I was born in Arlington, VA, and lived in Alexandria until the ripe old age of six. Some of my earliest memories were watching Redskins football games with my parents, in the glory days of QB Billy Kilmer and coach George Allen. I also remember owning back then a white sweatshirt with the classic Redskins "R" helmet logo, a shirt that might be worth a buck or two these days, even if it did have adolescent drool all over it.
I grew up in coastal Oregon and was the only fan of the Redskins I knew. I clung to my identity as a Redskins fan living on a former Native American reservation surrounded by fans of the 49ers, Steelers, Chargers, Broncos, Raiders.
I didn't think about the fundamentally offensive name of my favorite team until about five years ago. Now I'm a bit sad that the push to get the team to change its name seems to be highly improbable.
My inner conflict is: Will my team still be my team even with a different name?
Washington Post sportswriter Mike Wise got it right in September when he wrote that the "Last Word on 'Redskins' Is Not Ours". I interpret "Ours" to mean "Americans of European descent."
Alas, I'll get over a name change, if it ever were to happen. It's only a game.