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How I became a diehard Eagles fan at a very convenient time.
The NFL season is almost upon us and for a Birds fan it’s time to take stock of last year and the disappointment we faced in the Super Bowl. It’s an odd feeling this year, yes we made it to the Super Bowl, and yes we lost in the biggest game on earth - but why does it feel like it doesn’t hurt? I mean don’t get me wrong, I did drunkenly yell (cried) at the fact that Andy Reid was a traitor currently satiated with BBQ instead of cheesesteaks, or that Mahomes didn’t make a single mistake compared to Hurt’s big old kick in the dick. And yes, it got bad enough that my wife left the room and I knew I was then in for an even deeper level of shame the following day. But a few days later, not even a week, I didn’t feel anything at all. Why?
That may well be because unless you have no soul like my friend Dick, or lack the capability to feel like the hero Kick Ass of the movie with the same name you know doesn’t hold up if you’re being honest, you are acutely aware that the Philadelphia Eagles just won the Super Bowl back in 2018.
In 2018 Philly erupted with total catharsis. 57 years of pain were over. We took to the streets, screamed in joy, hugged strangers, ate horse shit, and never looked back. The city had a set of new heroes to lift up, and first among them was Nick Foles. Foles was the perfect idol, an unassuming man who won the hearts of every Eagles fan from Delco to those poor bastards stuck across the river. His guts, play, and humbleness in victory made the years of misery fade away in an instant.
The 2018 season was a dream. From the first kickoff in September, to Brady’s final desperate shot slipping through Gronk’s hands, I’ve never felt prouder or more connected with every Eagles fan. I could go into the specifics of all the years of misery the team and fans have suffered through to get to this point, but I can’t. Of course, that may have something to do with the fact that until a few minutes before the 2018 season, I was not, in fact, an Eagles fan.
Now you lifelong Eagles fans may be saying, wow, what a giant piece of shit this guy is, what a total fraud, what a douche. You wouldn’t be wrong, but in this case I can actually defend myself and explain why I do in fact get a pass from any ill will.
I’m originally from New York, not the city but the suburbs, Sleepy Hollow specifically. A resemblance to Ichabod Crane may be the reason I grew a beard, but I will comment on it no further. I attended a sheltered private school from K-12. While we had sports and plenty of my classmates had the talent to play (I did not), the environment was always class first, sports second. Meaning no one was loud, angry, or filled with unstoppable confidence like anyone you would meet in south Philly when it comes to any of the local sports franchises. Basically I didn’t give a shit about sports and definitely not pro sports at the time. I was focused on investing all my time into Halo as a way to build valuable life skills while successfully avoiding having a chance with any girl in my class.
Of course that changed as soon as I got to college in Philadelphia. What changed? Why suddenly care? There is no great mystery. The answer is alcohol, and gambling. Surrounded by people who focused on those two pillars of our community for 4 years, becoming a NFL fan was a foregone conclusion.
I half-heartedly supported the Giants throughout the years but as much as I enjoyed Eli Manning’s face, I had no real connection to the team. I gathered no real joy in watching them play. Most likely due to the fact I wasn’t a part of any real inherited community & fandom (or the fact their boring ass run game relied on Brandon Jacobs falling forward for 1 yard at a clip). When they won great, when they lost, I could shrug it off easier than most (we’ve covered me being a POS already).
At this point I’ve lived in Philadelphia for 13 years of my life. I’m surrounded by Birds fans. My wife is a diehard Birds fan. One of my best friends is a diehard Birds fan. However, more than any influence, the thoughts of my first born being brought into a broken home of fandom and having to go to school as a potential Giants fan was the breaking point. I plan to live in Philadelphia for the rest of my life, I love it here. I’d have to be an even bigger piece of shit to break my family apart.
All of that verbal diarrhea brings us back to the point of why me joining the Eagles fanbase is not an egregious offense. Before the first kickoff of that fateful 2018 season I reached out to my friend Tom.
I said “Tom, I can’t bring my kid into a broken home, and I’ve been living in Philly for a long time. From this point forward I’m rooting for the Eagles”. He acknowledged my statement between sips of his preferred warm whiskey and said something I’ll remember forever, “Okay”.
From that point forward I’d been officially sanctioned as an Eagles fan. I had the blessing of a true diehard Birds fan. A man who had experienced all the pain and heartache associated with the team before their Lombadi trophy win. A man who would refuse to celebrate any victory until the final whistle blew. A man who always expected the sweet taste of victory to turn into total shit in the mouth.
Neither of us could know that the Eagles would string together one of the most impressive NFC East seasons in recent memory. To his credit, even though I just didn’t like the dude, Carson Wentz put the Eagles in prime position before his injury to set up Nick Foles, who is properly equipped, to sprinkle some magic all over the city. Sitting in Tom’s house, celebrating when they pulled off the close, low-scoring victory against the Atlanta Falcons in the first round he turned to me and said, “Man, if they win the fucking Super Bowl the year you decide to be an Eagles fan that’ll be bullshit”.
As mentioned above we all know what happened next. And somehow, I could claim the victory and diminish it for my friend for my own sick purposes. Life was good.
I found the best way to twist the knife from that point forward was anytime I was out with Tom was to walk up to a conversation he was in and loudly insert myself with “Man, our guys fucking did it this year! Go BIRDS!”. I would get an immediate happy pop out of anyone around us, and Tom would stare daggers at me while muttering “asshole”.
Let’s just say I milked this joke for as long as physically possible before it died off.
From the 2018 win, to the loss last year, I realize I’ve backed into a great franchise. With the win I could never feel that release that lifelong fans could, but I could appreciate what it meant for them and be happy they got to experience it. Mostly that’s due to the longer I live here, the more I love it. Of course it’s well documented that many cities are proud of their sports franchises but only a few have the teams that permeate the fabric of every piece of the city's culture. Philly’s up there, LA, and of course, those scumbags in Boston and New York as well.
I look forward to the next Eagles season and giving more of a shit. Maybe one day I give so much of a shit watching any of the games is a totally unenjoyable anxiety-filled ritual. Fingers crossed.
Go Birds.