WASHINGTON — Cynthia Lynn, in labor before the delivery of her third son, Alec, heard the far-off radio, and with startled husband Ron at her side, learned of his firing as the Chargers' defensive coordinator.
Seven months later, and two weeks after moving to Cincinnati--her husband already off to work at training camp as defensive coordinator of the Bengals--Cynthia Lynn was knocking on a neighbor's door for help.
Ron Lynn, calling home to say good night to his family, reached a baby sitter, who told him that his wife and youngest son were at the hospital.
"Driving to the hospital, as terrified as I was in thinking what could be happening, it wasn't anywhere near as bad as what I was about to hear," Lynn says now.
At the hospital, the Lynns were told that their baby would need to have all his blood replaced, and very possibly he would not live through the night.
"I remember literally praying: 'Just give him the chance to take his first step and let him go and play outside,' " Lynn says. "That's the way it should be for a child."
Eight months later, after so many hopeful moments of remission--every one of them having been quashed--and 15 minutes past St. Patrick's Day, Alec Patrick Lynn died of leukemia.
More than two years later now, Ron Lynn, one of those faceless, nameless assistant football coaches, is working this holiday as defensive coordinator for the Washington Redskins, preparing for a game against the Dallas Cowboys today that means absolutely everything.
On the wall in Lynn's office at Redskins Park, however, hangs Alec's smiling picture, along with the little Bengals' baseball cap he had always worn, a family treasure and ever-present reminder of perspective.
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Three weeks ago, Cynthia Lynn, mother and chauffeur, drove 8-year-old Ryon to his soccer game, walked the sideline, rushed home to prepare lunch, and then made the mad dash to 6-year-old John's game, encouraging and consoling as needed.
An hour later, the third quarter was just ending at RFK Stadium, and cars were already leaving the Redskin-Eagle game as Cynthia Lynn, wife and cheerleader, turned the family car into the parking lot. With Ryon and John in tow, she found their assigned seats and caught the first glimpse of her husband at work.
Those sitting around her had already focused their attention on the man directing the Redskins' defense and began chanting, "Lynn must go!"
Cynthia Lynn remembers dropping her head and not wanting to look up.
"Is anyone else hearing this but me?" she said to herself.
"My gosh, it was the most terrible thing you can imagine professionally for your husband," she says. "But no one around me was saying anything, either because they were polite or knew how stressful it must have been to me. The chanting continued, I looked up at Ryon and John, and they broke out in tears."
Cynthia Lynn no longer walks the soccer sideline on Redskin game day with transistor to ear. Each time the TV is clicked on, she cringes at what might be heard. Even riding the RFK Stadium elevator filled with fans dedicated to the Redskin cause is no guarantee that she will be free from hearing a disparaging word. And Washington is 8-4.
"It makes me wonder if all this is worth it," she says. "Ron picked a profession that has a trickle-down impact on the boys. I just pray that I'm handling it right and raising the boys to be strong and sensitive."
Most NFL assistants work in anonymity, but the Redskins have played before 228 consecutive sellout crowds in RFK Stadium, making the man who is in charge of the league's worst-ranked defense as recognizable as the jogger who lives up the street in that big White House.
"I was doing the breakfast dishes the other day and Ryon and John were playing a football game they have, and Ryon was mimicking a sports broadcaster and criticizing his own father: 'That was a terrible call by Ron Lynn,' " Cynthia says.
"Kids are so impressionable. . . . Both boys have had some bad experiences at school with other kids saying, 'My dad says your dad is not a very good coach.'
"There are so many things that have happened in the last four years, and so much out of our control. I'm still not dealing with everything very well at times, but when I'm down, Ron's best and most repeated line is, 'Cynth, did you wake up this morning? Did your sons wake up healthy? You got nothing to worry about. We're going to be fine.' "
After the last four years, which have included professional turmoil, moving vans, the death of Alec and several other relatives, and Cynthia's sister's bout with breast cancer, these should be the best of times for the Redskins, Lynn and family, with Washington already having won more games--with four left to play--than in any season since 1992.
But because of the defense's shaky showing at critical times, the radio talk shows and boo birds are calling for Ron Lynn's dismissal.
