Art Headed to the Museum

Art Monk was elected into the Pro Football Hall of Fame yesterday, and I heard about it last night, third-hand from a friend over some hurricanes and Abita Purple Hazes (Mardi Gras party.) After years of remaining attuned to Monk's plight as he was repeatedly passed over, how his happy news reached my ears was telling. I guess I'd given up hope that the folks with ballots would ever see Art Monk the way we Skins fans do.

The roundabout way I heard about it was also perfect for Art Monk -- quietly, without much fuss; a quick exchange of fives, an "awesome," a "hell yeah," and a "'bout friggin' time"; then it was back to the huddle around the crabcakes and beer. The conversational equivalent of the workmanlike 7-yard slant for a first down. Monk to a tee.

The Peter Kings of the world almost had me doubting myself and, in turn, Art Monk; with years of explanations why he wasn't premier enough for Canton, why he lacked the numbers that matter or elite status, their stance was prevailing among voters. As much as I rejected the notion that the guy who once held the all-time and single-season receptions titles -- in a run-first, run-second, pass-if-you-must offense -- wasn't worthy of such accolades, the simple fact that he wasn't getting in began to undermine my arguments to the contrary.

Art Monk wasn't flashy, and that worked against him -- even as it endeared him to the most loyal and longtime fans of the burgundy and gold. When we'd play football at recess (intermittently touch and tackle, depending upon the prior day's injuries and punishments), we'd pick players to be as we called plays like "everybody go deep." When a top selection was Ricky Thompson, Charlie Brown, or Alvin Garrett, knowing glances and grins would be exchanged between a few of us; Art Monk was always the pick, duh. Even as Gary Clark and Ricky Sanders stole headlines and highlights from him, Monk was central to the Redskins' success and an enormous fan favorite. He was a quiet guy, and that never helps a guy get votes from writers, either. You simply had to pay closer attention to see how integral a guy, how much of a leader he was. And we did.

It's been a tough case to make against those who didn't see every Washington game in the 80's and early 90's (back when we got Madden and Summerall almost every week). Monk missed the Super Bowl against Miami, didn't do much against the Broncos, and might be most famous in the win over the Bills for being the first-ever guy to have a Super Bowl TD called back because of replay. Doesn't change our opinion of him in the least. The Skins don't get to any of those title games without guys like Art Monk. He's diametrically opposed to Riggo in flair and sense of the spotlight, but he's right alongside him in on-field consistency, toughness, and performance down the stretch. Same goes for Darrell Green. These guys got it done. (I won't delve further into new HoFer Darrell Green's greatness here. This post is for Mr. Monk.)

Art Monk might not seem like a Fun Bunch kind of player, but the loved & hated touchdown celebration was actually conceived in the 1982-3 postseason as a tribute to him as he sat out with a broken ankle. (He wouldn't miss time after that for eons.) The plan was for the group to assemble after a caught TD and make a unified high-five in the playoff game against the Lions. Alvin Garrett got too excited after his first two touchdowns and simply forgot; when he scored his third, however, they finally got it right and saluted Monk. The Hall of Fame seems to have followed the pattern all the way, and I now give them credit.

3rd-and-9. 11-yard catch. Take a hit, hop up, back to the huddle.

The way it should be, and I'm not the only Redskins fan who's extremely fired up to see him finally get the call from the Hall. Congrats to Art Monk.