Annual Eagles Column Year 9: Great(er) Expectations?
Editor’s Note:
Welcome to Year 9 of my annual Eagles Column. If you’re new here — and we love newcomers 👋 — as a quick introduction, it has become tradition that every summer when the Eagles report for training camp, I write a column. As the folklore around it has evolved, it has become my pride and joy — by far the biggest part of my personal brand. The column got its start being somewhat analytical in nature, however we now often take a more metaphorical look at the state of the franchise. The 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021 columns can all be viewed at their respective links.
Let’s take a beat for a second and reflect on what it means to be nine years old. We probably just mastered and then quickly forgot how to write in cursive. Perhaps we’re learning long division before realizing later in life that most times, you really can use a calculator. We’re likely tall enough to ride the fun roller coasters at the amusement park and possess the attention span to read some books without pictures on every page. While the stress of ‘fitting in’ and making friends is ever present, it’s not a bad time of life overall.
I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mention that it happened to be the number that Nick Foles wore during his two tours of service as an Eagle, and this is where everything starts to intersect.
You see, in order to fully enjoy and appreciate our ninth birthday, I have to acknowledge how close it was to almost not happening, and in order to understand why it did happen, you have to go back, back to the beginning [cue some emotional Hilary Duff lyrics].
As I said, these days the column often takes a much more fan fiction type of approach, but the 2014 pilot version was centered around Foles. At the time, the Eagles third-year quarterback was the talk of the summer. Everyone, and I mean everyone, had an opinion about Foles as he was set to enter the season as the unquestioned starter for the first time. Long before he was a Super Bowl MVP, he was THE discussion amongst NFL circles heading into the 2014 season. Your friend’s cousin Bob who lives in Iowa and has never watched a down of football in his life had an opinion about Nick Foles.
You had an opinion about Nick Foles. You may not have realized it, but you most certainly had one, and while you might have mostly kept yours to yourself, anyone connected to NFL media in any form made sure to share theirs. There were no less than 50 thinkpieces about him, and trust me when I say that I read all of them — every single one.
I was unemployed at the time, and as I searched for a way to get my adult life started in a way that I wanted to start it, these served as a bit of a mental break for me. As I read more and more that spanned super negative, super positive, and everywhere in between, I reached one main takeaway:
‘Most of these fucking suck. I can do so much better than this.’
And thus the inaugural column was born.
So why do I mention this now? After a pretty successful nearly eight years of my career, I once again found myself unemployed this summer due to a layoff.
I’ve had bad moments during it. In the early days, there were mornings where I didn’t feel like getting out of bed, let alone sitting down with a laptop, coming up with an original idea, and writing more than 13,000 words.
I thought about taking the year off, and I know I’ve alluded to that in past editions, but this was the most serious contemplation. I didn’t know if I had it in me to deliver, and I didn’t want to put out a bad product just to keep the tradition going.
Then I started to think about how and why the column got its start. I realized that the August 2014 version of myself would be proud of the August 2022 version of myself and all I accomplished in between. He would tell me that everything was gonna be okay and to write the column.
So then I started making some notes on my phone. I sat down with the laptop, started typing, and 13,654 words later, here we are.
As in past years, the column has been strategically broken out into chapters so you can take breaks if you need to — akin to reading a good book, with each chapter corresponding to a song title. Unlike past years, we have added a new feature on top of that because we give a damn about your reading (and listening experience). Some folks like to read in silence. Others like to bump some music while they read. You will see that each chapter title links out to the respective song on Spotify, so you can jam out to the column if you so choose.
While we of course cater to an Eagles demographic, the column truthfully requires little to no football nor Eagles knowledge to understand and appreciate.
I have two final notes before you embark on this adventure.
- My Venmo handle is @Drew-Balis. The column is absolutely free, and this is not an obligation, but if you particularly enjoy the column, we do welcome tips. Money isn’t everything, but it helps ensure writers like myself will continue to invest the time and effort into delivering quality content.
- If you like what you read, it would mean the absolute world to me if you shared it. Tweet out the link, post it on Facebook, text it in your group chat. My goal on Column Day is for this link to be everywhere on the Internet.
A big thank you to everyone who has supported the column in the past, to those who will support it this year, and to those who will support it hopefully far into the future.
I sincerely hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
Chapter 1: Desert Plains
Wednesday, May 11, 8:03 pm ET
This is bad. This is really bad. ‘Oh My God, it’s happening!’ you think to yourself.
Wait. ‘Why was that the first thing that popped into my head?’ you wonder.
You don’t particularly like The Office. You hate Michael Scott. For anyone who’s ever had an incompetent manager, he’s too real to be funny.
You thumb through your phone to try to buy time, dreading what you’re about to report to Eagles brass inside the NovaCare Complex.
It’s Schedule Release Eve, and needless to say, tensions are high. The leaks are already underway, and you’re anxious to know the Week 1 opponent. The only people arguably more anxious than you — and rest assured it’s close — are Nick Sirianni and his coaching staff.
Nick breaks the silence, and he has eerie timing as an alert comes across your screen.
“What we got?!” Nick shouts. “Talk to me.”
“It’s not good,” you reply back in a concerned voice while holding your phone up so Nick can see.
“Cardinals, eh,” Nick says while taking a second look at your screen. “Hey everyone, looks like we’re in Arizona Week 1. Let’s start thinking about it.”
Nick forms his right hand into a fist and reaches out in your direction.
“Nick, no,” you say. “I’m really bummed. This is awful news. If you told me the one team that I didn’t want to face in the opener, this would be it. This is the worst possible outcome.”
You pace around, trying to calm down as images of Larry Fitzgerald and John Brown galloping through an open field run rampant through your head.
“Come on man,” says Nick. “It’s not so bad. We’ll be ready to go. Kyler’s upset with the contract. Hop suspended.”
You ruffle your fingers through your hair. An impressive rookie season nonetheless, Nick still has a lot to learn, and you’re about to fill him in.
“Nick, we haven’t won in Arizona in over 20 years. You were in college at Mount Union the last time we played a good game out there.”
“It will be okay,” Nick says, while placing his hand on your shoulder.
You’re about to reply that it’s not and it won’t before something pops into your head. You run to your laptop and pull up Twitter again to double check something.
“What is it?” Nick asks.
“These leaks are getting out of control,” you answer. “I could have sworn I saw a few hours ago that Arizona was playing someone else in Week 1. I think it was the Chiefs actually because I remember thinking that’s a real intriguing QB matchup.
So we might not open with Arizona after all. HOLY SHIT. We might not have Arizona after all!”
Nick blows a whistle that pierces through the room. You rush to cover your ears.
“Everyone, let’s take the night,” Nick shouts to the room. “We might have jumped the gun here. Mighttt not be Arizona Week 1.”
‘Let us pray’ you mutter under your breath while closing up your laptop and slipping your phone back into the pocket of your jeans.
Chapter 2: Panic In Detroit
Thursday, May 12, 8:46 am ET
You chug some water, rub the remnants of sleep from your eyes, and open your laptop, returning to your same post inside NovaCare as last night. Schedule Release Day while exciting is stressful. While nothing is confirmed yet, morale is low coming off last night.
“Nothing yet,” you yell out to the room.
You can’t help but think this is weird, especially how much the release this year was promoted. Sure, you know you got the Vikings for the home opener in Week 2. That means you’ll of course be on the road Week 1, but you didn’t need an announcement to tell you that. You had it figured out months ago looking at the Phillies schedule and seeing they were home Week 1.
You’ve done this before. You accurately predicted the 2017 Week 1 opponent in Washington. This ain’t your first schedule release rodeo. This year your guess was the Texans, and that probably won’t be right, but it’s okay. The only priority now is figuring out who it’s gonna be.
You peer over and see an intern repeatedly saying “Not Arizona” while watching a YouTube clip of Harry Potter with the sorting hat.
