There's quite an interesting debate over at Puck Daddy about who the better defenseman was/is: Chris Chelios or Scott Stevens.
As a Flyers fan who had to see Scott Stevens torment Philadelphia for years, I'd have to say he was the single most frightening defenseman I've ever seen. But Chris Chelios is no slouch either. I'd probably give the edge to Stevens, but I'd take either one any day of the week. But seeing as they both laid some vicious hits against the Flyers, I say, screw them both.
Seriously, I thought Liindros was dead. Man I hate the Devils. And all of New Jersey for that matter. Especially the New Jersey Giants.
Jimmy Rollins got himself in a little trouble this summer when he said some unflattering things about Philadelphia fans.
Well, if winning a World Series wasn't enough to earn forgiveness from the masses, meech passes along the story of young James giving a young Eagles fan a helping hand, and totally redeeming himself.
The details, offered up by the one and only meech:
Philadelphia’s #1 source for repetitive music, Wired 96.5 FM, is currently running a contest on their Chio in the Morning show where the person who gets the biggest celebrity to call into the station would win a crispy pair of Eagles/Giants playoff tickets for this weekend’s game at the Meadowlands. According to station rules, this particular contest (which was done on The Howard Stern Show five years ago) officially ends tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock sharp. But thanks to a ballsy young gentleman named John Buto, they might as well end that shit right now.
Buto, a 17-year old high school senior from Gloucester County, NJ, had the bright idea of knocking on the door of Jimmy Rollins’ South Jersey mansion to see if the MVP-winning shortstop would do him the solid of calling in so he could win the tickets. Well, not only did Young James answer the door, but he invited the kid into his home and phoned the station on John’s behalf.
96.5 afternoon host Kannon (with a K!) took Jimmy’s call, verified that it was indeed the World Series champ and John Buto instantly became the front-runner for the Eagles tix.
That's pretty freakin awesome stuff if you ask me.
Currently, the Flyers are sitting as the third seed in the Eastern Conference, leading the Atlantic Division. They have the fourth most points (51) in the conference and are playing as well as any team in NHL over the past couple months. Yet somehow, Jeff Carter was the only Flyer selected to the All-Star team.
Without question, Mike Richards and/or Simon Gagne should have made the team. Richards is among the NHL leaders with 42 points, is a plus 16, and leads the NHL in shorthanded goals with 4, tied with Gagne and Carter. Defensively, he's a stud, and he's certainly among the best players in the Eastern Conference. Same thing with Simon, although, I can understand with his injuries and missing games that he didn't make it.
Also, there's no doubt in my mind Kimmo Timonen should be on the All-Star team as well. He's one of the best defensemen in hockey. He's been tremendous offensively and defensively this year, and it's a crime he's not on the squad. Braydon Coburn also has a strong case, but reasonably, you can't expect too many guys from one team. I'd say the Flyers absolutely deserved three All-Stars, with Carter, Richards and Timonen. But they only got one. You know why? Canada, that's way.
I'm still trying to recuperate from that insane trip, so I haven't really been all there. I did watch the Flyers on Tuesday, who earned a tough point in the shootout loss to Washington, tying the Rangers for first place in the Atlantic. That's pretty sweet. And the Sixers have won back-to-back games. I missed Tuesday's game because I was watching the Flyers, but last night, Andre Miller and Andre Iguodala were spectacular in the win.
It was quite stunning when Miller rose up and hit that three late in the fourth to essentially get the win. Though Marc Zumoff should probably try to temper his emotions a little bit for a big shot against the Bucks. This team sucks, remember? Anyway, I'd also like to give props to Theo Ratliff, who once again was a terror around the rim. Seriously, Theo and Mo Speights together are about a thousand times better than Elton Brand was. God I hate Duke.
Oh, and apparently UNC lost, which I didn't think was possible, over the weekend while I was out of pocket. All I can say is Tyrese Rice is a beast.
Now, some links …
-With the signing of Marcus Giles, the Phils once again get the wrong brother.
So today, I took off work because I felt like I was going to faint this morning, probably from this trip. I was cranky and angry, and I have to say, I let it fly in the comments.
Reading over that again, I feel obligated to let the few outside readers know a little about the contributors here at this site. I realize I've never done that. A heated exchange between Arkansas Fred and I is par for the course, something that's been happening since the day I met him. Here's a description of each of the so-called contributors of The House That Glanville Built.
