By Jon Kay
My name is Jon Kay, and I am many things. I am an American; born and raised. I am a New Jerseyan; raised after birth. I am Jew-ish and a college student and a very video game enthusiast, and a contributor to the greatest blog to ever grace this bountiful sphere (the one you are reading right now). But, above all, I am a Philadelphia Eagles maniac. And for you, dear reader – who has mayhaps not been lucky enough to be born bleeding midnight green – I will give you a whiff of what it is like to be a member of the joyous, rotten, depressing, and heart-meltingly welcoming cult of the Birds.
First, let’s start with the good: The Eagles organization is one of the most well-run and progressive organizations in the NFL. During the strike of ‘87, an episode in NFL history where many players refused to play in protest of the subpar bargaining agreement proposed by the owners of the team, every single Eagle – even the ones that weren’t so enthusiastic about the strike – did not cross the picket line (besides those that were injured and needed the team’s training staff to treat them, crossing only with their teammates’ blessing). They were one of, if not the only team to do so in the entire league that year. They were striking because the NFL treated the people that made their product, the players, like disposable and replaceable bodies that did not deserve basic protections awarded to other workers. (Sidenote: striking is a good thing. It advances the interests of workers and holds the rich and powerful accountable. If they didn’t work, the upper class would not put as many barriers in place as possible to prevent workers from doing so). Also, Eagles and former Eagles players like Malcolm Jenkins have been at the forefront of recent social justice movements, carrying on Colin Kaepernick’s legacy. It is no surprise the Eagles have been at the forefront of social justice movements in recent years as they have the most storied history of Black quarterbacks in the league. In fact, (other than Nick Foles and Norm Van Brocklin from the pre-Super Bowl era) the best quarterbacks in Eagles history have all been Black. Rodney Pete, Randall Cunningham, Donovan McNabb, Michael Vick and now Jalen Hurts have established that Black quarterbacks are the norm in Philadelphia. Further, since the transfer of ownership to current owner Jeffrey Lurie in 1994, we are the only team in the league to have more than 250 starts by Black quarterbacks (with the Eagles sending out a Black QB in 266 games out of possible 320-ish games in the Lurie era). It would not be a stretch to say that the Philadelphia Eagles helped normalize Black quarterbacks for the rest of the league. Also, we’ve done pretty damn well in those years. We’ve been to the most NFC Championship games (basically the game that gets you into the Super Bowl if you win) since the turn of the century, and we are now in our second Super Bowl in five years. We consistently hire incredible coaches, draft great players, and don’t cling on to them past their expiration date – unlike other teams that cling to the past (looking at you, Dallas). Also, on a personal note, the General Manager of the Eagles (the person that makes personnel decisions for the team), Howie Roseman, is my second cousin and he rocks. He rocks so much people have started making fancams for him.
But now, let’s get to the great: one time, my Eagles fan ancestors threw snowballs at Santa Claus. Eagles fans like me boo and throw batteries at players we don’t like; regardless of which side they’re playing for. We even throw our 15-dollar beers on people (we really like throwing things). The property damage that was caused after we won the Super Bowl cost upwards of seven digits. We had a jail in our stadium (which, by the way, no other stadium in the NFL has or had). We are belligerent and violent and spiteful; from the blue-collar workers to the actual Dean of UPenn. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. We want you to fear us. To be scared to walk in the city of Philadelphia with another team’s jersey on. To burst your eardrums with expletives. And while there are individual fans of other teams that are also some crazy peeps, there really is no fanbase like ours.
No fanbase is as passionate as we are. No team is as woven into the fabric of its city as the Philadelphia Eagles are. No other team on Earth has the power to end all violent crime in their city on the night they win a regular season game. Whether we are being arrested or catching babies from burning buildings, we are always eating, sleeping, and breathing them. The mood of the city sways upon their every win and loss, either turning the city Garfield orange or kelly green on Mondays after games. To be honest, though, that doesn’t really encapsulate what the team means to us. The city of Philadelphia is a city of underdogs. There’s a reason we built a statue to Rocky Balboa; because his story of overcoming the longest odds is a story Philadelphians aspire to. The city isn’t as flashy as LA or as glamorous as New York. Philly is tough, gritty, hard-working, and perceived by the rest of the country as such. Nothing exemplifies what we are or what the team is more than our last Super Bowl run. We were the underdogs in every game of the playoffs, despite having the best record in the NFL because our quarterback’s ACL did the stanky leg and decided to remove itself from his knee. We were playing with a backup quarterback who hadn’t played well in half a decade: Nick Foles. But then, we won our first game against the defending NFC champs. And then we beat the brakes off of the Vikings in the NFC Championship game. And then that same backup quarterback, ‘Big Dick Nick’ as he’s known far and wide, outplayed Tom Brady in his best Super Bowl performance ever. We won our first Super Bowl with a backup quarterback, with a coach that was rated the worst hire in the NFL the year before, against the greatest athlete who has ever lived, and the greatest coach in the league’s history – all while being doubted every step of the way. The Eagles aren’t “America’s Team” like the Dallas Chokers (5 playoff wins in 28 years), and we wouldn’t want to share them with the rest of America anyway. Because the rest of America hates us. They hate us for loving our team in a way they never could. They hate us for being loud and passionate and they hate us for winning so much and they hate us because we let them know that their team sucks and they hate us because we don’t welcome outsiders in our stadium. When it’s gameday, the entire city and population of Philly dress like it’s Saint Patrick’s Day (and drink like it too). The truth is, other NFL fans hate us because they wish they were born an Eagles fan. But that’s okay. Because – to end on the immortal words of one of the greatest Eagles of all time and Super Bowl LII (and soon to be LVII) Champion Jason Kelce, dressed in traditional Philly mummer attire, – “We’re from Philly, fucking Philly, no one likes us, we don’t care.”