“I tried that last year,” you say. “Doesn’t work. I got Pat Mahomes on my fucking birthday.”
“I’m gonna go to my office and watch some film,” says Nick. “Call me when we got something.”
Just as Nick’s hand reaches for the door, your phone buzzes. “Nick wait!” you yell. “I think we might have something. Nobody move.”
Holy shit. Holy shit. Your heart begins to race. “We’re saved! We did it!”
“What is it?” yells someone from the back of the room. You can’t make out who said it. Everyone’s sleep deprived. It’s too early for voice recognition.
“Detroit! We got Detroit in Week 1. No Arizona. The opener is saved!”
“Can we trust this leak?” asks Nick while turning back around and walking towards you.
“We can. We absolutely can,” you say. “This is from Jeff McLane. Verified account. Completely legit. I’d bet my life on it. We open in Detroit, and we’re gonna be 1–0.”
You didn’t mean that. Adrenaline got the better of you there.
“Okay, folks,” shouts Nick. “You heard what he said. Tape on Detroit. Let’s do it.”
The room empties out to the point where it’s just you and Nick. The roles are now reversed from last night. You lean in for a full high five, bro hug combo and are left hanging.
“Damn Nick, I thought you’d be excited. No Arizona Week 1. We got Detroit. This is a great morning.”
“I’m glad you’re excited, man, but we still gotta win the game. We’re not 1–0 yet,” says Nick.
“I know. I know,” you respond. “I’ll be the first to admit that I got carried away there, but I don’t think you understand what road games in Arizona have done to this fanbase. To open there would have been catastrophic, and I’m not being facetious. I get why you can’t relate to that. You weren’t here, but trust me when I say it was bad.”
Nick ushers you towards the door. “You’ve made it incredibly clear that it was bad.”
You’re able to take a hint.
“It was good hanging with you,” you say as you walk out into the bright May sun.
The last big moment of the offseason is complete. Sure, there’s memorizing the Lions depth chart later tonight and going through the rest of the schedule, but the headline act is out of the way before 9 am.
You’re onto Detroit. We’re onto Detroit.
Chapter 3: Two Tickets To Paradise
Tuesday, June 7th, 9:42 am
You place a gray breakfast bowl in the dishwasher and race over to your couch where a freshly charged laptop awaits.
You didn’t know it 26 days prior, but there was actually one more moment.
Your fingers stroke the keys at a rapid pace, successfully logging into Ticketmaster on multiple browsers.
You give yourself — and perhaps the machine — a pep talk. “Come 10 am, we better be firing on all cylinders. Zero fuckery.”
Your wife Jaime asks what you’re talking about from the other room. “Eagles training camp tickets on sale at 10 am. Gotta be ready to go.”
While nervous, this setup is far superior to that of four years ago where you had to do this from a chaotic office.
9:59 gives way to 10:00 on your cell phone, still donning Nick Foles inspired wallpaper from the Super Bowl.
Your fingers go back to work. The tickets are yours before your phone strikes 10:03.
You’re excited. This is the first time you’ll be at training camp since 2018 — the last time the franchise won a playoff game. A wedding forced you to miss it in 2019 followed by the disarray of 2020. You considered making the trip last year but ultimately decided against it.
You’re not missing it this summer.
Little do you know in this moment of bliss that things are about to get much rockier. A shitstorm of massive proportions is coming, but for now, life is good.
Chapter 4: Future Looks Good
Sunday, August 7th, 4:22 pm
The glistening sun beats down on your back as you exit Citizens Bank Park into the open South Philadelphia air.
One person’s dog days of summer are another person’s savored moments. Go time in Detroit is still 35 days away. Nothing bad has happened yet.
You pull a still mostly buttoned Cliff Lee jersey up over your head, exchanging it for a Brandon Graham one.
It’s incredibly, incredibly, incredibly rare for you to leave a baseball game early, but you’ll make an exception for what’s about to happen.
You cross the street at a swift pace, making your way towards Lincoln Financial Field for the first time since late November of last year. Upon flashing your Pennsylvania driver license as ID, a security guard waves you in. Another escorts you up a flight of stairs where several offices sit.
“He’s ready for you,” says the second guard, waving you towards the door.
Even though you were expecting this, the anticipation still raises your heart rate as you open the door to see Nick Sirianni sitting behind his desk.
“What’s up, man!” shouts Nick. “Did they win?”
You’re somewhat surprised to hear that as his first question less than three hours before running a training camp practice in front of 40,000 closely watching fans.
“They were up 8–1 in the ninth when I left,” you say.
[Editor’s note:] The column was penned in late July and was intended to be from the future point of view. Life slowed down the actual publication, but we have to credit our prediction ability — more on that later — here. The Phillies were in fact up 8–1 in the eighth inning prior to scoring an additional five runs to take a 13–1 lead heading into the ninth inning.
“Wait a second! Wait a second,” says Nick. The tone of his voice indicates complete shock at what he’s hearing.
“YOU left a baseball game early? Who the fuck are you?!”
You’re not sure whether to laugh or seriously respond, so you choose a mix of both.
“LOL, I mean Big Dom said you wanted to talk to me, and I imagine you got a lot going on before practice starts. The Eagles will always take first priority for me even if it means leaving a baseball game early. You know that.
Plus, I never say no to Big Dom after last summer.”
Nick nods approvingly. “I can’t argue with that. I’ve been here 20 months, and I haven’t once said no to Big Dom either.”
Chapter 5: We Don’t Talk Anymore
Sunday, August 7th, 4:27 pm
Nick motions for you to take a seat across from him.
“What’d you want to chat about?” you ask while settling into your chair.
“Can you believe this, man?!” says Nick. “We’re back. You made it to camp this year.”
“We’re back,” you say with a slightly subdued smile.
It’s been a weird summer. While you expect the season to be a massive respite for what you’ve gone through the past two months, your usual excitement hasn’t fully ramped up yet with the real thing still five weeks away.
Nick clears his throat and starts over.
“I know Schedule Release Eve and the following morning was kinda hectic and we didn’t get to talk much, so I just wanted to thank you.”
You appear pensive.
“I appreciate that Nick, but I’m kinda confused about what exactly you’re thanking me for?”
“Last year. Last summer,” replies Nick. “What you said during that car ride with Big Dom was really helpful. I kept all that in mind when we started off 2–5 — The power dynamics, navigating the press conferences, and the interviews with Angelo.”
You of course remember this well and fondly, but it’s admittedly been a while since you thought about it.
“Your predictions too,” adds Nick. “People weren’t kidding when they said you were good. You had us 9–8. You did have us missing the playoffs, so you missed on that, but you did say that if we beat Atlanta in Week 1, then we’d be a playoff team.
Everything is now running through your head. The start of this conversation has invigorated you.
“That’s not all,” you tack on. “I called Landon Dickcerson starting.
The Goedert contract extension.
I was ready. I had a good idea of what was gonna happen. I mean hell, this doesn’t apply to us, but I even picked the Rams to win the Super Bowl. I was on a heater last year like it was 2017.”
Chapter 6: Under Pressure
Sunday, August 7th, 4:36 pm
“So watchu think this year?” Nick asks. “I know you say you don’t publish any predictions until a few days before the season, but come on. Are we going to the Super Bowl?”
Whoa. This just took an unexpected turn.
“Nick, let’s not do this,” you say whilst standing up and pacing around the room. “We don’t need to do this.”
“Oh come on, man,” says Nick. “I won’t tell anyone. It can still be a surprise when you publish it.”
“It’s not that, Nick. It’s the Super Bowl question. I don’t want to talk about that right now. Ask me something else. Anything. Anything else.”
“Alright. How’d I do last year?”
Phew. You did not think you were getting off the topic so easily. That was significantly less painless than you expected.
“I thought you did very well, Nick,” you say calmly while sitting back down.
