Blog

A Case of the Mondays: So Nobody Won

On Thursday I called it with the caps lock on: COMMANDERS 24, GIANTS 20. "We keep it close, per usual, and then we pull away." Final score: Commanders 27, Giants 27. So, for the record, we did pull away. And we did keep it close. I just had them in the wrong order.

We'll get to Sunday. We have to get to Sunday. But first, the two parts of the weekend that went right.

The Undercard

Thursday was Weird Al at John Paul Jones Arena. You may remember that my entire Weird Al catalog going in was "Amish Paradise" and "Fat." He played both. My two-song set list went two for two, which makes Weird Al the only professional I watched all weekend who finished what he started.

Saturday night, Syracuse came to Scott Stadium under the lights, and Virginia won 28-25. Nicole worked the President's Box, and I helped out, by which I mean I ate. It was close, it was late, and it was a stupidly fun night, and Virginia closed it out.

We got home at midnight and went to bed at one, which at our age is a medical event. Then Sunday it poured. We'd talked about Buffalo Wild Wings, and our bar friends there actually checked in to ask if we were alive. We were, technically. We got on the couch, stayed on the couch, and did not do a lot of anything. Washington, it turns out, was saving that move for overtime.

For Just Under 70 Minutes

Here's what I want you to remember before I ruin it. Jayden Daniels came back from a dislocated elbow, in a brace, in the rain, and was the best player on the field. He went 17 for 25 for 199 yards, ran nine times for 103 more, and scored on runs of 38 and 26 yards. After the 26-yarder, he threw the two-point conversion to Terry McLaurin, one of our five hamstrings, and it was 27-13 in the fourth quarter. I made a noise on that couch that I'm not proud of.

And the elbow held up. Last week somebody on r/Commanders wrote Jayden a letter on his elbow's behalf: if you throw a pick, don't try to tackle the dude. He didn't throw a pick. He didn't tackle anybody. The elbow did everything that was asked of it. Nobody thought to write a letter from the clock.

Then Jameis Winston threw two 17-yard touchdowns in the fourth, the second one to Malik Nabers with 1:43 left, and we were going to overtime. At 1:10 that afternoon, Chris had typed in the group chat, "I don't care who he plays for, I will always love Jameis," and I'd agreed, because he's such a maniac. We stand by it. We're just not happy about it.

Overtime was a mess on both sides. The Giants' kicker missed his third field goal of the day. We took a delay of game penalty, which, in hindsight, was the trailer. Then, right after the two-minute warning, with the Giants already in field goal range, John Harbaugh decided not to kneel and kick. He handed it to Cam Skattebo instead, and Daron Payne, whose knee I was worried about back in September, ripped the ball out. Washington ball, 1:55 to go, needing a field goal to win.

We got into field goal range.

The Last 55 Seconds

With 1:02 left, Jayden hit Treylon Burks, who got out of bounds at the Giants' 26. That's a 43-yard field goal. No timeouts. Then they ran Rachaad White for two yards, and the clock kept running, because that's what clocks do. The play ended with 55 seconds left.

The next snap was with 12 seconds left.

Take a second with that. I needed several. Forty-three seconds of game clock, in field goal range, with the game on the line, and a professional football team spent all of it running exactly zero plays. The play was supposed to be a quick throw to Ben Sinnott on the left, and if he wasn't open, throw it away. Jayden did neither. He shuffled around the backfield and went down at the 24, and the clock hit zero while guys were still trying to line up for a spike that never came.

The spike is the easiest play in football. It's a grown man throwing a ball at the ground. Toddlers run it unprompted.

Less than a day earlier, I'd watched a college team close out a three-point game. It looked easy. It looked, honestly, like something you could do in your sleep.

Dan Quinn slammed his headset down on the sideline, which was the most correct thing anyone on our side did in the final minute. Add one more name to Wednesday's injury report: Game clock (awareness). Did not practice.

Dan Quinn

I'm an optimistic guy. I'm going to be hard on him anyway, and it's going to be uncomfortable for both of us.

Back in September, somebody asked Quinn about his job security, and his answer, lightly cleaned up for the blog, was "What are you going to actually [bleep] do about it?" I said somebody should put it on a shirt and I'd buy the first one. Coach, I have an answer for you now. Clock it.

