Redskins Aren’t Nearly as Long, Sharp of Tooth

Historically, and sometimes hysterically, the Washington Redskins have been the sort of football team that strikes fear into other folks’ hearts. Accurate or not, the Redskins always have seemed to employ a roster full of craggy, crusty cutthroats, lame of leg and gray of temple, who enjoy nothing more than whipping the devil out of some young National Football League whippersnappers. You would swear that every other Redskin is 37 years old.

Images form of Billy Kilmer, wobbling completed passes all over the field, looking as though he didn’t own enough dexterity to scramble away from an old granny. Or how about Sonny Jurgensen, dropping back to fling bombs with a paunch that suggested he spent most of training camp doing calisthenics inside of a Styrofoam cooler.

Even John Riggins, while not appearing all that old, brought to the game the type of personality that led one to believe he would personally rip the fuzz off of the cheeks of anyone under 25 years old who dared try to tackle him. When not busy plowing for touchdowns, Riggins occasionally occupied his time by shaving the sides of his head, or by taking a nap in a tuxedo near a Supreme Court Justice’s ankles.

Confronting the Washington Redskins has never been much fun. Around the NFL, their stadium, RFK, now and then has been regarded by names that have nothing to do with Robert F. Kennedy’s initials, it being a terrifying place to spend a day, a Grand Guignol for guys who play ball. “RFK” has been known to guarantee something else to unsuspecting visitors, the first word being “Royal.”

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Good thing for those who go there that many of the old coots have parted company with the Redskins. Mark Moseley, the kicker who now does his thing for the Cleveland Browns, made a point the other day of condemning Redskin management for getting rid of “us old guys,” meaning gentlemen such as Riggins and himself. He also included quarterback Joe Theismann among the exiled, but that was inconsiderate, seeing as how it was a mangled leg that sent Theismann off to join Cathy Lee Crosby in becoming D.C.’s greatest fun couple since Wilbur Mills and Fanne Foxe.

Do the Redskins retain any vestiges of the olden days? Yes, one. His name is David Butz, alias “Pumpkin Head,” who, when he goes into his stance on the Washington line, often resembles a DC-10 about to take off. “He’s the only one of the old gang still around,” Moseley said the other day. “They’ve really broken up that old gang of mine.”

And yet, there are those who still consider the Redskins so rough and so tough, particularly at home, that a worthy opponent will have no chance against them in a kill-or-be-killed situation such as the NFL playoffs. Without regard to a season record of 10-6 and to victories as distinguished as the only beating the mighty Bears have taken in Chicago in two years, the Rams, it would seem, have been given little chance to whip Washington in the NFC wild-card game scheduled today.

There is talk of the Rams entering the playoffs on a downer, having lost their last two games, or of their quarterback being too young, too raw, to be able to handle the rowdy Redskins at RFK. No one seems inclined to note that those last two failures came in overtime to Miami and on the road against San Francisco, neither of which should be remembered as disgraceful. And how old is Washington’s quarterback, Jay Schroeder? Is he a Kilmer? Is he a Theismann? Good, yes, but experienced? He started to shave not long before Jim Everett did.

These savage Redskins are hardly at full strength, either. Gary Clark, their most able pass-catcher, has a sprained ankle, and Kelvin Bryant, their swift and shifty running back, has a bruised kidney. All-Pro defensive end Dexter Manley, a character so monstrous it might take Sigourney Weaver to stop him, intends to play in today’s game on a very swollen foot.

Manley is out of the old Washington mold. Recently the Redskins were about to play a team with a famous running back. Manley was quoted as saying they needed to knock this fellow out of the game--as in hurt the man, so he could no longer run. When these words of wickedness appeared in print, the famous running back’s fans howled murder.

Manley decided to deny the threat. Next morning, he went looking for the man who had made him sound like some sort of bounty hunter. “I never said that stuff!” Manley said, looking down, ferociously, at the recorder of his deed.

“Dexter, would you like to hear the tape?” the reporter asked.

“Yeah!” Manley roared.

The man fished into a satchel. He scrounged for his cassette player.

“You better take something out of there besides your hand!” Manley warned.

Out came the recorder and a set of earphones, which Manley strapped around his head. For half a minute, he listened to the sound of his own voice.

“Oops,” Manley suddenly said.

He took off the headset.

“Well, if I said it, I said it,” Manley said, and stalked out of the room.

It was a Washington Redskin scene in microcosm. Face to face with one of these ferocious Redskins, danger does seem imminent. But when you get right down to it, if you hold your ground, if you come right back at ‘em with everything you have got, they can, once in a while, be handled. Maybe the Rams should be reminded of that.