“You made the playoffs as a rookie head coach. You took a 4-win team and went 9–8. You completely changed the entire identity of the offense on the fly. That’s not easy to do. I just wish Jeffrey let you do it a game or two earlier and we could have had another W.”
You attempt to wink before the end of the last sentence. You’ve never been able to wink, and unfortunately this time is no exception.
“I don’t expect you to respond to the last part,” you add. “I know there’s certain things you can’t talk about. My friend and I have a joke, basically ‘Let Jeffrey hire coaches forever because he doesn’t miss. Keep him the hell away from the offensive meetings and the draft room.’ I won’t talk your ear off with all that.”
“I appreciate the compliment in the first part,” responds Nick while fidgeting with his hands. “Do you think people liked me? You know the pulse of the fanbase. You’re always listening to what they’re saying. Do you think people liked me?”
Nick appears anxious as he finishes the question.
“I think a lot of fans like you,” you begin. “You have to understand, you know, no one wants to hate the coach of their favorite team. Even with Hall of Fame level coaches, we come to hate certain tendencies or behaviors over time, but no one wants to not like the coach of their own team.
I was pretty in from the start. I think you won a lot of people over with the second half run, and keeping the team together. Even the folks who might still be skeptical of you, they wanna like you, trust me.
My biggest advice coming off your first year, Nick, would be to just be yourself. Don’t worry so much if they like you or not and in turn, they’ll be more likely to like you.”
Nick interjects. “What do you mean by that exactly?”
“Just be yourself,” you say casually. “You’re an energetic, likable guy. Just be you. I’ll give you an example. Let’s go back to the Broncos game last year, alright?”
Nick nods.
“DeVonta scores that second touchdown and does the ‘Let Your Nuts Hang’ celebration. After the game, you’re asked about it and you say ‘I’m a big Michigan Basketball fan because of the Fab Five, BUT I like Temple and Villanova too!’
Just say you like Michigan basketball. Not everything has to pander to sports fans in the city.”
Nick begins laughing at that last part.
“I can understand that,” he says while leaning back in his chair.
Chapter 7: I Won’t Back Down
Sunday, August 7th, 4:41 pm
The clock is inching closer to 7 pm and the beginning of practice, but you’re excited to discuss some more football specific matters.
“As for the other stuff, I would say, not entirely different from being yourself, don’t be afraid to be honest with people. One of the most important things someone in your position can do is manage up and speak truth to power. I don’t know what you did to convince Jeffrey to let you run the ball more last year after the Raiders game, but you guys were good at it, like really good at it.
Now of course I expect a more exciting passing game with AJ and all, but when Jeffrey starts asking you in your weekly meetings why you’re not throwing the ball more, like he did with Doug, as long as you’re winning, don’t be afraid to walk him back.”
Nick doesn’t respond here. That’s okay. You weren’t expecting him to.
“Coach your assistants hard, as hard as you coach the players. Look, I’m in the camp that JG didn’t have the best mix of players last season to do what he really wanted to do, but now with Haason, Bradberry, Jordan now, demand more creativity there.”
Chapter 8: Love Hurts
Sunday, August 7th, 4:45 pm
You take a deep breath before getting to your final point here.
“Most of all, and this won’t truly apply until February or March, but depending on how the season ends, don’t be afraid to tell Howie you need a new quarterback if you really do need one.
This is a talented roster. Our window of opportunity should be opening, but some of your best players — Lane, Kelce, BG, Fletch I suppose — are older and might not be around for those future runs.”
“Still not sold on Jalen, huh?” asks Nick.
You figured this was coming at some point, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon.
“Look, I’m not not sold on Jalen. It would certainly make things easier if he was the guy. I just…I gotta be honest with you. I’m very traumatized from that first Giants game last year. I can’t have a sequence like that going into halftime again,”
While the damage is long gone, you hold up your right hand and make a fist. Your knuckles transition to a shade of red, filled with rage.
“I nearly broke my hand repeatedly punching a chair behind me after that interception.
I. Cannot. Have. That Again. I…”
“I think you took that loss harder than I did,” Nick interrupts. “It was bad, sure, but we won four straight after.”
“We just can’t have that AGAIN,” you yell. “Look, he’s 23, actually I think today’s his birthday, 24. Happy Birthday, Jalen. He’s 24. He’s gonna make some mistakes. He doesn’t have to set the world on fire, but he can’t do that again.
Howie drafted him. He’s gonna want it to work, and hopefully it does, but just be honest with him in your assessment. I know you’re not gonna want to talk about this, but let’s just call it like it is: We tried to trade for both Russ and Deshaun in March, and it didn’t work, and the silver lining is we probably were able to build a better roster because of it, but my point is, if you can make a case that in 2023 you need a better quarterback for the team to take the next step, Howie will get you one.”
You’re ready to move on. Nick apparently isn’t.
“Is Jalen what’s stopping you from picking us to be a Super Bowl team?” he asks.
“Nick, come on. First off, I didn’t say we definitely weren’t a Super Bowl team. I said…”
“You didn’t say we were a Super Bowl team either.”
This is beginning to resemble high school debate team.
“Nick, please. We really shouldn’t do this.”
Chapter 9: Who Are You
Sunday, August 7th, 4:52 pm
Nick relents. You breathe a sigh of relief.
“Alright, fine,” Nick says. “We’ll talk about something else. What about Shane calling the plays? What do people think of that? What do you think of that?
An easier topic if there ever was one.
“I think that was a classic offseason storyline of people being bored and making too much of it,” you say in between cracking a smile.
Nick seems relieved as well.
“You know from us talking last year that I like Shane. I like Shane a lot. I think he’s a good coach,” you say. “These things are always more collaborative than they seem.”
“Exactly!” says Nick.
He’s not getting off that easy though.
“Now, do I think it would benefit you to stay somewhat closely involved? Yes. When we went through that big Eagles history lesson in the car last summer, the consistent theme was…?”
“How important it is to keep your assistant coaching staff strong,” says Nick.
“Very good,” you say. “If Shane gets hired to be a head coach in a couple years — and make no mistake about it, I think that’s quite possible — you don’t want to run into a situation where a lot of the ideas go with it.
I don’t want to go massively down this rabbit hole again, but that’s what killed your predecessor here. Just remember that whether it’s Shane, Brian Johnson, Kevin Patullo, it’s still YOUR offense. It’s good to delegate stuff, but just make sure YOU’RE owning it.”
Chapter 10: I Will Remember You
Sunday, August 7th, 4:56 pm
You glance at your phone and are in disbelief that it’s not 5 pm yet. It feels as if time has come to a halt. The sun permeates through Nick’s office windows.
He gets up and makes his way toward a mini refrigerator. “Water?” Nick asks. Before you can answer, he tosses it in your direction.
“Thanks,” you say, immediately unscrewing the cap and taking a large sip upon catching the bottle.
“That trip last summer really was nuts,” says Nick. “Have you talked to any of those guys since that day?”
You weren’t planning on this, but all of a sudden an idea pops into your head.
You take your phone out of your front, right pocket. The battery life is 52%. You’re gonna have to charge up before practice, but that can wait. You search for the FaceTime app. Having just reshuffled some of your home screen, this takes longer than you were expecting.
“What are we doing?” says Nick.
“Just be patient,” you say. “You’ll see in a second.”
You thumb through your contacts until you find what you’re looking for.
“CHIP!” you shout in excitement as your phone moves from the FaceTime connection screen to his face sitting in what appears to be a car.
“Now’s not really a good time, my guy,” says Chip.
You mute the phone for a second and turn back towards Nick. “As you saw last year, the call usually starts this way. He’ll come around.”
“Chip, what are you up to, man?! You look like you’re in a hurry.”
“I am in a hurry,” Chip says. “Gotta do a quick recruiting stop, and then I’m throwing out the first pitch at the Dodgers game so…”
“Whoa, Chip, congrats!”
This is where your baseball acumen naturally kicks in.
