On Super Bowl Sunday, I'll be cheering for the Philadelphia Eagles. This will make me part of a tiny minority in Rhode Island. But I won't be alone. Even though she'll be 300 miles away, I'll have Mom with me.
On Super Bowl Sunday, I’ll be cheering for the Philadelphia Eagles.
This will make me part of a tiny minority in Rhode Island. But I won’t be alone. Even though she’ll be 300 miles away, I’ll have Mom with me.
I grew up 30 miles from Philadelphia, in the small town of Harleysville, Pennsylvania. I was a fan of the Phillies, the 76ers and the Flyers, and I still keep track of all those teams. But the Eagles are different, because the Eagles are about Mom.
Many of my favorite memories from childhood are about the Eagles and Mom. These memories go back to the 1980 season, when the Eagles made it to the Super Bowl for the first time. They lost to the Raiders, 27-10. It was the worst day of my 4-year-old life.
I remember the way Mom would pick me up and twirl me around the room after a big play. I remember Mom teaching me little life lessons during the games: It’s not appropriate to pray for the Eagles to win, because God has more important things to worry about; never cheer for an injury, even if the player is on the Cowboys or the Giants. I remember the arguments we would have when the Eagles weren’t doing well — how I’d always defend my favorite players while Mom would call it like she saw it.
We watched together through the eras of Dick Vermiel, Marion Campbell, Buddy Ryan and Rich Kotite; from Ron Jaworski to Randall Cunningham, with a little bit of Jim McMahon and Bubby Brister thrown in there somewhere. Through good times and bad.
Then came 1994, when I arrived in Boston as a college freshman. I never really went home again. Surrounded by Patriots fans, I kind of became one myself. The Patriots have played 427 regular-season and playoff games since I moved to New England, and I’ve wanted them to win 421 of those games.
In our conversations, Mom will sometimes refer to them as “your Patriots.” It stings a little. Whatever; when the Patriots play the Eagles, they’re just another team.
Thirteen years ago, the Eagles played the Patriots in Super Bowl XXXIX. On that Super Sunday morning, I drove the 300 miles back to Harleysville to watch the game with Mom. Just in case.
The 2004 Eagles were good, but the 2004 Patriots were great. I knew the odds were against us, and although the game was close, it never really felt like we had a chance to win. When it was over, I gave Mom a long hug.
While the glory kept coming for the Patriots, the Eagles would win just three playoff games over the next 12 seasons. Until this season.
When I look at my cellphone, the story of the season is told in the text messages that Mom and I have sent back and forth since Week One, a win in Washington. I began to suspect that it might be a special season after a hard-earned Thursday night win in Carolina. At the end of that game, I texted Mom the team’s record: 5-1. A week later, I texted, 6-1. Then 7-1, 8-1, 9-1. I was on an international flight when the Eagles blew out the Bears the next week, but when I landed in Peru and checked my messages, there it was, from Mom: 10-1.
At that point, the Eagles were the best team in the NFL. But two weeks later, quarterback Carson Wentz tore up his knee, and everything changed. The Eagles went into the playoffs as the top seed in the NFC, but they were underdogs in the divisional round against the sixth-seeded Falcons.
That game was a roller-coaster. With just a minute left in the fourth quarter, and the Eagles clinging to a 15-10 lead, Atlanta moved less than 10 yards from the go-ahead touchdown. My cellphone buzzed with a message from Mom: “I thought I was ready for this but I am going to cry.”
Although I didn’t have much myself, I told her to keep the faith.
Then something unusual — darn near unprecedented — happened. In a big situation, in the playoffs, the Eagles stopped the Falcons' drive and won the game. My Mom’s final text that night: “I’m so happy.”
One week later, the underdog Eagles blew out the Vikings for the NFC championship, and here we are, looking at another Super Sunday matchup with the Patriots. I won’t be driving to Pennsylvania though; it didn’t work out last time. I will be sending plenty of texts.
Eagles fans have a tough reputation. They have this reputation for a reason. But to me, being an Eagles fan is about something much more significant. It’s about a franchise that’s played in the NFL since 1933. It’s about grandfathers and grandmothers, uncles and aunts, fathers and daughters, mothers and sons. All aching for a feeling we’ve never had — to celebrate a Super Bowl championship.
On Sunday night, if the Eagles can make Mom happy again, then I’ll be very happy, too.