The Year I Became a Philadelphia Eagles Fan

“Well, that’s interesting,” I thought, and quickly reminded myself that I remained a loyal Pittsburgh Steelers fan. Watching football, though, was at that juncture low on my list of “cultural” priorities. I was about to embark on what would become six years of preparation to teach literature.

And that’s how it all remained for years. Throughout the '70s, however, it wasn’t hard to remain a distant Steelers fan (they won), and much later it became apparent that all the Steel Boys played for arguably the best major sports franchise in America. They played the game correctly; their players remained loyal to the city; they won more than they lost. They certainly won more than the Eagles did.

Moreover, as time moved on, the Eagles seemed to represent disturbing aspects of NFL fandom. As the Vet wound down toward its implosion, there were far too many reports of violence in the 700-level, of urination in the men’s room sinks, of cheering other teams’ injured players. As a cultural phenomenon, Eagle fans’ “enthusiasm” seemed far too fueled by alcohol and, well, hatred. Nonetheless, I kept half an eye on the team during football season.

Then, in a seemingly boneheaded move, Michael Vick was invited in. What was it that team management didn’t understand about serially killing animals being an indicator of sociopathy? This was the player the Eagles chose to represent the city in its highest profile position?

In the end, Vick’s seeming change for the better off the field and some success on it were merely the last positive pieces of the allegedly good years under coach Andy Reid. Bottom line: In 2012, the team seemed only interested in filling its fairly new venue with fans; the outcome of the games be damned. At least, by all reports, male fans at the Linc used the sinks as sinks.

New coach, new era

Then came Kelly, former Oregon coach Chip Kelly, who promised a new, upbeat offense and, as time progressed, a new culture, including a new training regimen. The new Eagles promptly limped out of the gate 3-5, but Kelly, his staff and his players remained positive. The quarterback’s job passed from Vick to young Nick Foles, a player more mature than he looks, with a decent sense of humor. (He recently corrected a sportswriter’s assertion that he ran a 5.3 40-yard dash. He ran a 5.2, said Foles.) Nonetheless, Foles running the ball resembled The Wizard of Oz’s Tin Man. When he did run, however, the Yellow Brick Road was usually open. Moreover, Kelly’s other offensive plays were just different enough to make the Eagles the most interesting team in the NFL. Something new was going on. Even Riley Cooper, who drunkenly dropped a racial slur on camera at a summer concert, was somehow elevated — by play design — from a second-rate pass catcher to at least 1A level. More important, by my count only one African-American player on the team, newcomer Cary Williams, was reported to be significantly disturbed by Cooper’s verbal slip. Williams’ dissatisfaction was reported once; apparently, he then dropped the subject. Something positive seemed to be going on in the locker room.

What was happening on the field, however, mattered more.

Sports fans choose sports as entertainment, sometimes (some of us also read, attend classical concerts, and so forth), because sport is real. It is one-time, it is not made-up, it is immediate.

Kelly’s team was proving to be more immediate than any other, and they were winning behind a 24-year-old quarterback and the league’s most talented running back, LeSean McCoy. The suspect defense was proving to be gritty enough.

Then for the first time in decades, I actually attended an Eagles game, the win over Arizona. I decided that day current Eagles culture was possibly worth embracing. Eagles fans actually do sing the team’s fight song in the stands as though we’re all still in high school. For years I had suspected that TV broadcasts exaggerated that by placing microphones near small bands of singers. And the fan a row in front of us in Cardinal Larry Fitzgerald’s jersey was left largely unharmed. (To be plain for the uninitiated, this means he was unharmed, mild verbal abuse notwithstanding.)

The following week McCoy improbably zigged and zagged through eight inches of snow to a single-game team record for rushing yards. I was hooked. It was like a John Coltrane recording or a Randall Jarrell poem running for three hours. It didn’t inspire me to sing “Fly, Eagles Fly” in my living room, but....

Across the street, neighbors fly a flag bearing the logos of both the Steelers and Eagles and the legend “A House Divided.” (Where did they get that?) I don’t think it applies to me anymore.

For those who refuse sports out of hand, you missed something special in Philadelphia this year.