“Dodgers-Padres Sunday Night Baseball. That’s legit. Hey, he’s on my most important fantasy team, can you tell Manny Machado to…”
“I am telling you. I really, really, do not have time for this right now,” reiterates Chip. “What is it? What do you want?”
You mute again. Running client calls in a different life unfortunately made you good at quickly switching between mute and unmute.
“Give me another 20 seconds, and I’ll have him talking,” you say to Nick.
“I don’t know, man,” Nick says. “He really sounds like he’s got no interest in this.”
Luckily, you’ve got a couple aces up your sleeve.
“Nice season for the Bruins last year, Chip,” you say. “I’ll be honest though, I really thought you were going home to Oregon when they had their search. That would have been something. The prodigal son comes home. That would have gotten me out there for a game.”
Chip now has a facial expression that combines an uncomfortableness with a burning desire to say something that he knows he can’t say or it might get him in trouble.
“I appreciate it,” answers Chip. “I’m happy where I am. Be where your feet are.”
“Told ya,” you say back to Nick.
You messed up. Nick points at his phone. “I think you forgot to mute that time.”
“Who are you talking to? Who are you with?” asks Chip. “I know that office backdrop very well. You better not be talking to Howie.”
“Chip, relax,” you say. “It’s just me and Nick hanging out.”
You rotate your phone around the room to prove this.
Chapter 11: One More Go Round
Sunday, August 7th, 5:04 pm
“Hey, I won’t keep you long, but Dorian Thompson-Robinson back for one more ride. You guys gonna be undefeated going into Oregon? You winning the Pac-12?”
“Whoa!” shouts Nick. “I asked you for a prediction and you’re refusing, but now you go and ask him for one about his team. Come on m…”
You hold up a finger to momentarily silence Nick.
“I think we have a good team,” Chip says. “I think we play a lot of good teams as well. It’s like I said more than nine years ago when I first took the job there, at the end of the season, we’ll look up and see where we are in the standings, but I can’t think about that right now.”
You respond back, “Chip, you can be modest all you want. I get that, but hey, with the transition to the Big Ten and all, if you play at Penn State in 2024, I’ll come see you. Send you off before you head back to the NFL in a few years.”
You look up from the phone to see Nick pointing towards his wrist, indicating that this is beginning to run long.
“That’d be cool,” Chip says. “I’d like that. Listen though, I gotta…”
You try to get one more thought in.
“Now that she has a new job again, I would say you should come visit Marissa in Atlanta during your bye week, but I guess you’ll be prepping for the Oregon game. Hell, I’d think about going with you, but we got Dallas on Sunday Night. Actually now that I think about it, the Falcons play San Francisco, this is probably too many worlds colliding, forget it, but…”
Chip cuts off your rambling in a tone which suggests he means business.
“I truly have to go,” he says. “Pulling into Dodger Stadium. Always good to hear from you.”
“Likewise Chi..”
He hangs up before you can complete your thought.
Chapter 12: Dust in the Wind
Sunday, August 7th, 5:09 pm
Nick wasn’t wrong about getting short on time.
It’s now past 5 pm, and in less than two hours, the public will have its first look at the 2022 Philadelphia Eagles.
“I talked a lot about this last year, so I don’t want to be a broken record, but I wanted you to hear me talk to Chip so you could remember some of the pitfalls about his second season I told you about.”
“Oh yeah, I remember that well,” says Nick.
“Good,” you say. “It’s a reminder that success is fleeting, about how cutthroat this business is, and one minute you can think you’re Super Bowl bound, then a few years later, you’re back coaching in college.”
“See, there you go with the S word again. I just don’t understand why you had no problem asking Chip a question like that about winning a conference but you won’t entertain…”
“Nick, not now,” you say, putting your hand up. “What else ya want to talk about?”
Chapter 13: Another Park, Another Sunday
Sunday, August 7th, 5:15 pm
“Can you believe we’re only 35 days away?” Nick asks. “Five weeks from today, we’ll be in Detroit. You know I never did get your thoughts on the rest of the schedule. That first game is all we really talked about.”
“I think it’s a good schedule, Nick,” you say.
“Christmas Eve in Dallas is tough. You’ll be a damn hero if you win that game. No one expects you to win that game. That sorta feels like one of those just guaranteed L’s that you kinda pencil in, but other than that, outside of Aaron Rodgers, we don’t play any elite quarterback.
If we win in Detroit, The Linc will be rockin for the home opener. You know this from last year, but to a much larger extent with it being a Monday nighter and all.”
You weren’t expecting Nick to jump in here.
“Man, that Week 2 crowd for the Niners game last year was electric. I wish we could have taken that one. That one still hurts me a bit.”
“Again,” you say. “Be yourself. That game turned when we were up 3–0, had the ball on their 1-yard line and didn’t score. You tried to run some weird Philly Special spin off. That’s not you. Be true to yourself.
Chapter 14: Since You Been Gone
Sunday, August 7th, 5:20 pm
I really do think the schedule allows for us to get off to a good start, but the biggest piece of advice I would give is make sure the guys are not distracted by some of the storylines early on.”
You knew this was going to be a part of the conversation at some point, and yet, it still feels odd.
“In back-to-back weeks for some of the veterans on this team, there’s gonna be the reunion with Carson in DC and then Doug’s homecoming at The Linc the following week.
And look, you can be 3–0. I don’t expect you to be 3–0. I actually think that game against Washington could be tough. I’d be fine with 2–1, but that week going into the Jacksonville game, regardless of your record, there’s gonna be blogs, and radio stations and the like doing polls asking people who they’d rather the coach be. More people are gonna vote for Doug. He’s gonna get a massive standing ovation that afternoon.
FUCK that. Don’t listen to it. Don’t read the polls. We are NOT losing that game.
I’m NOT losing to Doug Pederson at home the day before my fucking birthday!”
You can feel your veins pulse and your heart race as you finish the sentence. Nick offers you another water.
“Preciate it,” you say, once again immediately unscrewing the cap and taking a large gulp.
“You’re pretty fired up about this one,” says Nick. “Didn’t know if I was gonna see that from someone who won’t pick us to go to the Super Bo…”
“Nick, stop it,” you say.
“Almost snuck that one past ya,” says Nick.
“Almost,” you respond.
There’s a three second pause that allows you to compose yourself. The quicker you can get the topic changed, the better, but Nick unfortunately seems to have other ideas.
“I don’t want to go through everything from last summer again, but…” Nick says.
“So let’s not do it,” you say back with a half-hearted smile.
“But you really want to beat him, huh?” Nick asks. “This is the most heated you’ve been about any part of the schedule. Dallas didn’t even get this treatment.”
You take another breath and close your eyes for a second in an attempt to center yourself.
“Look, if life stops spinning out of control by then, I’m gonna be at the game. I’ll take part in the pregame ovation, but here’s the thing, and a lot of people don’t want to hear this. I get killed on Twitter every time I say it, but I’ll say it because it’s true.
I think Doug let this operation down a lot more than people think. For a while, Howie and Carson were the main targets for a lot of the blame, but Doug is very culpable himself. I’m not even talking about the stuff I already told you about in terms of coaching staff, the team struggling to play up to expectations. Everyone knows all that.
But there was this narrative following the end of the 2020 season and during the time of Carson being traded to the Colts that Carson quit. And look, it’s not wrong, in the end he did, but bless my soul I watched every 2020 press conference on top of the games. If you’re telling me in November and December that Doug was dialed in, coaching his ass off, then I have some beachfront property in Kansas for you.
He checked the fuck out in the second half of the season. He quit too.”
You were not expecting to go down this road again, but now that you have, it’s somewhat therapeutic to have someone to talk to about it.
“I still can’t believe you told him to go fuck himself last summer,” Nick says.
A look of bewilderment comes across Nick’s face as he finishes the sentence.
“You should call him,” Nick adds.
It dawns on you that Nick never heard the second conversation last year after you and him split off inside The Linc.
