It was nearly halftime of the Philadelphia Eagles Sunday night debacle when my friend Serge strolled into the living room in a carefree manner. Apparently, he found me less than hospitable. I’m not exactly sure how I gave this impression. It’s true that I refused to answer the buzzer and forced another friend Steve to get the door. Then I wondered aloud how anyone might think this was an appropriate time to begin watching any game, never mind the horrible display on NBC. Maybe Serge took offense when I started throwing things at him. He immediately appealed to Steve, “How long have you been putting up with this?”
Too long. The complete incompetence of the Eagles and their coaching staff, the inability to formulate an even vaguely effective game plan against a weak defense, and the insistence on taking penalties on every play had been pounding on my brain, snap after snap, year after year, driving me into a maniacal state. I’m sure many other Eagles fans were similarly disposed.
But I’ve been attempting to extricate myself from this addictive malignancy called Eagles fandom (Read about steps one, two, and three). I now face the toughest task in my recovery. I must “make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself.” So, fearlessly, I’ve dug into my moral warehouse and uncovered my biggest Eagles-related failing: I’m too negative.
When Serge came over, I could have been celebrating a Sunday night with friends. There was plenty of food and drink. Everyone was healthy and doing well. We could have toasted the new job Serge’s wife just got or the artist residency Steve had won. Or, more importantly, we could have toasted my beloved Philadelphia Phillies. They had just made the playoffs after a 14 year absence. It’s an amazing feat, especially if you consider their terrible team E.R.A., their pathetic bullpen, and their idiot manager. Still, they made the playoffs! I should celebrate the positive.
Instead, I harp on Winston Justice, the totally inept offensive tackle for the Eagles. The only things Justice blocked were my arteries. How can I celebrate the positive when the Eagles give up twelve sacks? When they can’t figure out how to adapt, to switch up their coverage, to give this Winston Justice some help? How can I be positive in the face of the same useless shotgun formation, the same crappy play, the same sack repeating over and over like a broken record?
I realize I have a long way to go, but maybe this searching and fearless moral inventory will set me towards a happy, healthy, optimistic Eagles-free life.
For now, go Phils.
Don’t blow it.
It may have been the worst performance I’ve ever seen, but at least no one fumbled a punt!
Gwen sent me in the direction of the Modern Spectator. Frankly, I can’t offer anything intelligible on the Phillies…. but I shall continue to read.
Louise (last seen sitting near the afore-mentioned bride at that mad Irish wedding you attended once upon a time)
There is no JUSTICE
— tyson Oct 4, 10:06 AM #