When his braided locks bob from the back of his helmet Sunday almost like a spoiler attached to the rear of a Bugatti racer, when Robert Griffin III stylishly jogs onto FedEx Field and is euphorically introduced to 80,000 of his new peripheral friends, many of whom will wear a replica of his No. 10 jersey, a milepost will have been reached.

Oh, it’s not about all the firsts — “first starting NFL QB born in the 1990s” or “first to throw for more than 300 yards in winning his first NFL game” or, heck, “first starting QB with braided hair — ever.” No, it’s the tantalizing reality after just two games that a young and spectacular player behind center already has given indications he can . . . last; that the job is his for years to come.

The larger significance of this Redskins home opener will come into full view not because of what will be said about Griffin but rather what finally can’t be said anymore of the most important position on the field in Washington:

When are we going to get a real quarterback?

From the fading stars of Mark Brunell and Donovan McNabb to the young and disoriented careers of Patrick Ramsey and Jason Campbell to the forever-changing offensive coordinators — from Danny Wuerffel, Tony Banks, Kent Graham, Shane Matthews, Tim Hasselbeck to Rex to Beck and back to Rex again — who among the fan base hasn’t used that line over and over for more than a decade?

When are we going to get a real quarterback?

Just like that, a well-worn phrase gone from the Redskins’ lexicon. Griffin brings unpredictability and excitement to almost every down, instantly rewarding the faith of Shanahan’s bold gamble, wildly exceeding expectations out of the gate.

Wouldn’t it be ironic, then, if the defense, for so many years the bedrock of any success the Redskins mustered, became the Achilles’ heel that Griffin and his high-octane offense was charged with bailing out?

The Redskins, hurting on the other side of the ball, have surrendered an average of 31.8 points and 384 yards in their last seven games, including the last five of 2011. They have kept just two of those seven teams under 350 yards. Meanwhile, Griffin has emerged in a blink. He’s the top producer among NFL fantasy quarterbacks because of what he’s done in a reality league.

Everything he does, in-game and postgame, elicits headlines. Two weeks ago came the inception of “Griffining,” the unrehearsed pose of Griffin sitting up, legs spread out, index fingers pointed toward the heavens, after an 88-yard touchdown to Pierre Garcon against the Saints. This week, “Gripen-ing,” his comments equating some of the Rams to essentially “dirty” cheap-shot artists.

Leatherheads like Warren Sapp and Lomas Brown, now safely embedded in a TV studio, questioned the temerity of a youngster popping off about any kind of contact. “It’s not the Big 12,” St. Louis running back Steven Jackson said. The equivalent of “Shut your mouth, rookie” could be extrapolated from many veterans. After all, isn’t RGIII the one who came up with “No pressure, no diamonds?”