“That’s not necessary,” you say.
“You told the coach who won you your first ever Super Bowl to go fuck himself on a FaceTime call while he was out fishing. You don’t want to apologize for that?”
Nick’s really pushing you here.
“Here’s the thing, Nick. I didn’t really tell him to go fuck himself.”
Nick’s look of shock has multiplied by a thousand.
“You absolutely told him to go fuck himself. I was sitting in the car right next to you. I heard the entire conversation.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t hear the second conversation.”
Nick follows up with “What second conversation?”
Everything’s about to make a lot more sense momentarily.
“So after you and I said goodbye to each other last summer, there was a few minutes before practice started. So I walked around the upper level of The Linc, got to the seats right where the Super Bowl banner hangs. I FaceTimed Doug again. It was always my plan, but I wanted to do it in private. I didn’t want anyone to see or hear.”
Nick listens attentively as if he’s hanging on every word.
“I didn’t want ‘Go fuck yourself’ to be the last thing I said to him for 6 years either. Now I didn’t have a plan for how I was gonna apologize or what I was gonna do, but I figured the right words would eventually come.
So I talk in circles for a few seconds, basically saying ‘About what I said before and how our call ended,’ and all of a sudden Doug cuts me off and says that he didn’t hear any of it. The reception out on the water was really bad. He asks me what I wanted to say to him.
And it was the perfect situation. So yeah, I told him to go fuck himself, but for all intents and purposes, I didn’t actually tell him to go fuck himself. It was the best of both worlds. I got it off my chest, but he never heard me.”
Nick’s facial expression showing utter dismay has transitioned to a slight smile.
“So what did you say? Like how’d you end it?”
“Well first off, I felt this massive weight off my shoulders.
I held up my phone in the direction of the rafters and I said ‘Banners fly forever, Doug. See you in 2027 for the 10-year reunion.’”
You wipe a small tear from your eye as you finish talking and go in for another sip of water.
“Fuck yeah, man” says Nick, extending his hand for a high five. “That’s deep. That’s what I’m talking about. So anything happen after that?”
“Nope,” you say, making a cut motion with your right hand. “Ended the call. Like I said, I got my moment of closure there without him having to actually hear the go fuck yourself part.
“I’m glad you got it,” adds Nick. “I’m sure it meant a lot to him hearing you say that.”
“Me too,” you add. “I’m glad I got it too.”
Chapter 15: Mixed Emotions
Sunday August 7th, 5:29 pm
You and Nick have now been talking for more than an hour. The first preview of the 2022 Philadelphia Eagles is only 90 minutes away. A faint ‘E-A-G-L-E-S’ chant can be heard in the background.
“You think we’ll have a good crowd tonight,” Nick asks while peering out his office window.
“Oh definitely,” you say. “Bunch of folks donning Eagles gear at the Phils game. It will be loud.”
Nick swivels back around to face you and begins fidgeting with a football on his desk. “So what do you think it will be like when Carson comes here in November?”
You were not fully prepared for this one. Maybe you should have been.
“I think…I think a lot depends on how the season has been going. We’ll have played eight games by that point. Now I never speak in absolutes here, but the game before that is in Houston. Weird stuff always happens on Thursday nights, but we should be heavy favorites there. So let’s say we win that game, and we’re 6–2 going into that Monday Night date with Washington.
People will be in a good mood. If that’s the case, I think the reception will be a bit more mild. If things have gone horribly off the rails and we’re say 3–5 or even 4–4, then I think there will be a lot of booing. People want to boo more when it’s the only thing left to do, when they don’t have anything else to look forward to.
I mean as for me, I wouldn’t plan to boo when he first takes the field or if he’s introduced as the starting quarterback. If he does something good during the game, I’ll boo like I would any opponent, but not in the big moment before the game or anything.”
Nick seems surprised by your response.
“Interesting,” he says. “And you think others will have a similar mindset?”
“Oh, make no mistake about it, there will most definitely be boos and loud ones,” you clarify.
“But I think the vitriol will be a bit overblown.
Twitter and certain radio shows will have you believing everyone hates Carson, but I think there’s a silent majority who recognize that we don’t win the Super Bowl without his contribution. They hate a lot of what transpired after, and no one — Carson included and especially — looked good by the end, but the unbelievable memories of 2017 live on.”
Nick’s about to speak again, but you jump in to add one more thought.
“I’ll say this too. I haven’t spoken to him in basically four years now. My gut says he wouldn’t come to a reunion in 2027, but let’s say hypothetically he’s retired by then and he does decide to come.
I think he’d get cheered. I say all this too with the self-awareness that — look man — I’m the king of holding grudges. I do it. I own it. It’s part of what’s made me successful in life and taught me to stand up for myself, but I really do think he’d get a positive reception then.
Time heals a lot of wounds.”
Chapter 16: Here I Go Again
Sunday August 7th, 5:36 pm
You can hear added foot traffic outside through the corridor as practice inches closer.
“So do you think we’re gonna actually be 6–2 going into the Washington game?” Nick asks. “THAT will have people dropping the S-word…”
“NICK!” you shout. The boom of your voice leads to a seemingly concerned knock on the office door.
“We’re good,” Nick shouts.
You haven’t answered his question yet.
In a scene resembling Field of Dreams where way Ray Kinsella refuses to leave Terrence Mann’s Boston apartment, you turn towards Nick and ask rhetorically, “I”m not gonna get you off this topic, am I?”
Sensing that you’re getting annoyed, Nick attempts a slightly different approach.
“Hey man, you know I’m just messing, right? I’m just interested in your opinion and all. I mean you picked the winner last year in the Rams. Shit, if the Bills handle those 13 seconds better, I mean no disrespect to the Bengals, but you probably have the exact matchup.”
You always appreciate the compliment, but it’s actually having a reverse effect here.
“Nick, that’s exactly it,” you say. “That’s exactly it.”
“What’s it?” Nick asks in a confused manner.
“THAT. That’s it,” you repeat.
Nick counters by repeating himself as well. “What’s it?”
“You got some time?” you ask. “No pre-practice press conference or anything?”
Nick flashes a thumbs up and makes a circular motion with his hand, an invitation for you to talk.
You ask for and receive another water. This may take some time and energy.
“Nick, you don’t actually want me to do and say what you’re asking me to do and say. I’m actually doing you a favor by largely avoiding this topic for now.
You said it yourself. I’m pretty good at predicting stuff. I ain’t perfect, but I’m pretty good. I don’t say this to inflate my own ego. I say this to make a point. If I come out right now and declare us Super Bowl contenders, and you gotta understand this, if I come out and do that, then I cannot walk it back. From this point forward, we would be considered legitimate Super Bowl contenders, and anything short of playing in Glendale means the season is a failure.
I put that on Doug in 2018 and especially in 2019. I picked us to win it all in 2019. That’s the first time I ever did that since I’ve been doing that, and we went 9–7 and lost on Wildcard Weekend.
I didn’t fully do it with Chip, but I kinda, sorta put it on him in the early portion of Year 2.
I don’t want to put that on you so early in your tenure. I’ve learned from my past mistakes. Now, the question is has your team learned from theirs?
This franchise for really the past almost two decades, when the bar gets raised, we’ve struggled to meet it. We’ve had some years where we came out of nowhere, where we overachieved. 2017 was magical, but whenever the sizzle has been there going into a season, I’m talking 2011, 2012, 2015, 2018, 2019, the steak has always come out burnt and dry. I’m a medium guy. There’s nothing worse than a well-done steak. I mean talk about ruining a beautiful food item. It ain’t like pizza where even if it’s bad, it’s good. It’s gotta be cooked right.”
You sense you’re getting a little off topic and try to recalibrate.
“The last time we were expected to be REALLY good and actually were REALLY good was the 2004 team that made it to the Super Bowl under Andy. Other than that, it’s either been play well as underdogs or stumble as favorites.
