A Fan's Notes

Meditations and Ruminations from a Philly Phanatic

By Aaron Cutler

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The Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb in the throes of being sacked

On a Sunday night this past February I was at a Super Bowl party in Grad Center A. For many people the Super Bowl is just another excuse to drink beer and devour endless bowls of tortilla chips. Yet for me that night, the party was but a side dish—a pleasant haze around the main event. The Super Bowl itself was the center of my attention because my team, the Philadelphia Eagles, was playing in the big game.

The contest came down to the last three minutes. The Eagles had the Patriots on their toes, but then they blew it, and I remember walking around outside afterwards in somewhat of a daze. I knew that a chance at the ring doesn't come up that often, and I was worried that we might not get the chance again anytime soon. We had lost it, and I needed to be by myself.

I sat down on a sidewalk. "It's OK," I said, "I'm from Philadelphia."

When it comes to the four major sports leagues, I live in an accursed city. "Accursed" may be strong terminology, but sport is a realm where only the strongest survive and hyperbole is the lifeblood of its language. How else but "accursed" could one aptly characterize a major-market venue that hasn't had a championship parade down Broad Street in the last twenty-three years?

When I say "major-market venue," what I mean is that Philadelphia acts as a hub of commerce, media and business activity within modern America. By population alone my proud city is ranked among the top five in the nation, yet the home of soft pretzels, the Constitution and the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air boasts little of the athletic glory of its rival metropolitan areas.

People talk all the time about the sorry state of Chicago baseball, but that overlooks the superlative grace of Jordan and Pippen on the Bulls' team of the '90s. The same thing goes for Hakeem Olajuwon and the Houston Rockets. Phoenix captured a World Series in 2001 when the Diamondbacks toppled the Yankee dynasty. And as for New York and Los Angeles.Don't get me started.

But none of these possibilities, alas, have arisen in Philadelphia, where we come ever-so-close but still remain much too far. Philadelphia is one of only four cities to boast four major teams, but only in theory does this fact seem to increase our odds of producing a winner. The last group to seize gold for us was the '83 76ers, composed of glittering luminaries such as Dr. J, Moses Malone, Maurice Cheeks and Andrew Toney. To this day these guys are hailed as gods in the city, even as Cheeks prepares to coach what may be yet another dismal Sixers squad. Before them, it was the back-to-back titles won by the Flyers, or the "Broad Street Bullies" (who inspired the movie Slap Shot), in the mid-'70s. And there hasn't been anybody since.

For The Birds

Occasionally, however, a team comes close to glory, and last year the Eagles did. A combination of elements made their run particularly exciting. For starters, the team was clearly the best squad in the NFC, propelled by a dynamic offense and a punishing defense—good enough, even, to steam-roll through the playoffs without star wide-receiver Terrell Owens, who was sidelined in a cast. In addition, the team had fallen just short of the Super Bowl in the three years prior, so for a city of fans the trip to national television was a culmination of years of deep effort. Lastly - and perhaps most importantly—it was the Eagles—not the Phillies or the Flyers or the 76ers—on the verge of triumph. This was crucial because Philadelphia bleeds green; we value our other sports, of course, but at heart we are a die-hard football town, in the same way that Boston is a baseball town and Los Angeles a basketball one. This is why it was such a thrill to see the Eagles get there, and such a disappointment to watch them lose.

The Eagles subsequently had an interesting off-season. To recap:

Owens, quite possibly the league's premier head-case, went on record as saying that quarterback Donovan McNabb choked during the Big Game. Controversy arose over whether McNabb had gotten sick. Owens and McNabb stopped speaking. Owens demanded a bigger contract and refused to go to training camp. Offensive starters Todd Pinkston and Correll Buckhalter went down with season-ending injuries. Versatile running back Brian Westbrook cut off contract talks with the team. Owens and coach Andy Reid stopped speaking. Defensive star Corey Simon was offered the franchise tag and then cut from the squad. Defensive stalwart Jerome McDougle was injured in a drive-by shooting. And did I mention Terrell Owens?

I had such recent memories running through my head before the Eagles' season opener against Atlanta. The game was shown on Monday Night Football, a program on which the Eagles have been unstoppable over the past few years, and the contest was against a team that the Gang in Green had demolished in the NFC Championship Game only a few months prior. After all of that off-season emotion, a victory would have been sweet. So what happened?

Things went wrong from the get-go when Jeremiah Trotter, our only player capable of stopping another team's running game, got himself tossed from the contest before the opening coin flip. Things only got worse when McNabb was essentially karate-chopped by the Atlanta defense early in the game and played like crap the rest of the way. Star kicker David Akers blew two easy field goals, and Owens, for all of his hot air and bluster, caught zero touchdown passes. What it all added up to was the Birds stumbling to a 14-10 loss. Even a blowout over the hapless 49ers the following week did little to assuage my doubts.

Much of the drama on the team goes back to Owens, who forced a trade with the San Francisco 49ers before last season in order to get here. He's long been a bellwether for generating controversy; just a few of his antics include calling his agent after a touchdown, calling his former quarterback a homosexual in Playboy and mocking the other team's linebackers. He has a reputation as a locker-room menace, and I suppose we sold our soul to the devil when we got him. It was worth it, of course, because we got to the Super Bowl but, in the aftermath of last season, we now have to deal with the consequences. I'm worried.

And As For The Rest Of 'Em

The other three major teams all exist in varying stages of uncertainty. The Sixers reached the finals in 2001, losing to the Lakers in five, and have hovered on the cusp of mediocrity since. The Flyers have consistently been among the NHL's better teams over the past few years (not counting last year, of course,) but haven't scaled the top yet.

The true interest at the moment lies in the fate of the Phillies, who are locked in a struggle with the Florida Marlins and the Houston Astros for the NL wild card slot in the playoffs (also known as the Cardinals future punching bag). Both the Astros and the Marlins have superior pitching; the consistently inconsistent Brett Myers pales in comparison to the Fish's Dontrelle Willis and the Astros' immutable Roger Clemens. Yet the starting pitching isn't what's interesting about the Phillies; what is interesting (and sad) is that the team has the fifth-highest payroll in baseball and still can't do more than hover at a little better than .500.

But the money's not important; what is important is that the team makes the playoffs. They don't even have to win in the playoffs—they just need to get there. The last time that the Phillies did anything of note was in 1993, when they went to the World Series and lost to the Blue Jays in six; they haven't been to the playoffs since. For several years the team waded through quiet misery, but over the course of the past three seasons interest in their fate has been renewed through huge free-agent acquisitions like first baseman Jim Thome and closer Billy Wagner, as well as a brand-spankin' new ballpark, the gorgeous Citizen's Bank Park. The place is better suited for a home-run derby than an actual game, but at least it looks nice.

It is quite possible that both Wagner and Thome will be gone after this season; Wagner wants more money, and Thome is aging and stands to be replaced. The team has lots of young talent on the roster—Myers, awesome hitters Ryan Howard and Chase Utley, relief pitcher Ryan Madson—as well as stand-up leaders in Pat Burrell and Bobby Abreu. Abreu in particular—who got his first flash of the lime-light this year after his record-setting Home Run Derby—may be the single most underrated, five-tool player in baseball. There is hope for this team. It may have a future.

Can the Phillies take the wild card? I don't know. I hope they can; as a red-blooded sports fan, I have to.

That being said, I have to keep watching, for the same reason that Sox fans held their breath for eighty-six years, because hope sustains us. As a Philadelphian and a sports fan, I have a lot to hope for.

Aaron Cutler B'08 is the Philadelphia Freedom, and he loves, loves, loves you. Yes, he does.

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