Twenty years ago, long before Joe Burrow and Ja’Marr Chase electrified the NFL, eight young Bengals fans living far from the banks of the Ohio River found themselves adrift in the swamp of Washington, DC. They were Charlie Williams, Drew Spievack, Andrew Simon, Steve Mayne, Drew Johnston, Ray Schlinkert, Andy Harding, and Luke Blocher. Each had come to the nation’s capital for work, school, or opportunity—but when football season rolled around, they felt the ache of distance from home. Sunday afternoons weren’t the same without the Bengals.

Charlie Williams took it upon himself to change that. He walked into The Bottom Line, a Dupont Circle dive best known for pouring cold drinks, and convinced JR, the owner, to open the doors on Sundays so that a small but passionate group could watch the Bengals. The setup was modest: one TV, maybe two if they were lucky, and usually no sound. But it was enough to spark something bigger.

Not content with just watching the games, the group decided to bring a taste of Cincinnati to DC. They lugged in crockpots of homemade chili—not Skyline, not Gold Star, just honest Cincinnati-style chili crafted with love and shared with anyone who showed up in orange and black. Slowly but surely, word spread. A few more fans would trickle in each week, then a few more. By the height of the Carson Palmer and Chad Johnson era, The DC Jungle was roaring, with Who Dey chants echoing off the walls of The Bottom Line.

The bar responded in kind. Once just a drink-only establishment, The Bottom Line began opening its kitchen on Sundays, even serving Cincinnati-style chili as a nod to the tradition the founders had started. The gatherings grew into something much larger than a watch party—it became a community. Friendships were forged, families grew into the tradition, and for many in the DMV, Sunday afternoons at The Bottom Line became a ritual as sacred as any back in Cincinnati.

Through the ups and downs of the Palmer-OchoCinco years, the grit and grind of the Dalton-Green era, and now the magic of the Burrow-Chase generation, one thing has remained the same: the unwavering loyalty of Who Dey DC. Crowds have grown, shrunk, and grown again, but the roar has never gone silent. For two decades, Bengals fans in DC have proven that home is not just a place on a map—it’s a place where fans gather, chili simmers, and voices rise together in unison: Who Dey!

What began with eight friends searching for a screen has become a 20-year legacy that has outlasted quarterbacks, coaches, and countless NFL storylines. Today, The Bottom Line is not just a bar. It’s the home for Bengals football in the nation’s capital, a jungle where memories are made, heartbreaks are endured, and victories are celebrated together.

Here’s to Charlie, Drew S., Andrew, Steve, Drew J., Ray, Andy, and Luke—and to the hundreds of fans who have carried the torch since. Here’s to twenty years of jungle pride in DC. And here’s to twenty more. Who Dey!