Your veteran players will tell you this too. Guys like BG, Kelce, Lane, Fletch. You could probably ask Jake and Rick too, and I guess DB, but the last one really isn’t necessary, but what I mean is that they know the team hasn’t played its best when the bar has been raised. Now the million dollar question or maybe I should say questions plural is, one can they do something about it, and two can YOU help them do something about it?
You want a mini prediction or some form of expectations? I’ll say this. Barring some catastrophic injury in camp, we should win the division. The Cowboys are good, but they ain’t winning it. Everyone knows no one wins the NFC East back-to-back. Last team to do it was us in 2004. The Giants, I mean LOL, I don’t have to tell you that they ain’t winning it. Washington’s roster is actually halfway decent. I wouldn’t totally write them off, but we should be better.
When I look at the NFC right now, I don’t think the conference is that good as a whole, but there’s the big three of the Rams, Bucs, and Packers. Now, they all have flaws. They’re older rosters, especially the Rams and the Bucs. I would put us a solid fourth. I think we’re the next best team in the conference. There’s some distance between us and whoever’s fifth, probably Dallas honestly, but there’s an even bigger gap between whoever’s third and us right now.
So the expectation should be double digit wins, take the division crown, win that first playoff game at home — oh man, I love home playoff games, there’s nothing like it. See what happens in the divisional round likely on the road. Maybe we get lucky with a good matchup.
The baseline expectation should be to reach that divisional round, and I don’t think it’s entirely unfair to think we should be in the NFC Championship Game, but I’m not gonna put that on you. Let’s start a little smaller.”
Nick continues to listen intently as you pause for another sip of water.
“It’s a good roster. I do really like it, but we can poke some holes if we want to. On the defensive side, are we gonna be able to get to the quarterback enough? Adding Haason and having BG back should help, but is Sweaty gonna take another step forward? Is Fletch taking care of himself and gonna be able to set a good example for Jordan and Milt? If we can’t get to the quarterback, we can’t do anything. You and I both know that. The linebackers are better, but I think we can both say there’s question marks there, and then especially at safety. I actually think we’re gonna miss Rodney a lot.
Then we transition over to offense, and I think there’s less question marks here but bigger ones if that makes sense. I don’t worry about whoever the right guard is. I know Stout will have Driscoll or Isaac ready to go, and personally I think it should be Driscoll, but that second tight end spot. You ran some 12 personnel in the second Washington game last year that clinched us the playoff spot. Is Jack Stoll ready to take that on full time behind Dallas? Is Grant gonna be prepared as a rookie? I do like Grant by the way.
And then Jalen. If we make a deep playoff run, Jalen will likely be a big reason why, but he’s also the biggest liability to us doing so right now. I don’t say that as a pointed criticism either. I just say it as an observation, that he hasn’t shown me yet that he could beat a Tom Brady literally or a Matthew Stafford or Aaron Rodgers figuratively on the road in January.
You brought up the Chiefs-Bills playoff game last year. You go back and watch our game against the Bucs and compare it to that classic, and they’re playing a totally different sport. By the way, I made an awesome meme coming off that game, check this shit out.
I’m not saying Jalen can’t get better. He works his ass off. He’s smart. He really showed me something by winning that second Washington game last year. Stats didn’t pop off the page, but that was a game where you gotta just figure it the fuck out, and he did.
I just worry that the ceiling isn’t as high as some think. He’s had world class coaching since he was 18 years old, so if he’s still struggling with reading defenses and using the middle of the field, I just don’t know when or how much that’s gonna change.
I say all of this with the qualifier that I think it’s gonna be a really fun season. I think we’re gonna be a very good team, but to be a Super Bowl team, you and I both know that it takes an insane mix of talent, focus, injury luck, and more.
We’ll get there, and when you win one in a couple years, maybe I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself a few years after that, but you’re asking me to put that on you this year.
We’ll see how the season is going, see how Jalen looks in the first Dallas game, against the Packers in late November. Those will be two huge chances to show he can beat quality opponents and good quarterbacks. But right now. I cannot put that on you right now in early August.
“CAN’T DO IT!,” you yell, pulling out your best Mike Singletary voice impression.
Chapter 17: We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together
Sunday, August 7th, 5:55 pm
You thought you had emptied all of your thoughts but realized you forgot to say one incredibly important thing.
“One more comment. This one is very serious. JAGlen cannot be on this team come roster cuts time. Take my guy Greg Ward, take Hightower, take Devon Allen, Britain Covey, Deon Cain. I cannot watch him be targeted with a pass again. I cannot watch him misjudge a kick or return a punt again. No more. Tell Howie no more.
For as long as he’s here, he’s a symbolic reminder of just how disastrous 2020 was. You weren’t a part of that past, but it doesn’t need to be your problem in the future either. You know the guys better this year. I’m not gonna do a rundown of the entire roster like last summer. We don’t need to do that, but I had to share that with you.”
Chapter 18: Rise Up
Sunday August 7th, 5:58 pm
You don’t say anything for more than a few seconds. Nick takes this as his cue to speak again.
“You get all your thoughts out? I don’t have any more water in my office right now, so you better make that bottle last.”
“I think so,” you answer.
“That was honestly impressive,” says Nick. “You covered some stuff that my staff and I haven’t even touched on yet. How do you feel? How you doin?”
“I feel okay,” you say. “It was good to share all of it. You know I haven’t really been on Twitter much this summer to truly take the pulse of things. I’ve thought about stuff a lot to myself, but this is my first time talking Eagles with anyone in a couple months, so it was nice. Yeah, I appreciate you just kinda letting me go with it. It was nice.”
“Yeah, I mean like how are you doing overall?” Nick asks. “I know you’ve had a pretty rough summer personally and all.”
“I’m alive,” you say. “I’m surviving. I have good moments and bad moments. I think one thing I had to come to grips with a little bit was to realize that it’s okay to ask people for help or take them up on it if they offer. I’ve never been good at that.
And hey, I’ve made some major enemies in my life who I know took enjoyment in this if they saw or heard this news, and that’s okay, it is what it is.
I think what’s helped me most of all is to get through something like this, you gotta have a little Fuck You Energy, and there’s not a lot of people who are better at using revenge as a motivator than me.
I didn’t grow up a winner. Yeah, I was smart. I got good grades and was successful at certain things, but to have what I refer to as ‘skills to win’ in life, that’s a totally different ball game. This is going deep into my past here, but I decided some time probably around my junior year of college, I decided ‘I ain’t a pussy no more.’
And I spent the past decade studying people who I thought had those skills to win that I wanted to have and tried to get them through osmosis. So that prepared me to deal with this type of adversity.
Hell hath no fury like a pissed off and motivated Dre…”
Nick interrupts you. You were on a roll and weren’t expecting that, but it turns out okay.
“Good for you, man,” says Nick, extending his right hand for a fist bump. “That’s good shit.”
Your right fist connects with his before starting up again. You had more to say.
“Everyone’s gotta see the world in their own way, in a way that works for them, and you don’t have to see the world in the same way that I do, but if we’re gonna get along, you better respect my viewpoint even if you don’t agree with it, and I’ll try to respect yours in return.
It’s kinda analogous to what I was saying last summer. If you try to coach exactly like Frank does, that’s not gonna work for you.
Yeah, I’ve made my share of enemies in this world, but I’ve been unapologetically me, and I’ve also formed some pretty close relationships.
You can’t be fake. People see right through it, and that’s what bothered me so much about Joe Judge when I talked to you last summer. Your brand can’t be tough guy, hardass, and then all of a sudden when someone else won’t help you make the playoffs, you turn into a whiny little bitch.
It just don’t work that way.”
Nick lets out a long laugh.
“I was waiting until you were gonna bring him up. Surprised it took almost two hours,” Nick says while glancing down at his phone.
