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One fan's view, yesterday to today


pvkeeper19

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I hate to say it, but I went to bed feeling like Sean wasn't going to make it through the night. I was encouraged—perhaps because I simply wanted to believe—by the rumors of his improvement, but it seemed too much to ask for him to come back from such a horrific injury. Realistically, that kind of blood loss is almost certain to be fatal. When I read the news this morning, I was heartbroken, but I can't say I was surprised after hearing the reports on his condition.

The American College of Surgeons has a four-step scale for describing the severity of hemorrhage. With a severed femoral artery, as Sean was reported to have suffered, the victim has around five minutes before exsanguination, which is the loss of the majority of the body's circulating blood volume. This is described as a Class IV hemorrhage, and is associated with kidney failure, loss of brain function, and death. It is unlikely that fewer than five minutes elapsed between the wound and the paramedics' arrival, which means the deck was stacked against Sean from thee start. Though they were able to reach him before he passed away (and were able to resuscitate him later on, depending on which account you hear), it would have been miraculous if he had recovered.

My dad worked in the emergency room at the UVA hospital in his younger days, and because of some of the horrific injuries he had treated and told me about, I was afraid for Sean and his family. One of the most vivid images I remember him describing (disclaimer—the faint of heart may wish to skip the rest of this paragraph) was of a strapping young construction worker who had been run over at the waist by a bulldozer. Among other injuries, one of his femoral arteries was severed and he was losing blood as fast as they could transfuse more into him. By the time they finally stabilized the man, he was in a coma caused by lack of oxygen to the brain. Though he survived several more weeks, he never woke up again, and the nurses were distraught as they watched the handsome, athletic man waste away as his muscles atrophied.

For this reason, maybe it's better than Sean didn't live a longer life of suffering. Even Leonard Sharpstein said doctors admitted that Sean was likely to have sustained brain damage and other adverse effects if he survived. At least this way, Sean's suffering was limited, and his family didn't have to watch his strong, athletic young frame wither away until the eventual end. Had he survived, Sean's quality of life would have been terrible. It was a miracle he made it as long as he did, judging by the severity of his injuries, and that was no doubt due to his superior cardiovascular wellness. At least his family had a chance to see him alive one last time.

Neil Young wrote, "It's better to burn out than fade away," and in this sense, I think it rings especially true. Because Sean didn't go through a protracted period of pain and suffering, we as fans will never have to see him as anything other than Superman, and his family will not incur the medical expenses of trying in vain to keep him alive or the pain of hoping in vain that one day he'll wake up. It might make it easier for some of us to come to terms with this tragedy to think that Sean was his old self right up until he passed away.

That’s how I, at least, will attempt to gain leverage as I wrestle with this sad news.

It's a tragic event, and it goes without saying that as a human being I would feel so distraught to hear about the loss of a fellow human's life. But I feel more than that. Maybe it's because of the huge role the Redskins, and by extension the team's players, have played in my life. That's a pretty selfish reason to be sorry, but it's the only way I as a fan can really relate to Sean: he was an integral part of the football team that, however ultimately trivial, means so much to me. My loss is nothing compared to that of Sean’s parents, fiancée, daughter, teammates, family, and friends, and I know that. But neither is it insignificant. Some of my earliest and greatest memories are of this team and its players, and no matter what’s wrong in my life, I can tune in to the game on Sunday afternoon and enjoy myself, win or lose, for a few hours. The Redskins have a great cathartic effect on me. Since I can’t return the favor to them, the least I can do is to hope that the people involved in the organization prosper and succeed. It hurts me to watch the team hurt, and it hurts me to see the void Sean’s death leaves in their life, as well as mine to a much lesser extent.

I don’t feel I have to justify my feelings to the people who accuse some fans of overreacting. For them, a response this emotional to this event would be an overreaction, but that’s because they haven’t invested their emotions in this team the way other of us have. Maybe it sounds silly to those people, and maybe it is silly, but the fact is that I and many of the members of this board and the Redskins community do feel that connection to the team. That’s why we include ourselves in the fans’ “we” used to describe the team: we feel that, in the tiniest way, after all the hours and dollars and emotions we have invested, we are part of the team. And that’s why we hurt so badly over the death of a man most of us have never met.

For the next several days, WE Redskins—players, coaches, staff, and fans—mourn together. And Sunday, when WE play the Bills, WE will begin the healing process as WE come together and share the game WE love which Sean loved with US.

Hail.

:logo:

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