After the game, Quinn said the right call was to "clock it early," and "That's my responsibility, nobody else's." He's right on both counts, which is the problem. Everybody watching knew the right call. My couch knew the right call. The head coach is the one person in the building whose entire job, in that exact moment, is to say it on the sideline at 55 seconds instead of at the podium afterward.

And it cost more than one game. Dallas lost Thursday. The Eagles found a way to lose in London. A win puts us in a three-way tie with both of them at 2-3. The whole NFC East held the door open, and we stood in the doorway talking it over.

I've watched this team for more than thirty years. I've seen every way there is to lose a football game. Sunday, we came up with a new way to not win one.

Pro Football Talk called it a fireable offense before most of us had stopped yelling. I'm not there. But Monday night in San Francisco is next, then a bye, and that's two weeks for this coaching staff to show us this was a one-time thing. The clock, as he now knows, is running.

About Jayden

I love Jayden Daniels. Hold onto that for this whole section.

But wow, y'all.

His legs got us into range, and then his feet couldn't get us out of the play. There were two options, Sinnott or throw it away, and "throw it away" exists for exactly this moment. This is his third season. He knew we had no timeouts. Everybody in Landover knew we had no timeouts.

Afterward he said "Just gotta be better," and "ultimately, it's on me." Those are the right words, and I believe him, and I'd like to never need them again. A franchise quarterback can be a little wrong about a lot of things. He can't be wrong about the clock.

Magic Johnson, who owns a piece of this team and has five NBA championships, posted that he was "in total disbelief." Magic, welcome to the fanbase. Some of us have been in total disbelief since 1992.

The Group Chat

Chris called it at 2:11 p.m., while we were winning: "This game has heartbreak all over it."

Then the fourth quarter happened. At 4:13, Jason typed, "lol I can't believe we're going to lose this game." At 4:14, I typed, "We're not losing baby." We were both right, which turned out to be the worst possible outcome.

At 4:25, Jason admitted that he almost never believes we've won a game, "but when Jayden scored his last TD, I emotionally marked this as a win." I told him this builds character. A minute later he typed "MISSED!!!!!!" about a Giants field goal that hadn't happened yet on my TV. I had to tell him, "Ok Jason I can't talk to you now. You're in the future." He said, "Ok sorry. I'm going."

Chris, who tries very hard not to blame the refs, said, "I try not to blame calls but this is bad." I'm leaving it there. I spent my ref paragraph in London.

By 4:35, Jason was calling the Giants "the worst 4-1 team I've ever seen." They are not 4-1. They're 3-1-1. Nobody in the group chat predicted anything correctly all day, except Chris, at 2:11.

Then the last 55 seconds. Chris: "We are idiots." Jason: "How on earth." Chris again: "Fire Dan Quinn." At 4:51, Jason found the words: "I have no words for what I just watched other than we are the only team who would ever do that." At 4:52, I contributed "Dudes," and then, "I can't."

At 5:20, Jason was still stunned. At 8:52, he checked back in: "(Still stunned)." At 10:27, Chris replied: "Same." That's the whole review.

Jason, who called London right and then called this one for us, finished the week 1-0-1, which is a record I didn't know a man could have.

So Nobody Won

Remember Jason's backyard pond, where the eagle made the bird drop the fish back in the water, "so everyone won"? Sunday was the sequel. The Giants had the fish. Daron Payne knocked it loose. We had the fish for 43 seconds, and then it went back in the pond. So nobody won.

The Giants celebrated it like a playoff win. They're 3-1-1 and in first place. We're 1-3-1 and in last. John Harbaugh said it was "a heck of a lot better than a loss, but it's not as good as a win," which is the most accurate thing anyone said all day, and it came from the other sideline.

This morning Jason said he was madder about this one than he was about London, and I told him what I'll tell you: this could not have been more gift wrapped. Usually everything goes wrong for us. This time everything went right, and we still only managed a tie.

The stickers, by the way, didn't arrive Saturday. Somewhere out there is a truck carrying five Burgundy Wire stickers, in range of my house, running out the clock.

On Sunday, Jason said he hates a season being over by Halloween. Buddy, it's not over. It's tied. Next up is Monday night in San Francisco, then a bye week this team has never needed more. I'll have a number for you before kickoff. This time I'm leaving room for overtime.

Hail.