𝒲𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝒷𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑒! 𝒲𝑜𝓌 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝑔𝑒, 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒? 𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽; 𝐼 𝑜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉. 𝒜𝓃𝓎𝒽𝑜𝓌, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝓈𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁, 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝒷𝓅𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝒷 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓈𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒. 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑜𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝓈𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒, 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌, 𝓈𝓊𝒷𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒾𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒻𝓊𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹, 𝒾𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒸𝓎, *𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔* (𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓀-𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓀) 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓈. 𝒪𝒽, 𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑜, 𝐼 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒'𝓈 𝒥𝑒𝒻𝒻 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒫𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓁𝓅𝒽𝒾𝒶 𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒹𝒾𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝒪𝒦, 𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝓊𝓅 𝑒𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓆𝓊𝑒𝑒𝑒... 𝒮𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃' 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃'! 𝒞𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃'... 𝒮𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃'...𝒶𝒽, 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓂𝑜. 𝒜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅-𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓌, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒽𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓂𝒷 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉𝓈 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈. 𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒹𝒶𝓎. 𝒢𝑜𝒷 𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈. 💨🤢
↓↓ K E Y (primary &/or secondary mediums) – ✄= art ✎= lit ♪= music ✪= video;  = highly recommended content ↓↓


The rain had stopped and my neighbor Rocky was running across the street holding two mugs of beer, oddly stacked on top of each other, looking for someone to hug. His T-shirt was red and not green. Later, when he was hugging me, he mentioned something about his wife, who had died less than a year ago, and about how this shirt was for her (I didn't quite glean why). Then he asked me what my name was.

I think I might want to title this post something like "On Being a Giants Fan Living in Philly (and Rooting for the Eagles)" because that's what I was, that's what I am. I am not an 'Eagles Fan™' by any stretch of the imagination. But seeing how this sports team has transformed the vibe of the entire city, and how happy its made my neighbors and newish Philly friends, it was difficult not to pull for them. Oh wait, they were playing the Patriots... it actually wasn't that difficult, but that's beside the point^.

Rocky loves my wife. He was looking for her specifically among the neighbors and strangers who staged an impromptu Eagles celebration party on the corner of Palmer & Girard, mere feet from my house. She eventually saw him and they hugged. Everyone was hugging everybody. She later told me that he had been sober for years. I guess the Eagles winning the Super Bowl is about as good as any reason for a relapse; I honestly believe that.

The vibes leading up to the Super Bowl were such that I was certain the Eagles would lose, and more than likely lose badly. There could be no other outcome. The absurd overconfidence and joy would be shattered by either a heartbreaking loss or embarrassing blowout; it was going to be one of the two. That's the feeling Philadelphians secretly crave. They need it to maintain their identity: the (not-so) lovable loser.

But that's not what happened.

What happened was a tremendous game and a thrilling victory, and a greater understanding for what makes these people I'm surrounded by tick. The Patriots only play close Super Bowls. In fact, they really only play sensational Super Bowls. Of the eight games in this era, you'd be hard-pressed not to list seven of them in the Top 20 Super Bowls of all-time, if not the Top 10. My loathing of their success (and how they earned it over the years) is basically parallel with my level of fandom for my own team. I can honestly say that a Patriots loss, any Patriots loss, is nearly equal to a comparable Giants win. This is kinda sick and I realize that. But, I'm... just being honest.

So that's how I found myself screaming at the TV alongside a diehard Eagles fan named John last night. And that's how I found myself out on the streets after the game high-fiving random people as sketchballs in every direction launched real-deal fireworks in the middle of the street.

A lot has been written about the loathsomeness of Philly football fans, and it's all true. The ones who aren't bad don't deserve to be lumped in with the rest but the rest are probably far worse than their reputation. I'm not sure where they go now, both the good and the bad.

Rocky was just as boastful after the game, screaming to anyone who would listen that this is just the beginning of what will surely be an Eagles dynasty. "At least three!" He screamed. One word that still feels fitting for fans of the Philadelphia football team is delusional. This was true well before SBLII, before #WentzWagon and NICK FREAKING FOLES, before the genius of Chip Kelly and the "Don't even say the name Chip Kelly around me, bro^," before Andy and McNabb's half decade of losing NFC Title Games, before Randall, and before Buddy and–– it goes on and on...

It wasn't so much that Philly was never a winner as it was they weren't a winner in real life. They've always been the best and most important thing in this city. You know, this doesn't really change a thing. Life in Philly can be hard. People are mean. It's bleak and dirty. But that hope––that delusion––that the E-A-G-L-E-S Eagles offers this collective spirit cannot be beat; it's undefeated. They are the best sports fans that America has and it's not even close. And because this is America, that makes them worse. It was nice to me a part of the craziness for a night. I wasn't pretending.