Philly Cheese

I get it, Eagles fans. The last time your team won the NFL championship was… 1960?

Wow. That's a long time ago. So. Lots of pent up "thank God without seeing the Eagles win a championship!" kind of energy. I understand. You've got to let that wild piglet chi out and let it run shirtless through the arc lit night of your deep subconscious.

I think I remember how you feel…

There were years of horror we experienced as Patriots fans. They were terrible or they were tragic. They once lost a Super Bowl by the largest margin in the history of the Super Bowl. (A record since broken but still, it set the bar for Super Bowl futility.) My emotional memory of the Patriots of the 20th Century is a motley assemblage of pigskin talent that somehow lost more than they won. Their best players always seemed to win rings with other teams. Mike Haynes. Russ Francis. It was terrible being a Patriots fan. Miami had the perfect season. Buffalo went to four straight Super Bowl games. (What if Scott Norwood makes that FGA?) The Jets had Namath and The Guarantee. And the Patriots… Well, they had a couple Super Bowl losses. There was that.

And then came 2001. (And everything after that but I won't bore you with the details.) It was perhaps my most incredible, joyous, transcendent moment as a sports fan. (I should make a list, having experienced the 1981, 1986, and 2007 Celtics, the 2004 and 2007 Red Sox, SB49 and SB51 since then. Good times.) I celebrated unabashedly after SB36. I didn't urinate in public or hurt myself and others while drunk or sing out of tune or anything like that but I still managed to have a totally chill time. Whether because of or in spite of hardly matters. I hope I'm never in a situation that requires me going to my happy place but if it does, I'll go back to when Adam Vinatieri's kick went end over end through the flash of a thousand photos and between the uprights for the win.

Maybe it's even a little hard to remember how balls out awesome that game-winning drive by the Patriots was, quarterbacked by the unathletic 6th round pick out of Michigan, Thomas Edward Patrick Brady, Jr. The numbers for Brady overall, as the pigskin pundits and bobbleheads will remind you, were hardly great. But that final drive of the game was The Moment. 1:21. No timeouts. Brady escaping for a short pass completion on the first play of the drive. John Madden clutching his pearls. "Take a knee, young lad! Take a knee! Play for overtime! Take a knee!" Brady with his assassin's face on. JR Redmond is gashing you, St. Louis! JR Redmond! The strike to Troy Brown. The spike. Cool. The Icy Commander hands the ball to the official and steps off into history. The field goal is not chip shot but Vinatieri drains it.

Every fan in any sport deserves that moment once in their life.

Hm. Where was I? Did I go back to 2001 again? Yeah? Sorry. Oh, right! Philly fans!

So, I get it, Philly fans. I see you! It feels good. Let your freak flag fly. Dance like no one is looking. Or like everyone is looking if you prefer that. Post an image of your bucket list with "Eagles win SB" crossed out on Instagram with the caption, "Suck it, Reaper!" A billboard seems so 19th century shaving products but, okay, put up a billboard! Change your profile picture to your favorite dog mask. You be you!

As for me, the one thing you learn over the years is this: Yesterday is a long way away. It's illusive. Hard to hold onto.

And equally impossible to change.

As Debi says in "Grosse Pointe Blank," you've got to "forget about forgiving and just accept."

As a Patriots fan over the last two decades it's been a sweet ride. But last year's ride is over. Now, it's time to get back in line to give the conductor my ticket one more time.

It isn't over yet.