CONSIDER TWO REDSKINS fans. They are locals — one from Rockville, Md., the other from Falls Church, Va. — not only of the same generation but of the same generation of Redskins fans, introduced to the team in the losing 1960s, faithful throughout the uneven ’70s and rewarded with Super Bowls in the ’80s. For them, the Redskins are not just a way of life but a way through life — a way to learn about love, holding the old man’s hand at RFK or downing bowls of Mom’s homemade Redskins chili; about death, when Vince Lombardi passed away; about geographical hatred, when George Allen waged war on the city of Dallas; about pain, when Joe Theismann fractured his leg; and about community, from the unified joy of three championships.

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Forty years ago, when U.S. cities began abandoning high-rise public housing, blasting crews would fill a tower with explosives and in a few monumental booms all would be reduced to rubble and rolling clouds of dust. It was as swift as it was symbolic.

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