ASHBURN, Va. — In the Washington Commanders’ locker room, the face of the franchise’s position isn’t wide receiver.
“I’m the doorman,” Terry McLaurin said.
The Pro Bowl wide receiver’s spot offers numerous advantages. He is situated immediately to the left of the main entryway that funnels into the middle of the 85-by-36 room. The burgundy carpet, framed with swaths of gold, has a patch in the center that’s a tick different shade — a replacement for a particular logo that once existed. Player lockers are grouped by units and (primarily) offense and defense, though all but one lineman — Daron Payne’s locker is out of position — form a wall opposite the entrance.
McLaurin’s nook is among a small handful without a neighbor on one side. From that perch, “I can see everybody coming and going,” he said. That “prime spot” means a shorter walk to and from the practice field. The training room is less than 10 steps away.
McLaurin’s cheerfulness is less about glass-half-full energy or a physical locker room itself, which was outdated by modern professional team standards at least a decade ago. Equipment, shoulder pads and used athletic tape strewn across the carpet create that lived-in ambiance.
Not every athlete enjoys their time in such tight quarters. This crew played for a franchise whose former owner dismissed team chemistry easier than firing five head coaches. Despite the challenges that few teams have endured outside of Washington — created mainly by former owner Dan Snyder — the residents bonded.
“We’ve been able to adjust off of the adversities that we’ve seen … because of the guys in this locker room,” McLaurin said.
Snyder, of course, is now gone, following a sale of the franchise that coach Ron Rivera recently called a “godsend for our players.” New owner Josh Harris’ arrival has only added to the good vibes.
“You don’t have to worry about problems from this ownership,” new part-owner Magic Johnson said Thursday of his message to players. “You just have to concentrate on Sundays. You ain’t going to read no headlines. You’re not going to have to worry about nothing. … That’s exactly what I told them.”
Ear plugs are not required to enter the locker room, though, at times, the noise reaches nightclub levels. This is the players’ domain, and they’ll be as loud as they want — some more than others.
“I gotta give it to the D-line,” McLaurin said.” With (Montez) Sweat, Jon (Allen), and Chase (Young), they’re the loudest group for sure.”
Punter Tress Way — who procured an aisle seat near the equipment room, on the advice of former long snapper Nick Sundberg, for its proximity to donuts or pizza drop-offs — said the defensive back side of the room is “definitely louder” but gave the D-line the edge for “sheer entertainment.”
“I’m watching Jerry Springer in here every day. I love it,” Way said. “It’s like a reality TV show about how many arguments can be generated over the things that don’t matter at all. Sometimes, I get called to be on the jury.”
Way recalled how the D-linemen once, with tongue in cheek, randomly turned on Casey Toohill.
“He’s one of the nicest guys on the team,” another of the nicest guys on the team said of the defensive end, “and they start asking him, ‘Casey, why are you such a jerk?’ … Then Casey is pleading his case to me, and all the other guys start doing the same, stirring the pot. That’s just how it goes.”
