A Good Move: Gibbs Can Leave With His Head Held High

Good for Joe Gibbs.

Good for his family.

Good for his health.

Good for his future.

Did you see the 10,000-kilowatt smile on Gibbs' beaming face Tuesday as he spoke on the first day of the rest of his life at his farewell news conference? Didn't it seem as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from his shoulders? Didn't he look about 10 years younger? And wasn't it so nice to hear that famous Gibbs cackle again, a sound we grew so accustomed to in the glory years of Super Bowl titles his first time around this block?

Sadly over the last four years, there did not appear to be much mirth and precious little laughter around Redskins Park as Gibbs struggled mightily to reacquaint himself with the NFL and get the franchise back on a championship path. That road had been strewn with far more potholes than Gibbs could have imagined when he came back for a second act that, realistically, now deserves mixed reviews, at best, despite owner Daniel Snyder's insistence Tuesday that "I like where we are."

Ten weeks ago, a few days after a devastating and clearly embarrassing 52-7 loss to the New England Patriots, it was written in this space that Gibbs would be wise to walk away when the season ended. As painful as it was to type the words, it just wasn't working the second time around.

His team was reeling. They were blowing halftime leads, which hardly ever happened from 1981 to '92, when Gibbs was considered one of the all-time masters of the halftime adjustment. Clock management continued to be a major issue. The play-calling, once his greatest strength, had been yielded to an underling and often was baffling. And Gibbs, at 67, clearly seemed a step or two slower than in the glory days of his Hall of Fame first run in the Nation's Capital.

A few weeks later, the Redskins hit rock bottom at 5-7 when the coach made what he has since described as the worst gaffe, as well as the lowest point, of his entire coaching career. The two-timeout, ice-the-kicker debacle in the final seconds of an agonizing loss to the Buffalo Bills occurred the day before his grief-stricken team flew to Miami to help bury teammate Sean Taylor, who had been murdered in his South Florida home in a bungled robbery attempt.

At that point, there couldn't have been a better head coach at the helm of this team. Gibbs had always been at his very best in crisis situations. How else to explain holding his teams together to win Super Bowls in two strike-shortened seasons, or winning three of them with three different quarterbacks, a feat no coach in league history has ever accomplished?

And so, with Gibbs leading the way, the Redskins played through their sorrow and summoned the strength to rally. They won their last four games and somehow got into the playoffs before reality set in last Saturday in Seattle, and Gibbs could finally take a few moments to think about his own life and future, and what direction he wanted it to take.

Much to his credit, he chose his family over football, just as a man of his unassailable moral fiber and faith would be expected to do. He did it even though it meant walking away from a profession he has always loved, despite its often-cruel toll on the lives of anyone who takes on one of these all-consuming, sleep-on-the-office-couch jobs.