(670 The Score) Growing up, a neighborhood friend of mine – let’s call him Cal – was as big a football fan as I’ve ever seen. He lived and breathed Washington Football. No transaction was too paltry to discuss, no mock draft too premature to dissect. For the longest time, he didn’t care if it was Trent Green (or Brad Johnson or Tony Banks or Shane Matthews or Patrick Ramsey or Jason Cambell or Rex Grossman or Donovan McNabb or RG3) under center – Cal would get up on Sunday mornings, throw on his Sean Taylor jersey and gear up for the 18-mile journey from Arlington, Virginia to the FedEx Field parking lots.
The thing about driving 18 miles through D.C., though, is that it sucks. Every mile sucks. There's traffic leaving Arlington and traffic when you cross the bridges to get into the city and traffic in the city once you cross the bridges. Not many people know this, but the fourth circle of Hell in Dante’s Inferno is actually just the Beltway. There’s more than enough congestion to break a soul or at the very least an old carȁ