Somewhere, too, a baby unicorn just got its wings.
I've said this before -- repeatedly, in fact -- and I'll say it again: Washington, DC is the End Zone. The place where sports saviors come to die. A wing-zapping bug light to athletic promise. The good night Dylan Thomas was trying to warn us about. The nation's capital is an inescapable swamp of sporting decrepitude, the place where Alexander Ovechkin looks fat. Where Deion Sanders looked slow. Where Mark Brunell looked old. Where Donovan McNabb looked even older. Where Jeff George looked like, well, Jeff George. Where Heath Shuler was better off running for office than for first downs. Where Bruce Smith, Sack King T-Shirts remain unsold. Where Steve Spurrier will always have Osaka. Where Mitch Richmond aged faster than
But sure, Peyton Manning: pack your bags and your orthopedic surgery team and come play for the Redskins. This time, things will be different.