I have for a long time, and still do, believe that the death of Washington Redskins safety Sean Taylor is one of the most overlooked sports tragedies in recent memory.
When Taylor was gunned down on November 27, 2007, the Redskins did not just lose a starting safety. They lost a player who was one of the game’s best defensive backs despite being just 24. They lost a guy who was just beginning to sniff his unlimited potential. They lost a cornerstone who could have helped deliver Redskins fans a Super Bowl trophy were he still alive. And they lost a really good man who was coming into his own in his personal life.
When people say “that guy was born to play football,” they mean guys like Sean Taylor. Have you ever seen his high school highlight tape? I’ve never seen anything like it; Taylor played wide receiver, running back, safety, and linebacker, and you get the sense he could’ve gone to college and played any of them. Theterm “natural” doesn’t begin to describe it; God made Sean Taylor to play football.
Taylor would go on to play at “The U,” where other standout Skins Santana Moss and Clinton Portis starred. He won a national title as a freshman, and his junior year stats are numbers that cause people to do a double take: 77 tackles, nation-leading 10 interceptions, three pick sixes, Big East Defensive Player of the Year and unanimous All-American. Those stats are simply not normal.
After being drafted in 2004, Taylor immediately impacted the Redskins defense. It was not uncommon to see a #21 jersey chasing down a running back in the backfield on one play, then running step for step with a receiver thirty yards downfield the next. To put it simply, Taylor did things most safeties could not dream of.
In his pre-draft evaluation of the defensive back, Herman Edwards said, “If he works at it, he can be one of the better safeties because he has the God-given talent.” Teammates nicknamed him “Meast,” half man, half beast. He immediately endeared himself to Redskins fans, including me, thanks to his range in the secondary, penchant for de-cleating receivers, and quiet yet confident demeanor. He was a once in a generation type talent, and we were simply lucky to have him.
His first few years were full of high points and low points: off field arrests, ejections for spitting on players, and penalties were sprinkled in amongst the Sundays in which he would spend his time residing in the opposition’s backfield or hanging out in the secondary, daring receivers and quarterbacks to try and enter his territory. But 2007 was different. 2007 was the year he began to put the pieces together, and 2007 was the year he would solidify himself as one of the league’s best overall players. And then, just like that, he was gone.
To me, the period between the time he was shot and the time he died is one of those “Where were you when…” moments. I know every Redskins fan can recall what they were doing. I was in middle school and remembered seeing it on TV in Mr. Carmi’s class. And I remember the next morning, walking downstairs to my mom with tears in her eyes reading the newspaper, when she told me he died.
Sean Taylor was a superhuman, a gladiator, an invincible player. I neverexpected anything to happen to him. No one did. Which is why it hit Redskins fans so hard. He was our favorite player, our idol, someone to look up to and who gave us joy every week. People may ask “How can you cry over the loss of someone you never met, never knew?” And I get that. But we mourned the loss of Sean Taylor because he was one of our own, a player who wore the team’s colors with pride, and a person who was maturing before our very eyes. We loved Sean and we couldn’t wait to see where he would end up. Yet he was taken from his daughter, from his family, and from those who cheered him in an instant; his potential left unfulfilled.
Everyone remembers what happened next. The league brought out ’21’ helmet decals, the Redskins wore patches on their jersey, and the games went on. The team lost in utterly heartbreaking fashion to the Bills, following an utterly heart breaking pre game tribute. But then, something crazy happened. The team began to win.
Jason Campbell got hurt against the Bears, and Todd Collins came in, who at the time seemed like the most unskilled player in the NFL. But the team banded together. Four straight wins culminated in a 27-6 victory over the Cowboys, where the 21 point margin of victory still gives me chills today. It was fitting that Taylor’s two best friends, Moss and Portis, were instrumental in the team’s success. The magic would run out in the playoffs against Seattle, but the resilience the team showed after their brother’s death is something I’ll always look back on with the fondest of memories.
Speaking from a strictly football standpoint, replacing Sean Taylor was an impossible task from the start. The struggles at safety the Redskins have encountered are still prevalent to this day. It hasn’t been a revolving door, it’s been like a nightly motel. Guys come, stay a bit, then leave. I firmly, always have, and always will believe that Sean Taylor would’ve gone on to be the best safety in NFL history, which is why, as fans, we get anxious whenever a new safety comes in: OJ Atogwe, Brandon Meriweather, Bacarri Rambo, Phillip Thomas, and many, many others are all guys who have come in and disappointed us with their performance. Yes, they weren’t the best of players, but Sean Taylor didn’t simply leave big shoes to fill; he left a whole closet. He set the bar so high that anyone after him is bound to fail.
From 2004-2007, with Taylor playing safety, the Redskins average finish in total points allowed was 13th and yards allowed/game was 12th. Since his death, they have averaged a 20th place finish in total points allowed and 17th in yards allowed/game (stats courtesy of NFL.com). In a league where 12 teams make the playoffs, these numbers reveal the Redskins had a borderline playoff defense with Taylor and have a very mediocre one without him.
How different would the Seahawks look if Richard Sherman were suddenly taken from their defense? What would happen if you took away Jamal Charles from the Chiefs offense? The long-term impact of losing the undisputed best player on one side of the ball is nothing short of devastating. The Redskins have oft been criticized for not building a winner, and in recent years, having a bad defense. These reviews are mostly deserved, but stop and think for a second: How can a team be expected to build a winner when one of the biggest pieces of their foundation is pulled out in a moment’s notice?
When the Redskins take the field this Sunday against the Jaguars, FedEx Field’s stands will be littered with RGIII, Orakpo, and Kerrigan jerseys. But there will still be a large chunk of fans wearing various Taylor apparel, too. There’ll be some #21 jerseys, some #36 jerseys, and some Pro Bowl and Miami jerseys. To us, Sean Taylor will never be forgotten.
In my mind, many people around the league have overlooked his death, forgotten about it, or just don’t fully understand it. The loss of Sean Taylor was felt by his teammates, his fans, and his family. But so was his life. We’ll cherish the years we had with Sean and long for the years we missed, but no one will ever forget: Sean Taylor was a star.
Barely In Bounds 
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