I spent a lot of time this weekend trying to figure out just what it would mean if the Eagles won the Super Bowl.
I put my thoughts into Sunday's editorial.
And then I revisited it in today's Monday Letter From the Editor print column.
I thought about my dad, the man who preferred to listen to the games on the radio than watch them on TV.
I thought about my father-in-law, who accepted me into his family from my future wife and I's first date, hours after the Eagles lost a playoff game. We commiserated, and this longtime Eagles season ticket holder loved the idea that his daughter was dating a fellow longtime Iggles fan.
I thought about my brother Dennis, my cousin Tom and our group of guys who spent all those years up in the 700 Level of the Vet.
I talked to my son and daughter, both of whom spent many years tiptoeing around their old man on Sundays, knowing just how important this was to him.
It was not until last night that I realized the acorn did not fall far from the tree. My son was speechless as the Eagles delivered. He didn't have to wait nearly as long as his dad and his beloved 'Pop-Pop' did.
I was stunned at how calm I was as I watched the game, and Tweeted through the night.
I wish I could say the same for my wife, who knows the game better than most any guy I know. She was a basket case.
When that last desperation pass from Tom Brady finally fell incomplete in the end zone, I hugged my wife. I couldn't really speak. I hope she knows what it meant to me.
I hope all of you do.
At 10:17 p.m., the Underdogs became Top Dogs.
We're not losers any more.
We're Super Bowl Champions.
I was beginning to wonder if this was ever going to happen.
When it finally did, I wasn't quite sure how to react.
The truth? It feels pretty damn good.
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