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My 45-Point Inspection: Birthday Notes From a Lifelong Commanders Fan

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My people, in pictures

Swipe through, or let it run. It's mostly Nicole. That's on purpose.

Eight people smiling around a long wooden table by a big window, over empty plates.
Sunday lunch with my mom, my stepdad Darryl, and Nicole's mom, Chris, right next to her.
Three men leaning into the camera inside the stadium concourse, one in a Commanders jersey and cap, one older in a gray jacket, one in glasses.
Dad, in the middle, at the home opener in September.
Nicole, in a blue and orange top, crouches on the concrete floor of a bar and smiles at the camera, one hand on a black cat.
Nicole, who I call Pookie, making a friend. The cat had no opinion on the Commanders. Nobody's perfect.
Ben, in glasses and a navy UVA cap, leans in for a selfie with Nicole.
The two of us. One of us has aged gracefully. The other one is writing the captions.
A selfie high in John Paul Jones Arena: Ben, Nicole, Sam and Jason, with the lit-up floor and the crowd far below.
Me, Nicole, Sam and Jason, left to right, at JPJ for Gabriel Iglesias. Jason is a Raiders fan, and we love him anyway.
Five friends in sunglasses around a table on a sunny deck, with trees behind them.
Nicole in front, Katherine in back, and our buddies Matt and Jenny with me. Good people, good deck, good day.
Nicole stands in a Topgolf bay holding a club, the range and its target rings behind her.
Pookie at Topgolf, looking like she knows what she's doing, which makes one of us.
Nicole grins and holds a pair of aviator sunglasses on her face, against a wood-paneled wall.
Yes, Nicole again. If you've been paying attention, you know why.
Darcie, in an orange blazer, and Nicole lean together for a photo in a wood-paneled booth.
Darcie, left, Nicole's work bestie, and the reason I answer to Papi. It's explained below. It does not get better with explanation.
Five women standing shoulder to shoulder in a parking lot outside Scott Stadium on a bright, clear afternoon, most of them in navy UVA STRONG shirts. The woman on the left holds a baby in a checked outfit and a pale sun hat. The stadium and a line of trees rise behind them.
Sarah, Nicole, Sarah #2, Ann Marie and Gracelyn, plus the LAW at his first tailgate in September. Still the most composed person in any photo he's in.
A group of seven people in Commanders jerseys standing shoulder to shoulder in a wet parking lot in front of a blue tent.
Josh's crew, who broke this entire operation down in roughly four minutes. I have chosen not to ask how. The answer is that they are younger than me.

I turned 45 today. On the inside, I'm 21. Same opinions, same jokes, same unshakable belief that this is our year. On the outside, I now make a noise getting out of bed. Not a groan. A noise. Like somebody unfolding a lawn chair in the next room.

So in honor of the occasion, I took myself in for the full 45-point inspection. Joints: all of them, and every one has something to say. Heart: burgundy and gold, no notes. Judgment: still 21, still picking the Commanders in close games.

The inspection was conducted under field conditions. Saturday night, Nicole and I saw Gabriel Iglesias at JPJ with Sam and Jason, and we got home after midnight. Again. At 21, midnight was when the night got started. At 45, it's a medical event. Then Sunday was lunch with my mom and Darryl, and it was lovely, midnight or no midnight.

The Best Wife a Man Could Ask For

Nicole, who I call Pookie and who is about to find out I've told the entire internet, is the best wife a man could ask for, and I have evidence. Tonight she's taking me out to dinner, and she's also making sure I'm home on the couch for an 8:15 kickoff against the undefeated 49ers. Dinner and the Commanders, on a Monday, on my birthday. That's not a gift. That's somebody who read the entire file and approved the application anyway.

If you swiped through the pictures up top, you noticed most of them are Nicole. That's not an accident. That's the point.

The early presents came in, and every single one was Commanders-related, as God and Dan Quinn intended. Commanders hoodies. A man turns 45, and the people who love him look at him and conclude, correctly, that what he needs is more burgundy layers.

Roll Call

It's my birthday and my website, so, shoutouts. My mom and Darryl, my dad, my brother Josh, and Nicole's mom, Chris. Sam and Jason (a different Jason, a Raiders fan, and we love him anyway). Katherine, Matt and Jenny. Belle and John. All of our Charlottesville friends, and the old Lexington crew: you know who you are.

Mom and Darryl, thank you for Sunday. Lunch with you two was exactly what this birthday needed, and I love you both very much.

Dad, standing in the rain with you at the home opener is still one of my favorite days of this season. I love you very much.

Darcie, Nicole's work bestie, and her husband Ryan get their own paragraph, because Darcie calls me Papi. Back when Nicole first started at UVA, I said something to Nicole that Darcie heard as "Papi don't like that." I have been Papi ever since. I didn't pick it. I've accepted it. Darcie and Ryan, we love you both.

And Sarah, Daniel and the LAW: last month I put it in writing on the internet that we'd never let it go that long again. They invited us out yesterday, and we had too much going on, which is technically a breach. I'm told there's a grace period.

I know this is a sports site. But I'll say this plainly, once: my heart is full. I love my friends and my family so much. I'm thankful for what I have, and what I have is all of you.

To Everyone Reading This

This site is the first time I've ever put anything of my own on the internet. I figured a few friends would read it to be polite. Then it passed 5,000 visits. Some of you have been here since August, some of you found it this week, and some of you keep coming back, which means you have voluntarily chosen to spend more time thinking about this team. I see you. Thank you.

And to my readers outside the US, of which there are far more than I ever expected, including a frankly alarming number of you in Switzerland: please, one of you, write in and tell me your Commanders story. How does a person in Switzerland end up like this? I need to know. If nobody writes in, I will find you. I won't, because the site very deliberately can't. But I'll think about you very hard.

Tonight it's dinner, then the couch, then the 49ers. I'll be 45 in the chair and 21 everywhere else, yelling at a television like it can hear me. It never could. Not even the CRT. Hail.

Reading from outside the US? Say hello from wherever you are. Reading from anywhere at all? There's Roll Call, and I read every one.

Call your shot

What's your number for the 49ers?

Ben's number: Commanders 17, 49ers 16.

Your turn What's the best Commanders gift you've ever gotten? Answer it, argue with me, or ask me anything else. Anonymous is fine. Send it to Wire Taps →

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