“Just the softest NFL coach of all-time paired with the softest fanbase in sports. I know you can relate to this with the Peter from Maple Shade encounter and all. Like you said with him, the Yankees are cool and all but just the softest NFL fanbase.
I gotta say though, he carried my Twitter brand for basically a calendar year. Now all I have is Gerrit Cole in the Wildcard Game, but I’m not gonna make you watch a 7-minute video.”
“What about ‘your friend Kyle?’” Nick asks. “You were pretty into that last summer.”
You’re very impressed with the memory recall given how much you talked about last summer.
“Oh yeah,” you say, letting out a laugh. “It’s not enough to single-handedly carry a Twitter brand, but that will never go away.
“That really goes back to that Fuck You Energy that I was talking about.
You know about a month after you and I talked last year, he sent me a Venmo request?!”
“Wait what!?!” says Nick. “I gotta know about this.”
You were not expecting to go here but have the details memorized down to a tee.
“It’s the Friday of Labor Day Weekend. I had actually just gotten over a bad cold the week prior. The Covid test was negative, though I’m still skeptical, anyway, yeah, I was just chillin, probably had a baseball game on or something, and all of a sudden, I pick up my phone, and this request comes in.
I have no idea what prompted it. I assume some massive group brainstorming session because there’s no way he has the intellect or creativity to think of that on his own, but yeah, that happened.
But yeah, I sat on it for about 23 hours or so, and then I fired back, and we went back-and-forth a couple of times. You’re gonna think these are Photoshopped, but I swear on my life that they are 100% real.
The Great Venmo War of Labor Day Weekend 2021 baby! Never forget!”
You hand Nick your phone and have him thumb through the screenshots sequentially.
“And remind me again how this got started,” says Nick. “Like I know you talked about it, but show me the origin point again.”
You take your phone back and navigate to the section that stores the January 2018 screenshot that you keep on file before handing it back for Nick to see again.
“From that point forward, it was on. If you’re gonna be stupid, you better be tough. There is no one, no one in the goddamn universe, who took a bigger L than he did during January and February 2018. No one.”
Nick continues to look at the screenshot in disbelief before sliding the phone back to you.
“Fucking loser,” Nick says.
Chapter 19: Mama, I’m Coming Home
August 7th, 6:06 pm ET
Less than an hour away. You can’t quite make out the song, but music is playing on the concourse of The Linc as more fans file into the stadium.
You’re somewhat surprised Nick hasn’t asked to end the conversation yet but figure it will be coming soon.
“Hey, let me ask you something else,” says Nick.
Evidently, you’re gonna go at least a little longer.
“Earlier, you really waxed poetic about a home playoff game. All of the ones I was in with the Colts and Chargers as an assistant we were on the road. There was one in 2010 when I was in Kansas City, but I was a pretty low level assistant and we got beat real bad.
What’s it like?”
You can feel tears begin to fill in the back of your eyes and slowly make their way forward.
“I mean it when I say there is nothing like it. I’ll try to explain it by coming at it from a comparison point of view. I don’t think you saw this town fully Eagle’d up last year to the extent that it can get Eagle’d up.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved making the playoffs. That Sunday when we beat Washington. I hit some insane 6-team parlay then topped it off with winning a fantasy championship when Aaron Rodgers, Davante Adams, and Allen Lazard destroyed the Vikings, which fully sealed our spot.
That week leading up to Tampa was fine. I watched the video of Hugh Douglas jacking Shaun King’s ass up probably 50 times. Everyone posted the image of BG strip sacking Tom Brady.
I convinced myself we were gonna win. Some others did too. The Bucs were banged up, limped into the dance, yada yada, but I think at the end of the day, we kinda knew in our heads that they were better.
Let’s just be honest in retrospect. We were going on the road to the defending Super Bowl Champions, facing the GOAT. People just aren’t gonna get THAT Eagle’d up in that scenario.
I know Eagle’d Up is a made up phrase, but just roll with it.”
Nick nods, and you continue.
“The first weekend of the playoffs is kinda crazy with the time slots now, but let’s keep it simple and say we play the Sunday 4:30 game.”
You point out the window before continuing.
“There will be people out here tailgating at 8 am. It is the only thing that matters in the city that day. The entire week leading up is just a series of pep rallies and anticipation. The night before the whole city gets lit up in green — I’m talking buildings, Schuylkill River, everything. Again, they did it a little bit last year, but it’s just SO much different when the game’s at your house.
I mean the last one here was back in January 2020 before the world went to shit, and we lost. It was a weird day with Carson getting hurt and all, but in the hour leading up to kickoff and right after, this place is turned up to another level.
I’m actually surprised I’m talking so much about this because I tried to block part of what happened after out, but the Seahawks got the ball first. Russell Wilson underthrew a pass on third and short, and as that football hit the ground, you would have thought 67,000 people all won the lottery. The noise was fucking deafening, and again, this is all from a simple failed third down.
Imagine the reaction following a turnover or say an A.J. Brown 20-yard touchdown reception.”
Chapter 20: Need You Now
Sunday, August 7th, 6:11 pm ET
“You’re making this sound like some otherworldly experience,” says Nick while grabbing a pair of sunglasses, a whistle, and a laminated sheet with some notes on it.
“It sort of is,” you say. “I think it’s one of the most fun days of being a fan. Of course everyone wants to win the Super Bowl, but unless the NFL really embraces cold weather, there ain’t never gon’ be no Super Bowl played at The Linc, so unless you go as a fan, you’re not there.
A home playoff game. We’re in it. We’re there. We’re all there.”
You take a sip of what remains from your water as Nick also reaches for a hat to put on.
If this isn’t a clear sign that your conversation is coming to an end, then you’re not sure what is, so you decide to move to the final thing you wanted to talk about.
“The bottom line Nick — beyond home playoff games and all the beauty there — is that we need you. We need you, Nick.
It’s always been you. It’s always been the Eagles. When things get tough — either for us personally or for this town from a sports team standpoint — we turn our lonely eyes to you.
The Flyers stink and unfortunately really haven’t been relevant for a decade now. The Sixers are soft as fuck and have a ceiling of the second round. The day the schedule came out, that night the Sixers lost Game 6 to the Heat. Were people upset? A lot of folks were probably disappointed, but aside from a small corner of Twitter who worships the basketball team for reasons unbeknownst to me, the prevailing scenario was ‘We’re onto Detroit.’
You asked me if the Phillies won earlier. Does it matter? Sure, it kinda does. We want the Phillies to win because we like to watch Kyle Schwarber hit tanks — he’s fucking awesome, and Bryce Harper deserves to come back to a team in a playoff race.
But come 35 days from now, how many people who choose to go to the Phillies game that day are actually gonna be paying attention to the Phillies game? As soon as it hits 1 pm, everyone is gonna be huddled around TVs, streaming us on their phone. E-A-G-L-E-S chants ringing throughout Citizens Bank Park when Dallas Goedert scores the first touchdown a few minutes later to put us up 6–0. I just picked him totally at random by the way and because my wife likes him. It could be anyone.”
“I get it,” Nick says.
You force a smile and continue. “I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I’ll just emphasize again, we all turn our eyes to you. We don’t need you to win the Super Bowl this year, but we do need you to deliver us a fun season, to take us into late January.”
“We’ll do it,” says Nick with a subtle fist pump. “We got you.”
“I believe you, Nick,” you say. “I know you do.”
“Hey,” Nick says, while briefly but firmly placing his right hand on your left shoulder. Let’s not go a year in between talking again.”
You wish you could firmly commit to what you’re about to say right now but decide to roll with it anyway.
“I’ll hopefully be out in Chicago in December. Don’t want to bother you too much during the season. I know your schedule is crazy, but let’s catch up that Saturday. I love Chicago. We’ll grab some deep dish or something, and don’t tell me you don’t like deep dish. None of that New York pizza snob shit. Deep dish is fucking great.”
