head teaching professional at the Bull Run Country Club in Haymarket, who has watched his fairways regularly bleed golfers at game time. "It's a funny effect. I kept on asking the general manager, 'What's going on here?' And he said: 'Football.' "

At 84 Lumber in Clinton, salesman Matt McLean said three or four customers will walk in during a typical Redskins game. On days without a game, that number would be more like 20, he said. As for today's playoff game, McLean said the effect on fans is "a lot bigger deal now."

The general manager at a Giant supermarket in Silver Spring -- who asked not to be named because such armchair anthropology is not smiled on by corporate -- compared the Redskins Effect to a mountain range with three peaks and two valleys:

First the pregame rush for chips and dip, beer and party platters, then the game time lull, followed by a second spike at halftime ("Halftime is re-load time"), then a second-half drought and finally a postgame rush. The manager also noted that the proportion of female shoppers rises during the game:

"They want to get out of the house, out of sight; they don't want to see it."

Brandy Wynn can attest to this. She contributes to what could be called the "Reverse Redskins Effect," where people wait for football games to hit the stores.

"My husband's a super, super Redskins fan. I can say that when I go to the mall -- Pentagon City, PG Plaza or Tysons -- it's not as crowded," said Wynn, 35, who works at Godiva Chocolatier on Connecticut Avenue NW and lives in the District. "But that's why I go. It's just not as crowded. Everyone knows that."

Wynn finds these outings liberating, and not just because of the thin crowds. Speaking of her husband, and husbands in general, she said:

"They don't care; they'll tell you to go and spend whatever. Normally, they'll go, 'Oh, honey, you've got to stick with the budget. Let's do this.' But when it's football season, you can get those extra shoes, you can get that extra outfit or even slip on a little piece of jewelry. They don't care, as long as you take the kids."

In Washington social circles -- those not devoted to pizza and wings -- the playoff game probably will not cause a huge disruption. At the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, the musical "Wicked" is "totally sold out," and the game "hasn't had much of an effect," said spokeswoman Tiki Davies.

Carolyn Peachey, who runs an event-planning firm, said major events -- a benefit gala or a 25th anniversary -- would almost never happen this weekend, anyway.

"Too many people are still out of town. I am going to be out of town tomorrow, that's how quiet the event world is going to be," Peachey said Thursday. "That's Number 1. Number 2, there isn't an event planner in this town, I think I could safely say that, that would not check the Redskins schedule before scheduling an event."

The football fever has invaded the restaurant world in some subtle ways. At Michel Richard Citronelle restaurant, where weekend reservations need to be made four to five weeks in advance, most people don't cancel but want to eat their cake, too, said Jean-Jacques Retourne, the maitre d'.

"We have 25 tables, at least four or five tables ask me the score when there are important games," said Retourne, who tracks the scores on a computer in his office. "As a maitre d', you have to cater to the guests."

Todd Gray, chef and co-owner of Equinox, installed a discreet flat-screen television in the upper right corner of his restaurant's bar, near the ceiling, for those uniquely Washington moments. "Just Redskins games and presidential speeches," he said.

At the Brooks Brothers on Connecticut Avenue, the response was decisive.

"For us, it doesn't affect us. It stays steady whether they're playing or not," said Jason Cafarelli, the assistant manager.

The Washington Post: "So people are still buying their suits on a Redskins day?"

Cafarelli: "And sweaters."

TWP: ( hemming and hawing, trying to rephrase)

Cafarelli: "The Redskins never affect our business."

At the Smithsonian's National Museum of Natural History, football games don't make a dent in the weekend crowd -- more than 50,000 strong during the holiday season, said museum spokesman Randall Kremer.

"Not so far, and I've been here for 12 years," he said. "The Sunday afternoon visitation is the strongest ever. Other than hearing a few people talk about the Redskins in the halls, or hearing a transistor radio, we don't notice it." But like a good scientist, Kremer was not married to his conclusions:

"Should the Redskins return to the Super Bowl, we'll have to reevaluate these observations."

Staff researcher Magda Jean-Louis contributed to this report.