The Mighty

As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)

By Ronald N. Guy Jr.

Good gracious fellow occupants of this fantastic southern peninsula on Maryland’s western shore.  There is lot going on.  Good news.  Bad news.  All of it big news.  Major seismic waves are reverberating across the hinterland.  Tectonic shifts are shaking the earth under our feet.  Whatever the world was, it is no longer – for good or ill.  Group therapy and celebration are both in order.  Let’s review, eh? 

Baltimore fans: Are you okay?  The range of emotions…intense.  One day you’re on the Super Bowl train with Lamar Jackson and the white-hot Ravens; the next minute, about three hours after Andy Reid, Patrick Mahomes, Travis Kelce, Taylor Swift and the rest the contingent of the Kansas City football team (that for some reason is still very much allowed to use its native American imagery, nickname and embarrassing chants) took the field at M&T Bank Stadium, all was lost.  Completely.  Forever.  All dreams…dead.  All crabs less than five inches in diameter.  No rockfish biting.  All National Bohemian kegs empty.  Absolute disaster.  Even Francis Scott Key would have had writer’s block and no sense of rhythm.

But then those Birds came out of nowhere with sunshine and bushels of Old Bay dowsed crabs.  They sold!  The Orioles sold!  Peter Angelos’s reign of terror is over!  And Cal Ripken Jr. is part of the new ownership group.  Simply amazing…and so, so deserved.  The future is blinding bright for this young team.  Ownership was the great threat; no more.  And if the off-the-field news wasn’t good enough, on the diamond, the O’s fleeced the Brewers in acquiring Corbin Burnes, an elite arm to ride during deep October runs.  Losing the AFC Championship at home is not ideal, but this isn’t a bad psychological tonic.  Pitchers and catcher report in a few weeks.  Start getting loose.

Regarding the emotional instability of sports fans, a cruise down I-295 from Charm City to D.C. will reveal another bunch who are dutifully losing their minds.  The hiring of Dan Quinn as the new Commanders head coach landed like a second helping of lima beans from a well-intended parent.  In a word, ugh.  Quinn, a middle-age, defensive re-tread head coach who lost a Super Bowl (sound familiar?), is not the young, offensive genius the burgundy and gold mob preferred (see Ben Johnson of Detroit or Bobby Slowik of Houston). 

But neither Quinn, nor his hiring, deserved this.  How quickly we forget.  Not so long ago, had you told Commanders fans that in February 2024 they would have a new ownership group (that included Magic Johnson!), a highly respected General Manager with full roster control, an experienced head coach and the promise of a shiny, new franchise quarterback, awkward euphoria would have been the response.  Embarrassing high-pitched squeals, involuntary dancing, maybe even a long awkward hug would have marked the moment.  Mind and body would have operated with uncontrolled blissful independence.  And now that the names have started to fill in, we…me…all of us…have slipped into the dark vortex of Washington football and reverted to our deeply ingrained defeatist mentality.

What are we thinking?  Quinn doesn’t deserve this.  He’s being treated like the second coming of Jim Zorn or Steve Spurrier.  Sheesh.  We need a professional, here.  Someone paid to listen to our madness and capable of reprogramming.  Lacking a couch to work through this habitual negativity, a song will have to do.  The obvious artist?  Bob Dylan.  The obvious song, The Mighty Quinn.  Sing the chorus 10 times, fellow D.C. fans: “Come all without, come all within, you’ll not see nothing like The Mighty Quinn!”  Repeat as necessary; add a drink for maximum therapeutic effect.

What, then, to take from this summary screed of recent local sports happenings?  Much, me thinks.  In 70 words or less, that life will toy with your plans and introduce the unexpected – sometimes good, sometimes bad.  The trick: gratefully acknowledge the former and process the latter knowing that life often provides pick-me-ups after kicking you in the teeth.  And if emotions run raw after old scabs are picked, that it’s best to breathe first and remain steady – perhaps with an assist from a song.