There seems to be an awful lot of Eagles fans hoping the team falls on its sword again on Sunday. They actually want them to lose to the Cowboys.
Don’t hold your breath waiting for me to join them. I just can't do it.
I may not pick them Saturday morning when I make that regular weekend feature of The Heron’s Nest, otherwise known as “The Dreaded Saturday Eagles Pick,” but even if I pick against them, I will still be rooting for them on Sunday.
And living and dying with every snap.
The thinking by these alleged “fans” is that one more loss is one step closer to the end of the Andy Reid era. I can’t say I blame them. I’m as tired of Mr. “I’ve Got To Do a Better Job” as they are. But I still can’t bring myself to cheer against them.
Certainly not this week. Have we forgotten who is striding into the Linc Sunday afternoon? I have not.
I still get filled with revulsion with every glimpse of those gaudy helmets with the stars on them.
I haven’t forgotten “America’s Team.”
I haven’t forgotten the years that Tom Landry delighted in rubbing our noses in Dallas’ superiority.
I haven’t forgotten LeRoy Jordan’s vicious elbow that took out some of Timmy Brown’s dental work.
I haven’t forgotten Charlie Waters laying out Harold Carmichael with a wicked shot along the sidelines, thus ending his streak of consecutive games with a catch.
I was delirious watching Buddy Ryan fake a kneel-down at the end of a game the Eagles had in hand, instead ordering Randall Cunningham to throw a long pass to Mike Quick. The Birds scored on the next play, delighting the crazies in the 700 level of Veterans Stadium. Buddy said he did to avenge the Cowboys' use of many of their regulars and running up the score in the scab game during the strike earlier in the season.
More importantly, Buddy “got” it, and he got us, Eagles fans. With one long pass he became a folk hero in this town. I will never forget it.
I also will never forget one of the lowest moments I’ve encountered as an Eagles fan. It was a Monday night. I was working nights back then, shepherding a front page based on the Eagles in Dallas on a Monday night. Ty Detmer took the Eagles down the field in a furious last-minute rally. They were ready to kick the game-winning field goal when, inexplicably, the holder, punter Tommy Hutton, dropped the ball. When I finally left the office and started the drive home, I noticed something odd. Every guy you saw at every red light at that late hour was in the same agony as you were. No, I will not forget.
I also will not forget what I still consider the greatest moment in Philadelphia sports history. All you have to say is “Wilbert off right tackle.” I still think there should be a plaque at that spot in what is now a parking lot where the gritty Montgomery arrived in the end zone in a frigid Veterans Stadium, setting off a euphoria that had been building up in Eagles fans for decades. It was still as cold as I’ve ever been in my life. And as happy.
Cheer against the Eagles? Not this Sunday. Not against the Cowboys.
Not ever!
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