Redskins no more: it's time for a change in D.C.

Howard Smith/USA Today

Should the Redskins change their name? The answer should be a resounding yes.

What do you think when you hear the name Washington Redskins? Perhaps, legendary football teams and players that have donned the burgundy and gold? Perhaps, a catchy name that is a racial epithet, indirectly aimed at demeaning an already severely undervalued group of Native Americans?

If you want to steer clear of the controversial nature of this conversation, I strongly encourage you to read on. The great controversy of one of the NFL’s most popular teams continues to brew in the realm of morality and it's not going to change.

At least, not until Redskins general manager Bruce Allen put his business-driven pride to the side and does the right thing.

It's been over 40 years since the Redskins were, officially, the Redskins. Registered in 1967, the name has no real source of origin, except for the possibility that it may have been created in 1933 to honor former head coach Lone Star Dietz, who claimed to be of Sioux heritage. His actual heritage, however, was never confirmed.

The name, to some, is a blatant example of the marginalization of a race that has been disregarded and pushed to the side from the very moment they encountered foreign settlers. Some feel the name is an "honor" — a dedication of sorts. Owner Daniel Snyder, Allen and the Washington Redskin's brain trust fall into this category. This honor could stand for the bravery and resilience Native Americans have displayed when facing racial hardships since, well, forever.

Patrick McDermott

"Chief Zee," an African American Redskins super fan, served
as inspiration for the Redskins infamous logo.

But if the name is indeed such an honor, why not go ahead and consider these nicknames for other teams around the country?

The Colorado Crackers.

The New York Negroes.

Hypothetical and highly offensive names these surely are, but what’s the difference? Why are these viewed as degrading, racist and inappropriate, while an equally disparaging term like "redskins" is conveniently justified as an ovation to Native American honor and bravery?

It's a double standard, that's why.

The pistol offense and how it contributed to Robert Griffin's bleak future

Patrick McDermott

What will become of the 2012 Offensive Rookie of the Year's NFL career?

It was a long shot, but 23-year-old Robert Griffin III could have been an Indianapolis Colt.

The fans of professional football can argue about who was the better rookie quarterback in 2012, but regardless of who they choose, it’s clear the Colts and their fans will always be the “victors” of the 2012 NFL Draft.

The “victory,” and I use quotes because an injury is absolutely nothing to celebrate, should have been decided by individual achievement, accolades and most importantly, Super Bowl rings. Instead, it has come in the form of something much more simplistic: durability.

Even though Andrew Luck appeared to be the Colts choice well before the legendary Peyton Manning had even exited Indianapolis, there was a relative amount of push from the outside world to make former Baylor quarterback Griffin the No.1 overall pick in the 2012 NFL Draft.

Thankfully for Indianapolis, Colts' general manager Ryan Grigson didn’t fall for it, and why would he?

Luck and Griffin are both, without a doubt, phenomenal football specimens. That much was clear. But the risks were also hiding in plain sight. Griffin had already suffered a catastrophic knee injury in college, and if he was going to be a slam dunk in the NFL, his body would need to be protected; from himself, and from an offense that would force him to run.

While working on Draft profiles last year for my gig at StampedeBlue.com, I was given the task of profiling Griffin and examining the quarterback from every angle. After experiencing Griffin work the press room at the 2012 NFL Combine, firsthand, and watching hours upon hours of tape, I concluded my profile with the following assessment [emphasis mine]:

No matter how much film you watch, it's impossible to address every aspect of this guy's game. This is a player that could ultimately transform the position, as we know it. Andrew Luck is the more polished prospect (mechanics, awareness, offensive experience), but Griffin is just a totally different animal. And while both carry question marks, Griffin's carry more risk.

I am hardly a professional talent evaluator, and that's the point. I could recognize the risks involved when vesting a team's future in Griffin. They were obvious, so why ignore them?

Ray Lewis' legacy, as a man, still faces tough questions

Patrick Smith

Will Ray Lewis ever answer the question of what really happened on that fateful January night in 2000?

With a new Super Bowl champion crowned and the 2013 off-season already in full swing, one of the game's most notable warriors — a warrior that has a lot of history in games against the Indianapolis Colts — is riding off into the sunset.

But not without a trail of mystery, tragedy and sorrow at his heels.

That warrior, is Ray Lewis. His legacy as a one of football's greatest talents ever is ending, but his journey as a regular human being has resumed.

During the next stage of his life, Lewis won’t be celebrating anymore wins on Sunday with his teammates. Lewis, instead, will be taking a shot at life behind the cameras. He'll still be a star, but he will also have a great deal of time to think about the haunting images of two men that were murdered in 2000.

It has been thirteen years, but the answer to what happened on that fateful January night is no closer to being disclosed. If anyone knows what happened, it's still, well, Ray Lewis.

On the field, Lewis was an animal — a rare breed of athlete that ended his illustrious playing career with yet another Super Bowl ring. No one can question Ray Lewis, the player. That’s unarguable.

However, questioning Ray Lewis, the man, is a different story.

After the Ravens thrilling victory over the 49ers in Super Bowl XLVII, Lewis was ready to provide one of the biggest media venues of the year with his larger than life personality. He was a champion, again, and it was time to let the world know how great God he felt about it. There’s nothing wrong with that, either. But when would questions about 2000 come? You just knew someone was going to ask about it, but I don't think anyone expected it would come from his ex-teammate, now CBS analyst, Shannon Sharpe.

In an awkward moment, Sharpe started his friendly exchange by teetering around the real question Lewis should have been asked: What happened during that night in Atlanta? But to Sharpe’s "credit," he still posed a question to Lewis, softly or not.

"What would you like to say to the families?" Sharpe asked.