Chapter 21: Sorry
Sunday, August 7th, 6:21 pm ET
There’s added noise in the hallway outside of Nick’s office now, presumably with players and coaches shuffling by. There’s also another knock at the door.
“Send him in, Big Dom!” yells Nick.
“You want me to go?” you ask while pointing to the door.
“Absolutely not,” says Nick with a suspicious smile on his face.
You’re now extremely confused and to some extent concerned.
You’re pretty certain that your life isn’t in danger, but after the past few years, one can never be too sure. If it actually is, you don’t have much to defend yourself other than a phone, wallet, keys, and a few empty water bottles, which probably won’t do much.
You go to bite your nails — It’s been a habit for eternity — while you wait for the door to open.
Nick now has a wide grin on his face that makes you even more skeptical.
You realize why as the door opens and in walks a 6-foot man also with a smirk on his face. The three of you are separated by less than 10 feet, but no one says anything so you take it upon yourself to break the ice.
“Darius,” you say with a half head nod.
Nick clears his throat before saying “He goes by Slay.”
“My bad,” you say with another half nod.
“Do you know why I asked Slay to come in here?” Nick asks you.
You’ve figured out exactly what’s going on but don’t want to actually acknowledge it.
“I do not,” you say, playing dumb.
“Slay, last summer when I was new, I asked this guy to run down the roster for me, basically tell me his quick thoughts on every player. Some of it was helpful. Most of his responses were 10 words or less — short, sweet, and to the point. Then we got to you and…”
“Yeah, I’m just gonna stop Nick right there,” you say jumping in. “I’m sorry for what I…”
“Whoa! Oh hell no,” shouts Nick trying to contain more laughter. “You’re not getting off that easy. I want you to read aloud exactly what you said.”
The look on your face as you turn back towards Nick expresses a mix of shock and embarrassment, but you gotta hand it to him. He got you here. To this point, you’ve avoided eye contact with the player but can sense that he’s enjoying this.
“I know you have notes saved somewhere on this,” says Nick. “We’ll wait. Still 35 minutes before practice. We got time.”
You open your phone, figuring there’s no way you’re getting out of this.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Nick says. “Read it verbatim.”
You take a long breath and can feel your cheeks turning a shade of red as you begin.
“I hate that soft ass mother fucker. Look, he’s the best cornerback you got right now, but nothing he does impresses me. He’s gonna play pretty well against average receivers and get lit up by guys like Calvin Ridley, Tyreek Hill, Terry McLaurin, Amari Cooper, and a lot of those elite receivers. My issue with him is he’s not an Eagle. Guys like BG, Kelce, Fletch, Lane, they know what it’s like to win here. They also know what it’s like to go through adversity. They were here for 4–12 in 2012, here for the end of Chip, but they know how to win. Slay, you take a guy out of Detroit, who was part of a losing culture there, who’s never won anything.
You could do this exercise with 100 people, and I’d probably give the most negative report, but he might be my most disliked Eagle since L.J. Smith at the end of 2008, and the thing is, he doesn’t really deserve that distinction, but that’s where I’m at.”
Both of them already burst out laughing long before you finished. You’re not sure if they’re laughing with you or at you. Maybe both.
“I apologize, Darius,” you say.
“Ahem,” says Nick. “He goes by Slay.”
“My fault,” you say. “Habit. I refer to a lot of the guys on the team by their first name, but I respect it. I mean I’m gonna have a rule at my wedding that people have to refer to me as ‘King,’ so I get it.
You had a very impressive season, Slay.
Honestly, you were probably the reason we won the Panthers game. I took what I said last year too far. I was angry coming off 2020, but you didn’t deserve that level of scorn.”
“It’s cool, man,” says Slay, letting out another laugh while extending his hand.
You swing your hand forward to connect with his. “2020 made us all do weird things,” adds Slay.
“You’re telling me,” you say. “I told your former coach to go fuck himself.”
“Ohhh, Matt Patricia?” asks Slay. “Good for you. That guy sucks.”
“No,” you say. “Dou…err forget it. It’s not really important.”
You’re not looking to go down that road again.
“The important thing is that you had a really good season. You were a shutdown corner against nearly everyone, and from what I can tell, a really good presence in the locker room. We’re gonna need more of that with Rodney gone, so nice job. Glad to have you here.”
“Hey man, preciate it,” says Slay, going in for a bro hug.
As the two of you complete the hug, Nick speaks for the first time in a few minutes. You nearly forgot another person was there.
“Thank you, Slay. You can finish getting ready for practice.”
Slay makes his way towards the door and then whips his head back in your direction.
“Hey man, what’s your name? What’s your deal? Who are you?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a full nod.
“Alright,” says Slay. “Well, I just wanted to say, you seem like a smart dude, but if you ever pursue a job in football, maybe avoid one that involves scouting cornerbacks.”
“You got it,” you say, letting out a smile.
You can hear Slay’s continued laughter down the hallway as you turn back towards Nick.
“Had to humble you a little bit,” says Nick, with another wink. “Keep you on your toes. I talked so much about you predicting things so well, I had to remind you that you’re not always right.”
“That was well done,” you say. “Run the offense with that kind of precision, and we’re cooking.”
Chapter 22: The Boys Are Back In Town
Sunday, August 7th, 6:36 pm
The noise has gone up another few decibel levels. Practice is less than 30 minutes away.
This is later than you planned. You’ll have to hurry once you leave Nick’s office. You still need to charge your phone, but you’ll figure it out. It was worth it.
You turn towards Nick to see if he has anything left to say, assuming he’ll want you to take off.
“Dude, we covered a lot,” said Nick. “I can’t believe we did all that in two hours. You got anything else super quick?”
“We really did,” you say. “I’d invite you to my wedding next August, but I figure you guys will be in final preseason game mode.”
You round up your stuff and begin to rise from your chair.
“What you up to now?” asks Nick. “You know where you’re going?”
It suddenly dawns on you that you have never been in this part of the stadium before and were escorted here. You may not in fact know where you’re going.
“Yeah, I’ll figure it out,” you say. “Gotta stop and see my buddy Doc real quick. Then head to the seats with my dude Tyler and some friends.”
As you make your way towards the door, Nick walks over to give you a hug.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he says.
“I won’t,” you say. “I’ll be here.”
“See you for the home opener?” Nick asks.
“I hope,” you say.
“Jacksonville?”
“I really hope,” you say.
“Monday Night against Washington?”
“Would like to,” you say.
“Chicago?”
“We already covered that! Would love to.”
“Arizona the second weekend of Feb…”
“Nick!”
He laughs as you embrace for one more hug.
“I told you last year,” you said. “I told you last year you’re the right man for the job. Lead us.”
“Yessir,” says Nick.
You let out a deep breath and make your way towards the door before turning back.
“Hey, one more thing,” you say. “If BG’s still on the team next year, ima need him to have the day off on August 26th. He’s got a standing invite to my wedding that he hasn’t said no to. 14-year vet, you can give him the day off”
With a combined chuckle and smile, Nick leaves you with “Get the hell out of my office.”
You oblige, walking past a series of conference rooms and following the noise level until you reach the lower bowl of The Linc. It will be nice to sit in the 100 level tonight and have a closer eye on what’s going on.
The concourse is abuzz as the minutes tick closer. Were it not for the temperature pushing 90 and blazing sun, it could easily be mistaken for a regular season game.
You exchange a series of random high fives and accompanying “Go Birds” while looking for Doc.
A few feet away stands a sizable crowd gathered around a local news crew taking some footage. The group starts up an E-A-G-L-E-S chant. It’s the loudest one of the night by far — the best one you’ve heard since walking out of The Linc after beating the Saints last November.
You walk over and join in.
Following the yelling of ‘EAGLES’ one individual towards the front of the group, leans into the camera and yells “SUUUUUUUUPERRRRRRRRRRRRR BOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWL”
It’s met with wild cheers from everyone within earshot as the group disperses.
“Maybe,” you say to yourself with a smile.
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