There are seasons that test a franchise’s foundation, and then there are seasons that strip a franchise bare — peeling away every illusion, exposing every lie that had been comfortingly told to justify mediocrity.

For the Washington Commanders, nine weeks into 2025, there’s no illusion left.

They are 3–6. They’ve lost their star under center in Jayden Daniels to a grotesque dislocated elbow on national television. They’ve been humiliated three straight weeks by 20 points or more — something no NFL team has done since the 2020 Jaguars. And in the process, the burgundy and gold have revealed a truth that’s far more painful than their record: they are, once again, a hollow football team.

The Commanders aren’t simply bad, that’s surface level — they are directionless, disjointed, and aging in all the wrong places.

This isn’t what new general manager Adam Peters signed up, nor hoped for. This isn’t what Daniels’ magical rookie year — the one that ended just one game shy of the Super Bowl — was supposed to lead to.

But that season did one thing, it built the illusion of a foundation. It built belief that Washington had finally turned the corner after decades of dysfunction. But it turns out Daniels’ brilliance wasn’t the beginning of something sustainable. It was a mask — a thin, gold-plated veneer covering cracks that have now widened into chasms.

When Washington reached the NFC title game last year, it was easy to believe they’d found the formula. A young franchise quarterback who could erase schematic flaws with his legs, his poise, and his creativity. A defense that could bend, then occasionally break into turnovers. A patchwork roster that, while imperfect, seemed to play above its talent level.

Now, without Daniels — out indefinitely after his gruesome injury against Seattle — everything that once shimmered with promise looks gray. The Commanders’ offense, stripped of its engine, is a sputtering mess. The defense, long overpraised for effort and attitude, is a catastrophe and flat out turnstile.

Seattle didn’t just beat Washington on Sunday Night Football — they exposed them. Two touchdowns in eleven seconds. Thirty-four pressures to Washington’s four. An entire roster divided by talent, cohesion, and vision.

The Seahawks’ young defense — loaded with players like Devon Witherspoon and Byron Murphy — looked faster, stronger, and more prepared at every position. They were the mirror opposite of Washington: a team with identity, with development, with future. The Commanders, meanwhile, looked like a relic — a franchise still paying for the sins of drafts gone wrong and a front office that couldn’t evaluate its way out of a paper bag for half a decade.

A Roster Eroded by Years of Misfires

When Peters took over as general manager, he inherited a roster full of mismatched parts. There were aging veterans who no longer fit a modern scheme and unproven young players who hadn’t been developed. The problem wasn’t just that Washington missed on draft picks — it’s that they missed consecutively, across positions that define a team’s heartbeat.

From 2019 to 2023, the Commanders spent premium draft capital on players who are either off the roster or struggling to find meaningful snaps elsewhere.

And that kind of void isn’t patched overnight.

It takes years to refill, and the cost of those misses — from Jamin Davis to Emmanuel Forbes, to Phidarian Mathis, Jahan Dotson, and the carousel at tight end — is showing up every Sunday.

The fact that 35-year-old Zach Ertz remains this team’s most reliable pass catcher is a symptom of the rot. It’s not a knock on Ertz, who’s been a consummate professional. It’s a reflection of organizational malpractice. You can’t sustain offensive success when your “core” weapons would have been role players on a competent roster.

Terry McLaurin, the one bonafide star among Washington’s pass catchers, has spent 2025 battling injuries and contract frustration dating back to the spring. His chemistry with Daniels had been one of the league’s bright spots last year, but with Marcus Mariota back under center, and McLaurin’s quad injury reaggravated and continuing to linger, every offensive drive feels like borrowed time.

If there’s one faint light in the rubble, it’s on the left side of the offensive line.

Laremy Tunsil, acquired in the offseason, has played up to his reputation — steady, violent, efficient. And left guard Chris Paul has quietly become one of the season’s most surprising stories. His rise from depth piece to consistent starter has been one of the few developmental wins Washington can claim.

Center remains a roller coaster of execution each week with Tyler Biadasz, and the right side, while Sam Cosmi remains one of football’s premier guards, the player to his outside shoulder has made life tough since he returned from IR.

Josh Conerly Jr, who heard his name called on night one in April, has been often overmatched, slow to respond, and frequently penalized (8 against in 2025). He’s in an unfamiliar spot as a former left tackle at Oregon, but the execution for a player whose athleticism and pass pro mirroring ability set the platform for a high level contributor just simply hasn’t met expectations.

And now, with the trade deadline passed, depth players like Andrew Wylie and Nick Allegretti, could have found themselves on the trade block — not because Washington has better replacements, but because any draft pick, any dart at the board, is more valuable than not attempting to at least try to add capital for the spring for players currently watching grass grow.

