Eagles victory brings joy to generations
Eagles’ Super Bowl victory brings joy to generations of fans, memories of fans no longer with us
Philadelphians have a chip on their shoulders. It started with our forefathers, who got kicked out of their homeland and started this great country in Philadelphia. We have always been underdogs, and the Philadelphia Eagles have embraced that label. When the Superbowl ended Sunday night, I thought of my Eagles family.
My dad was a traveling salesman who was not home much. We spent our rare time together watching sports. He never got over the collapse of the 1964 Phillies, and was convinced that all sports were rigged. He gave me a book on sports fixing and wrote in the margin, “Read and learn.” Still, I was young and full of hope. So he decided to teach me a lesson.
For Christmas in 1967, my father gave me season tickets to the Eagles. I was thrilled; now I could spend more time with him. Then I realized these were tickets for one person. Each Sunday, a neighbor would drive me to Franklin Field, where I’d sit by myself. The 1968 season was an eye-opener for a 12-year-old. The Eagles’ financially strapped owner, Jerry Wolman, had signed their coach, Joe Kuharich, to a 15-year contract. The fans were bitter. A plane flew over the stadium towing a banner reading, “Joe must go.”
If the Eagles finished last that year, they would get the first draft pick which would be O.J. Simpson. The Eagles lost their first 11 games, and it looked as if O.J. would be wearing green. Instead the team won their next two games and lost their chance for the first pick. So the crowd was in ugly mood for their last game. Dec. 15, 1968 was a defining date in Philadelphia sports history. It was the day Philadelphia booed Santa. He came out at halftime and frankly looked ratty. Yes, I joined in. When I told my dad later, he nodded his head knowingly. I had learned.
The team moved on from Franklin Field, to Veterans Stadium and then Lincoln Financial Field, but its fortunes stayed near the same location. I was a season ticket holder at the Vet but not the Linc. A favorite memory of the Linc was when my dear friend Dave Pless invited me to a game with him. Dave bled green and was such a funny, delightful guy that every interaction with him ended too soon. Dave and his buddies, Lou Christos and Davey Sanders, all were season ticket holders, and had been since 1988. They sat at the very top of Linc – the gap you see when you drive by on I-95. I said, “It’s scary here!”
“You should have been here before they put up the wind barrier. Remember Sweet Lou!” Then the whole section started talking about how Lou (short in stature) got swept up by the winds of a low-flying helicopter and as he lifted up they had to grab his legs to keep him from flying away. Lou still looked a little rattled (he didn’t jump up when we scored). Dave laughed when he told this story and said: “Fly Eagles Fly”.
Dave, like my dad, died suddenly in his 50s. When the Eagles won their NFC championship game this year against the Vikings, Davey and Sweet Lou were there with Dave’s teenage son Will, arms around each other’s shoulders, laughing but also shedding tears for the guy who always left us wanting more.
I grew up arguing about the Eagles with my best friend Steve Saffren. Unlike me, Steve was a positive person. He trusted the process before there was one. I’d call him after the Birds lost and yell at him as if it was his fault. Steve got cancer a few years ago and I thought, “Finally he’ll get negative.” But he didn’t; it was so annoying. When I visited him it wasn’t anything emotionally instructive like, “Tuesdays with Morrie.” Instead, we’d argue sports. It’s easier to call someone an idiot than to tell them you love them. Steve died before this season started, which is a shame because he would have loved the humility and character of this Eagles squad.
When the Eagles won the Superbowl, my son Brian and I went into West Chester to soak in the scene. Kids were going nuts, but in a good way. The police did a remarkable job keeping order. As we walked down High Street, everybody was in their 20s. Several of them came up to me and said, to my son’s great delight, “They did this for you, old timer.”
Not just for me. They did it for my father, for Dave, Steve, and thousands more whose love of our team bonds us all together for eternity.