REDSKINS NATION MOURNS...

By week thirteen of the NFL season, what was once fresh becomes mundane--the weekly rhythm seems to give the schedule its own momentum: Monday-recap with press conference, Tuesday-day off + Gibbs show, etc...the past few days have been like nothing the Redskins have ever dealt with in their 75-year history.

We received an email from the team at 10:07 Monday morning letting us know Sean Taylor had been shot... there was shock, uncertainty and then hope on a rollercoaster Monday, followed by another surprise Tuesday at 6am--ESPN radio wasn't leading with "Sean Taylor is in critical condition" as had been the case all night, but Bob Piccosi led his update by saying the Redskin safety had died.

I never met Sean Taylor and did not have the opportunity to interview the 24-year old, but the gist of what I've heard about the University of Miami product can be summed up as "a very dedicated, talented professional whose personal life was turning the corner in a positive manner".

It is a tragedy anytime a young person's life ends violently. It's doubly so because, according to everything I've been told by a multitude of sources, Taylor had turned a new leaf and was on track to not just to be a great player but a fine young man. At 24 he had so many years not just with the Redskins but with his family--and do we ever get over losing somebody so young? Maryland great Len Bias died tragically at the age of 22--that moment in our lives is seven months away from it's 22nd anniversary...and many of us are still hurting on some level.

This grips me because sports is supposed to be "fun"-- an escape from reality...sudden-death overtime merely means your team is finished for the week. Elimination simply makes us turn to our hopes for next season. We turn to the sports pages and the games to avoid problems, to avoid death--and when we see somebody so young die in such a manner- there's no place else to go.

I feel for the adolescent girl who copes with his parent's divorce by rooting for a reunion between the Redskins and playoffs; I feel for the young man whose "big brother" model has been struck down. I feel for a region that won't know how to cheer for its favorite team when the games resume; I feel for kids whose #21 jersey will no longer mean the same thing.

I feel for a team and organization that has to grieve mid-stream while preparing for two games over the next nine days that are extremely crucial to something extremely unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I feel for a group of men who will be forever incomplete, a band of brothers who didn't get a chance to say goodbye to a good friend. Our pain is more abstract than those who knew Sean Taylor well.

I feel for parents who have outlived their son--and a father who made his career protecting others as a police officer but was powerless to save his child. I feel for a daughter that will never know her daddy; I feel for a young woman who won't grow old with the man of her dreams.
Our grief is window-dressing compared to what Sean Taylor's family will go through every day for the rest of their lives.

Where do we go from here? Start like we did today--by waking up and hurting just a little bit less than yesterday.