What once defined the Commanders back to the Jon Allen, Daron Payne, Chase Young, Montez Sweat days — their ability to push the pocket — is gone. What remains is a shell.

They finished Sunday night with four pressures as a team. Four. Seattle’s defense had thirty-four.

Jalyn Holmes registered two. Preston Smith, who’s been about as useless as an ejection seat on a helicopter, managed one on three total rush snaps. Von Miller — a future Hall of Famer clinging to the twilight of his career — had the other.

Deatrich Wise is out for the year. Dorance Armstrong and Will Harris, too. Marshon Lattimore, once a marquee name, has devolved into a liability — a strategically placed road cone, really — before tearing his ACL against Seattle. He’s gone, also. And his days in the burgundy and gold look all but over.

What an addition that was at the deadline last fall, huh?

Defensive effort has evaporated. Players are missing tackles, abandoning gap discipline, and showing the kind of body language that screams resignation. It’s not just a bad defense — it’s a defense that looks like it’s stopped believing in what it’s being asked to do.

Looking back to last year and parts of the injury-ridden sophomore season he’s had, Daniels made everything look deceptively manageable. He is that rare signal-caller who can elevate those around him — a player whose spatial instincts, improvisation, and calm under fire hid the holes in the roster.

When he was on the field, Washington could move the ball. Daniels’ quick processing bought time for the at times porous offensive line. His mobility forced defenses to hesitate, creating windows for receivers who can’t separate on their own. Even on defense, his rhythm and sustained drives gave them rest — and the illusion of competence.

Now, without him, the Commanders look naked. The offense can’t stay on schedule. The defense is exposed. The energy of the building feels sucked out.

And the most painful part? Washington looks years away from being able to surround Daniels with the infrastructure he deserves, and very quickly 2026 is year three of Daniels’ rookie window.

The Commanders still have to play the Lions, the Vikings, the Broncos on another primetime stage, and two matchups with Philadelphia. The idea that this team could claw back to relevance feels far-fetched.

What’s left to play for isn’t a playoff spot — it’s evaluation.

Peters knows this. He’s pragmatic enough to understand that the roster needs detonating. The pass-catching corps needs talent. What’s the future at tight end after spending a Day 2 pick on Ben Sinnott? He’s been a great story, but is Jacory Croskey-Merritt the future at running back? On the opposite side of the ball, the defensive line, once the identity of the franchise, needs reinvestment. The linebacking corps — a revolving door for years — needs more talent, and a willingness from Dan Quinn to allow young players like Jordan Magee, 2025 draft pick Kain Medrano, and others, to fly around as youth-infused athletes to see what he has moving forward.

Then there’s the secondary. Lattimore looks to be gone, but what, and where, is the future for Mike Sainristil? He looked like one of football’s top young corners in 2024, yet has completely regressed in his sophomore year. Trey Amos has shown flashes, but is he CB1 in 2026? As of now, it’s really not a question.

There are holes, EVERYWHERE. Expect moves. Expect churn. But beyond personnel, there’s an existential question looming over this franchise: what is their identity?

Right now, Washington is nothing more than a collection of patchwork parts and hopeful names. The promise of 2024’s run wasn’t real — it was the lightning strike of a transcendent rookie quarterback carrying an otherwise fragile team. And now that lightning is gone, the power’s out, and all that’s left is the silence of a locker room that knows what it’s become.

The Cost of False Progress

There’s a cruelty to how quickly this has all unraveled. Last year, Washington looked like the NFL’s newest “it” team — ascending and fearless. Dan Quinn’s defensive system, while imperfect, looked revitalized. The locker room was united. But beneath the surface, it was all borrowed time.

The lack of real player development, the failure to scout with precision, the refusal to confront declining veterans — all of it metastasized. Winning covered it up, as winning often does. The film told a different story. The numbers did, too.

The Commanders were a house built on a single pillar, and that pillar was No. 5. Without him, the cracks have turned into collapse.

The Franchise in Reflection

So where does Washington go from here?

The answer starts with patience and honesty.

That means investing in wideouts who can separate, defenders who can win in isolation on passing downs, and secondary perimeter stalwarts that don’t get turned around on a five-yard dig.

It means turning away from the endless churn of short-term veterans and committing to a long-term vision, because what we’re witnessing now is the cost of shortcuts.

The 2025 Commanders are a reminder that flashes of success aren’t the same as foundation. That a great quarterback can lift you — but he can’t save you forever. And that the only way forward is to face the wreckage head-on, tear down what’s broken, and start again.

For now, though, the Burgundy and Gold are adrift. Nine weeks in, this is no longer a team — it’s a cautionary tale.