I was a fan of the Washington football team from the time I was a kid. Starting around 7-years-old or so. That team was in my blood. It was in the blood of every member of my family: mom, dad, brother, cousins. It was in the blood of many of my close friends. We were Washingtonians, born in the city, and even though some of us had moved to nearby Maryland or Virginia, well, D.C. would always be our home, and that football team was our first love.
Then Dan Snyder bought the franchise.
As it became clear who and what Snyder was, some hardcore fans stomached him and stayed. Others, like me, could no longer take his greed, lack of empathy for his employees (especially the women), lack of respect for the fans, and his seeming overall disregard for human beings. We left and never looked back. We were like Luke Skywalker and the rebels after the Empire took over, waiting, patiently, for our time to come, and Snyder would be gone. Then we’d leave Planet Hoth and come home.
We waited. And waited. And shook our head at the Snyder buffoonery and clownsmanship. We waited. Years went by. Decades. We waited and waited. Hoth was cold but we didn’t care. We waited. One scandal. The next. And the next. And so on, and so on. Abuses, ugliness. We waited, in the shadows, our jerseys and hats at the ready. Then, a light came from beyond. A signal from the stars. Ordained from scripture, or, Sportico.com.
Sportico reported Thursday that a group led by billionaires Josh Harris and Mitchell Rales reached ‘an agreement in principle’ to acquire the team from Snyder for about $6 billion. The NFL Network said a deal is close but not finalized.
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What seems certain is that while various groups may be jockeying, Snyder is going to be gone. I think it’s a forgone conclusion.
Thus, I have been waiting decades to say these six words, and it’s time:
DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD!
He’s gone. He’s finally gone. There is a God. I don’t even believe in God but I do now.
A close friend of mine, also born in D.C., and another Washington football team exile, texted me:
Him: ‘It’s over!’
Me: ‘I knowwwwwww.’ Except when I spoke, I was doing jumping jacks of joy.
This day should be a national holiday. It should be called: Dan Snyder Sold The Team Day. There’d be a gathering at the stadium, everyone holding candles, singing the Ding Dong song, interlocking arms, smiling and rejoicing. Darrell Green would give a speech. Doug Williams would reenact a Super Bowl moment. Riggo would tell some stories. Joe Biden would make a yearly appearance just because he was the president when it happened.
School would be canceled. Student loan debt would be canceled. Men would leave the toilet seats down. Trump would phone in congratulations from his jail cell.
Because this is the greatest moment in the history of the franchise. In the history of sports. In history of the United States. In the history of Earth. In the history of the Milky Way. In the history of the universe. Not since the Big Bang has there been news this wonderful.
Ding.
Dong.
Why so much rejoicing? Snyder is the worst owner in the modern history of American sports. It’s not even close. For most hardcore fans, he’s not just an embarrassment. He represented everything wrong with some NFL owners and, perhaps even on a larger scale, the super rich. The arrogance, the lack of care for employees, and how under his watch some truly horrendous things happened. Some of those ugly things he’s alleged to have done himself.
So many sordid occurrences happened with him as owner, they are too numerous to list. But two things mainly caused me to abandon ship. First, the horrific treatment of women by men in the organization while he owned the team. Second, his apparent disdain for fans. He gouged them constantly and, despite the fact the team was a money-making machine and he was a billionaire, he still tried to get every ounce of money he could from fans.
It was typical behavior of some super wealthy people. No amount of money is enough. He’s not the only NFL owner to behave this way, but he was the best at it.
In the end, Snyder didn’t care about anyone but himself.
Now he’s gone.
Ding.
Dong.
I want to leave you with this great work of art you may know. It goes (something) like this:
Once there was a wicked witch in the lovely land of Landover
And a wickeder, wickeder, wickeder witch there never, never was
He filled the folks in Washington land with terror and with dread
‘Till one fine day from Chevy Chase way a billionaire caught a yacht
That brought the wicked, wicked witch his doom
As he was flying on his broom
For the yacht fell on his head and the coroner pronounced his ownership dead
And thru the town the joyous news was spread
Ding-dong, the witch is dead! Which old witch? The wicked witch
Ding-dong, the wicked witch is dead
Wake up, you sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed
Wake up, the wicked witch is dead!
Goodbye, Dan.
Don’t let the door hit you, buddy.