Hello Redskins faithful! Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Keely and I’ll be joining Hogs Haven as the resident fan lady.
Like everyone else, I’ve been fixated on RG3 since the day we traded three first-round picks, a second-rounder, Snyder’s spare kidney, and Shanahan’s first born (smell ya later Kyle!) to move up to the second pick in this year’s draft. And last week, I did what any reasonable Skins fan would do—I watched the Baylor pro day live on ESPN 3. At work.
Naturally Jaws was there and, never at a loss for hyperbole, called Griffin’s performance "phenomenal," "spectacular," and "exceptional." But this time, I had to agree with him. For the next few hours, all seemed right with the world. I sat at my desk, happily flip-flopping back and forth between my actual work and my daydreams of RG3 hoisting the Lombardi Trophy in burgundy and gold.
That afternoon, like other feel-good moments in the history of Redskins fandom, quickly gave way to more ominous developments. Stupid Merril Hoge had to go and tell the Colts to draft RG3 instead of Luck. Not far behind was NFL Films’ Greg Cosell, touting Griffin as a "superior arm talent and natural passer." Wait, what? No! Nooooooo.
Don’t get me wrong, Luck killed it at his pro day, too. A lot of people, including smart draft person Todd McShay, still think Luck is the superior QB prospect and that the Colts will take him at number one. He’s clearly the more Manning-esque of the two, so it would make sense for them to draft him. Just like it would make sense for Washington to plug RG3 into our West Coast offense.
But to be clear, if the Redskins had the first pick, I’d still want us to take Griffin because he fits our system better and because he’s cooler. There, I said it. RG3 is so much cooler than Andrew Luck. Look at their names! "RG3" sounds like a sports car. It has a number for goodness sake. "Andrew Luck" sounds like boring.
Need more convincing? Don’t worry, I’m prepared. Mr. Griffin is cool because he’s smarter than me. He earned his bachelor’s in three years and has already made progress on his master’s degree. He’s a track star talented enough to compete in the Olympic trials. He wears awesome socks. (Editorial note: I happen to be quite a crazy sock aficionado, which further proves that Robert and I are meant to be. His fiancé? Minor bump in the otherwise wide-open road to lifelong bliss.)
And last, but not least, he was rapping "Juicy" by Notorious B.I.G. while throwing laser-accurate passes in front of a crowd of NFL big shots (fast-forward to 33:40). That’s right, folks. He knows the words to my favorite song.
It was all a dream, indeed.
Hey Colts, you better not wake me up.