Monday evening’s loss in Los Angeles was a throwback for Eagles fans.
Beyond the analogies to previous collapses, inept offenses and disastrous coaching performances, the Birds’ overtime gut punch at the hands of the Chargers evoked a deeper feeling in me as an Eagles fan, one that was once so commonplace that I haven’t felt in years.
I try to be as optimistic as possible as an Eagles fan, certainly to a fault. I remember some lean years during my lifetime and am cognizant of how there were rough stretches for fans of previous generations. 8-4 going into that game with a slam-dunk chance of winning the NFC East? The fan of my late teens and early 20s is signing his life away for that.
Something felt truly broken on Monday at SoFi Stadium, sure. When your supposed franchise quarterback who’s achieved the highest of highs in the sport plays the worst game of his career in a season that’s an utter disappointment from both he and the team overall, that’s brutal.
Again, there was more at play though.
Perhaps it was as simple as that game was a late kickoff that went to overtime and was over after midnight, so fans like myself immediately hopped into bed, hoping to sleep away these frustrations, but were ultimately left staring at the ceiling all night, unable to sleep and shake away the feeling that this title defense is all but officially over.
I have a nice life! I have a great wife, family and friends. I have witnessed two Super Bowl champion teams in under a decade. I have it good, but that loss, the nature of which felt like maybe the end of this era flat out, sunk me to the point I could not sleep.
It was reminiscent of those pre-Super Bowl days where the pursuit of Philadelphia’s first Lombardi Trophy was the be all, end all of our collective existence. I think back to how despondent I was during a few devastating turns for this franchise, the 2017 Rams game or the 2014 Saturday afternoon road game against Washington come to my mind from my early 20s, convinced that I would never see a February parade down Broad Street. I’ve reached that apex now twice, but setbacks like that OT devastation simply serve to remind you of the woes of the world that extend beyond the football field as your mind races, jointly concerned about the offensive line’s run-block as you may be about paying the bills on time.
It is “just” football to most, but it’s never been that to Philadelphia. If you’re reading this, I’m sure you can feel that in your bones, too. I may be drowning in Eagles hate and a fair share of self-loathing at the moment, but I know I’ll be saying, “Is it Sunday yet?” by Thursday. Such is the life that’s been chosen for us as Birds fans.
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