I’ve been passionately, emotionally involved with the yearly doings of the Washington Redskins (American football for those of you who ignore sports) since the 1950’s. Pop, you see, had only sisters and only daughters; and, as the younger of the latter, it became my thing to watch–and play–sports with him.

Eddie LeBaron, the Little General, led the team back then–mostly to nowhere. In truth, except for two bright epochs under George Allen in the ’70’s and Joe Gibbs first tenure (’81 through ‘92), the Redskins have not done very well. Some years, in fact, they’ve been terrible.

But my passionate hope, belief, and loyalty to this team-as well as my forgiveness of its screw-ups–has never wavered. What I felt for the Redskins was for years, I think, the closest I came to unconditional love. After all, loving a football team was a pretty safe thing to do. The most hurtful thing it could do to me was lose a game or blow a season. When I was drinking and using, however, loving people was a pretty fearsome thing, and so I’m not sure I ever loved them quite as unconditionally as I loved the Redskins.

Sobriety has changed me. The more solid, less fearful I become as a person, the less concerned I am about getting hurt. Loving someone else now feels like a gift in itself. As for fear, most of the time I know down to my toes that as long as I don’t drink or use and I keep working those Steps, I’m going to be just fine, and so I have nothing to be afraid of. As sober time passed, I also noticed that once I took fear out of my heart, love just moved on in and made itself at home.

So, life is richer and better and more interesting today, because I’m no longer afraid to let go and love others pretty much unconditionally. Others, that is, along with the Redskins. . .