Having just completed watching the Eagles vs. Giants, I, as a Philadelphia sports fan for life, have been treated to this year's ampule of foreshadowing that the Eagles seem to show me every year. Eagles 24-7 going into the third quarter, then losing 30-24 in overtime. At the Linc. In their home opener.
Since it is now barely minutes since the game is over, I am feeling a particular roughness in my throat from the copious tobacco smoke I inhaled over the past 2 hours and the screaming at the top of my already taxed lungs at every bung-scratching chuckleheaded fuck-up that the last two quarters of football have treated me to.
I have a feeling that I will have to go to the doctor's office tomorrow and ask him to give me a prescription for blood pressure medication. It may seem like an odd request since I'll have to ask him for medication I only have to take one day a week, but he's an Eagles fan too, so I think he'll understand.
You know what the hardest thing about being a Philadelphia sports fan really is? It isn't the losses. Every team loses, even the best ones lose once in a while. The problem is how they lose. As a Philly sports fan, I am often treated to those little 'fun facts' that indicate that their losing potential is far beyond that of every team in the league.
Don't know what I'm talking about? Well, you're lucky, maybe your team just loses and goes home. Ours makes a statement.
Case in point: Today, in the home opener debacle, the fun fact was that the last time the Giants were able to come back to tie trailing 17 in the fourth quarter was against the Redskins in 1970. Yes. 19 fucking 70. 36 years. I am not quite that OLD yet. Which means, quite literally, that I have gone my ENTIRE LIFE without having seen such an utterly amazing display of instant suckitude and rampant ineptoidism. So nice of them to treat me to what I've been missing all these years. Hey, Andy, Donny, Jevon, Brian W, Brian D, and the rest of the gang. Thanks a pantload.