Living in New Hampshire and being a Redskins fan is like being a lion living in Alaska. Once in awhile I will come across someone that is a fan or once was. The last decade has been brutal, watching the Patriots dominate the NFL while my team is looked at as a joke. To make matters worse, my best friend is a Giants fan. Every year, my soul is filled with hope that this is the year we return to greatness. Every year I am let down. Gibbs brought back some hope, but that hope was short-lived and turned out to be only a mirage. I am a stout fan of the Celtics, Red Sox and Bruins, so people often ask me how I became a Redskins fan. Most of you won't care, but this is my first post and I wanted to share my story.

The year was 1988. I was in 6th grade. I had never been a football fan before. The Super Bowl was right around the corner. A friend of mine in my class wanted to bet on the Super Bowl. He liked the Denver Broncos. He wanted to bet a dollar. I figured why not, so I bet him. I took the Washington Redskins.

It was love at first sight. Watching Doug Williams launching the ball deep down the sideline was the best piece of art I had ever seen. Watching that game was like a near death experience. I saw the light. It was beautiful. I soon became obsessed. By eight grade I owned over 50 Redskins shirts. I had a ritual in which every game day I would take all of my Redskins paraphernalia and decorate my parents living room. I would set up a shrine. I would have blankets hanging from walls, signs, posters, figurines, all my clothes (both worn and strewn about), and anything else that wore the Redskins logo or name, including pencils that I would meticulously place in a spot that would bring luck. Art Monk surpassed my mom as my hero (my mom would eventually take her position back). Needless to say, to this day, I take a lot of heat from my friends. And I don't care one bit.

Being a Redskins fan is a privilege that should not be ignored. We are Redskins Nation. We are the most prideful fans in all the world. Yes we may have been hurt year in and year out for many, many years. Does it matter? No. Every year is a brand new beginning. At this time every year, I turn back into that 12 year old boy, my heart pounding, my eyes bulging, hoping to see a team that resembles that Super Bowl team led by Doug Williams. Wishing that a new Art Monk would rise and conquer my spirit. This is the time of the year that we all look forward to. I may not have over 50 Redskin shirts anymore, but now I've got my Chris Cooley black jersey, my Redskins socks, Direct TV Sunday Ticket, and the giddiness of a little school girl.This is our year. And if not this year, then next.