Too bad I like football; I live in Washington

Daniel Snyder is a total prick. But we already knew that.

I put my name on the waiting list to get season tickets for the Washington Redskins in 1996. I got a long-awaited phone call from a team representative in December telling me my number was up, and if I wanted them, six season tickets were mine.

Of course, coming off last season, when Washington wound up 5-11 and missed the playoffs once again, not everyone would have jumped at the chance, but being a die-hard Redskins fan since I was 3, I was elated. Some of my closest friends and I put our deposit down for all six seats. Then came the fun part of saving up the money -- I'm a second-year teacher; need I say more? I was told I would get an invoice in early April.


Finally in June, I received my invoice -- for two tickets. The letter said, "With Joe Gibbs's return, there's been a surge of fan loyalty across the country. Due to unprecedented ticket demand, the Redskins, unfortunately, cannot immediately fulfill your total request."
How much harder can this team screw over its fans?

Seriously, between charging the second-highest ticket price in the NFL (behind New England), and closing sidewalks before the game in the name of national security so they can force fans to pay $25 for parking, the tickets when mailed to fans should come with a letter stating, "Enjoy Daniel Snyder's penis, squirming around in your anus. Your friends, the Redskins."

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