I am a Philly fan, have been since I was old enough to watch TV. Went to Franklin Field for Training Camps, and have pictures of myself and my brother with Roman Gabriel, Frank LeMaster and Harold Carmichael. My dad was old school Philly. Son of Italian immigrants, dropped out of school in 8th grade to go to work because that’s what his family needed him to do. My dad was a man of very few words: wasn’t big on praise or public displays of affection. To him, there was one right way to do something, and you always did that. You did it, and you didn’t complain. And you didn’t look for praise. You did it because it was the right thing to do. If you cut corners (or half-assed it, as he would put it) you were told. Otherwise, “you did what you were supposed to do. Good. Take a rest, get some sleep and I’ll see you early in the morning for the same thing”. He worked 4 jobs, in his late 40s and 50s, while I was growing up, to afford us growing up in a good neighborhood with great schools.
He was never able to go to a single football game of mine, or little league game or wrestling match. I can’t recall a single game of catch I got to play with my old man, because he was always working. But, we had sports. We would watch boxing together, Phillies’ and Sixers’ games and, of course, Eagles’ games. Our house bled green every Sunday. We cheered and cursed through a lot of ups and downs over the years. Leonard Tose, Fog Bowl, Body Bag game, ‘For who? For what?’, Randall breaking his leg, Jerome dying, losing Reggie in free agency, 4th &26, Tampa Bay in the NFCCG. Philly became the living embodiment of the blue-collar, lunchbox guy that was always doomed to keep pushing that rock up the hill, only to have it roll back down, inches from the top.
I’ve hated Boston since the days when the Celtics were so good, with Bird, McHale, Ainge, Parrish, DJ. My first roommates out of basic training, when I went to spend a year in Monterey, were two 25-year-old Irish jamooks from Southie, with Celtics posters all over the walls. When they found out I was a dago from Philly, the rivalry was on. And, believe me, smack talk is raised to Olympic levels when you get Philly and Baaaahston fans going. The two cities are mirror images of each other: tough, gritty, mostly good-natured, chip on their shoulder, lunchbox towns.
I also, for good reason, despised the Patriots since they started their dynasty. First off, i can’t remember ever meeting a Patriots’ fan, before they started winning. Nobody was claiming them in the late 80s, early 90s. Not even my two knucklehead roommates. But, come 2003, everyone is a lifelong, diehard Pats fan. Bunch of frontrunners. Loud, obnoxious frontrunners. Not to mention the cheating. Cost my best, beloved Eagles a Lombardi trophy with their surreptitious camera shenanigans. And Brady- i hate him because he is too perfect: Supermodel wife, cleft chin, dagger in the heart of every opposing fan in the 4th Qtr. F you, Golden Boy! My absolute hatred of the Patriots was pure, like rooting against the heel in the WWF.
When it came out, I watched A Football Life about Belichick. Something wholly unexpected happened- I freaking love the guy. Hearing about how he grew up, his relationship with his dad, all the crap that he went through as an assistant and geting his break in Cleveland and getting the rug pulled out from under him with the team moving. And he didn’t kvetch or complain to the media. He didn’t cry in his beer and sing “whoa is me”. He worked even harder. He knew if he coached the right way, his way- he could turn New England into a winner. I love the way he handles the media, I love his sarcasm and stone-faced responses. I love the way he coaches his team up to always have the answer. I always paid grudging respect to his evil genius, but i became a huge fan of the guy, his work ethic and his commitment to doing things the right way. I’ll begrudgingly admit Brady is GOAT, too. But, I’d really like to see Perfect Tommy get some mud on his jersey. I just don’t have it in me to root for a guy to step on home base, when he was seemingly born on 3rd base.
This coming game means a lot to me, as I’m sure it means a lot to others. And I’m sure it means nothing to a huge chunk of people on here. I see the Eagles as a possible dynasty, now. I love Pederson as a coach. I get inspired by the franchise QB we have. I love rooting for this team, that plays disciplined football and gives every ounce of effort on the field. I love that this team is playing for each other and backing each other up and putting their egos in check and playing ‘Next Man Up’ football. It’s like the footballl gods fnally decided to let Philly have a team that lives up to all those lunchbox expectations. As a fan, I see our team following the blueprint Bellichick followed. And I’m excited for that.
Sure, it’s just a game. Nothing earth-shattering happens, win or lose. But, for me, personally, it’d be the equivalent of an extra Tasykake in my dad’s lunchbox. I’m staying home and watching with just my kids. And we’ll be talking about Grandpop Henry. I’d love to see an Eagles’ win over a quality opponent, who goes about their jobs the right way. The Boston way. The Philly Way. The way I (and a lot of you) grew up.
Fly, Eagles, fly!