A chicken at FedEx Field
There were countless Santas at Monday night's Redskins game, but that's to be expected. Every NFL stadium hosts countless Santas during the last home game before Christmas. One even got to ride around on the field in a golf cart during halftime. I think I saw one feeble snowball tossed in his direction, but we'll chalk that up to the visiting Giants fans.
(There were also countless cheerleaders dressed in those weird Santa outfits. For a borderline pornographic example of what the cheerleaders looked like, check out the image Getty moved. It's below, after the jump. Hide the children.)
Anyhow, while red hats were everywhere, I saw just one man dressed like a chicken. (Not counting any oversized running backs throwing haymakers at undersized cornerbacks.) So as the game got increasingly out of hand, I announced to the press box that I was leaving to interview the chicken.
The chicken quickly accepted my interview request, without seeming to know what I wanted to ask him about. I pointed out he was dressed as a chicken.
"Yeah," he agreed.
"Uh, Why?" I asked.
"Why?" he repeated. "Uh, I don't know. I'm a Jets fan, so I wanted to be neutral tonight. So I came out to support just a good game."
Now, reporters often go to games feeling neutral, and yet I've never seen one dress like a chicken. Or like any fowl, really, though I'd hope the Washington Times guys might consider it before their shop goes kaboom. And in fact, the chicken--who came down from New York with some Giants fans--seemed noticeably happier when the visitors did well. Damn fair weather chickens.
I had been asking Redskins fans what they thought about the Cerrato-for-Allen switch, so, running out of questions, I figured I might as well ask the chicken.
"I guess changes needed to be made," he said. "I think Snyder's got to go, first of all, and I'm not even a Redskins fan. He's a good businessman, but he's not good for football. They need a guy like Bill Parcells, to come in and get things straight, as an unbiased fan."
"An unbiased chicken," I corrected him.
"An unbiased chicken," he acknowledged.
Still, I said, it was odd to hear truth from someone dressed like a chicken.
"I feel bad, actually, for Redskins fans," the chicken said. "Because they're one of the most valuable franchises in the NFL. But they just continue, year after year, to not get things done. There seems to be no future. Every year, things get worse or they stay the same. There's no potential for growth, no Next year will be our year."
The chicken was depressing the hell out me by this point, so I got up to leave. He said he got the suit at a costume store, that it was extremely warm, that this was the third time he had worn it, following a Jets game and a Halloween party. He also said he hoped it could becoming his calling card.
"Like the pigs," he continued, gesturing toward the Hogettes. Sure, whatever, the pigs. Come to think of it, the chicken seemed a lot more normal than the pigs.
Anyhow, in the interest of Washington Post journalism, his real name was Paul Sullivan, and he was 22.
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