God is dead
— Alex Trebek Jr. (@Broadway_Johnny) December 11, 2017
You can best understand me if we start on Saturday night. I attended a Christmas party with friends, one thing lead to another, and all of a sudden I was the drunkest guy in the zip code. Being as that was, I left my phone at said party and had to drive back on Sunday morning. Someone thought it was a good idea to get a brunch crew together and soon I was once again one of tri-state area’s biggest disappointments.
You say “I don’t give a shit about any of this” and I say it’s important because I blacked the hell out and forgot anything even tangentially related to the Eagles game. That being true, I could still feel in my balls that something wasn’t right. This feeling was given credence after I woke up on a couch at 11pm, ordered an Uber after I found my car parked in, and had my driver offhandedly mention that our sweet sweet boy “busted his got damn leg”. Memories flooded back into my skull like I was a vet back in a Vietnamese jungle surrounded by Charlie.
Here’s the reality: the best we can hope for Wentz is that he makes a full physical and psychological recovery before next September. I think I can speak for most of the fan base when I say that he’s almost permanently won us over with his play and personality. Who knows how many washed up Delco football players were ready to offer up their ACL to this guy. For better or worse, he’s our messiah. It’s totally subjective, but football fans can feel in their gut whether they’re watching a good or great team. On a 3rd and 12 when he impossibly slips a collapsed pocket and zips the ball through coverage, you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Wentz was that difference. It’s undeniable that the kid has the kind of magic in him that makes an impact on every drive and can animate a whole team.
Some among us are choosing to forget this because “Big Dick” Foles has had some truly special moments as an NFL quarterback. This has led a lot of fans to act like he’s going to be the second coming of 2006 Jeff Garcia with a full head of hair and without the erectile dysfunction. The four stages of Philly fandom are apathy, a glimmer of hope, belief in the possibility of something special happening, and then soul-crushing failure. That’s what that kind of unwarranted optimism sets us up for and there’s a good reason that Foles couldn’t beat out Trevor Siemian or Brett Hundley for a job. I’ve been quoted saying as saying other not so great stuff about Nick Foles in midnight green, but here we are.
If I have to watch Nick Foles a single snap this season I'll set myself on fire
— Alex Trebek Jr. (@Broadway_Johnny) October 15, 2017
I’m forgetting I ever said any of that, and you’re forgetting about the four stages of fandom that always end up with you face down at Mummers mumbling “maybe next year”. I often say “believe in something”, and it’s one of those phrases I use just for the sake of making words with my mouth. I never think it means anything, but I remember in times like these that it does. A French songwriter who I don’t care to Google once said that she had two loves, her country and Paris. My two loves are this city and these fucking birds. The playoffs are next month. Time to dig in and believe in something.
Written by John Renzi