Firs of all, I am friends with everyone you see listed to the left here, however odd that may seem at times. More often than not, we argue and yell at each other. This is normal behavior for us. If we aren't bickering to some extent, really, that's when something's wrong. That's why it's so much fun to yell at each other on this site.
Arkansas Fred was the first contributor besides myself here at this site. I've known Fred since junior high and became friends with the kid in high school. We've gone to countless Eagles, Phillies, Sixers and Flyers games together, not to mention Penn State games as well. We've been season ticket holders together for the Sixers and now, currently Penn State. And Arkansas Fred and I hate each other. Honestly. People ask how we can be friends. No one really knows. Having said that, I lived with the kid three out of my four years at Penn State, and I still thoroughly enjoy going to sporting events with the guy, even if he wasn't at the parade. Oh yeah, and he's a jerk.
silver fox is another guy who I've known for a long, long time. We've been friends since 9th grade and again, have gone to a ton of sporting events together, including many college basketball games as well. He also had season tickets with me for the Sixers, and we hang out quite a bit. He likes Villanova and Allen Iverson more than anyone I've ever met, but he also has some weird tendencies like owning a Michael Vick jersey and defending the Big East to its bitter death.
Lavar's Love Child is another Penn Stater who I've known for quite some time. He unfortunately lives in Boston currently, chasing the y axis. In high school we became friends and then, in college, roomed together for a year along with Arkansas Fred. He loves Penn State as much as anyone I know, and generally hates most people he meets. He's representing Philadelphia well up north.
uncle jellyfish is basically my hero. When I was a freshman at Penn State, he was a senior. His brother was a friend of mine and uj took us all under his wing to teach us how to party. Currently residing in Manayunk, he's an avid Philadelphia fan and gets ridiculously drunk every weekend.
Adam EatShit is another Penn Stater who I've known since junior high. We became friendly in high school and once college rolled around, good friends at Penn State. He lives and dies with Philadelphia sports the same way I do, only, believe it or not, has a worse temper than me. He is currently a roommate of mine, and I spent the greatest night of my life with him and uncle jellyfish. He's a scumbag and I like him for it.
The Charles is another longtime friend who I've known since high school. He was a little misguided growing up by a father who rooted for the Denver Broncos, but nonetheless, he loves Philadelphia sports to no end. He also is a Penn State through and through, and I lived with this fella two years in State College. He's quite a character with a journalism background himself, and he may or may not be friends with Kyle Korver. West Chester what?
Joltin Joe Blanton is one of the two people I've known the longest. We've been friends since elementary school, and have been making fun of people ever since. For some reason, the guy loves to run, and he is by far the biggest NBA fan on this site. Oh, and he wears a thing called a gator. He is a gay.
CuzinVin is the designer of the site. Yeah, I know, he's done a lot. Actually, he did create the cool little banner at the top. Now if his lazy ass would just do something else to get rid of this stupid blogger template. But I digress. I've known The Vinmeister since junior high, becoming friends in high school. We went to Penn State together, rooming together for three of four years, and he's a crazy, crazy man. You never really know what's next. His greatest passions in life are horrible movies and Asian women. Sports come as a secondary enjoyment for him, which makes him quite an odd character.
Toonces is another lifelong friend from elementary school. His favorite athlete of all time, as far as I know, is Greg Maddux. Yeah, he's one of those. He also owns a cat as a single male, not that there's anything wrong with that. Toonces embarked on quite a journey with silver fox and I, and I spent the day in Citizens Bank Park with him for the greatest speech of all time.
Essentially, all of us have known each other for a long time. A little too long if you ask me. We make fun of each other constantly, and if we aren't hating one another, we aren't ourselves. So don't you people worry, we all get along. Or not. But it's nothing to be alarmed about.
Ed note. In no way does this post reflect the views of the Reverend Paul Revere. Frankly, I think Arkansas Fred is a complete backstabbing fraud. I don't like Arkansas Fred, and I was this close to pulling this post.
A strange feeling has been brewing in me for the past few months and it has finally occurred to me what is that feeling. At first, I thought it was sinus pressure or a head cold, then I assumed it was just gas built up in my body. Now I know otherwise. I do not like Donovan McNabb.
First, let me say this. I have always been a Donovan guy. Since they drafted him, the man has gotten nothing but love from me. I have stuck up for him when others complained about his inaccuracy or his penchant to stay in the pocket. I explained to anyone that would listen last year that the man tore his ACL the year before and it takes a full 18 months before someone recovers 100% from that injury. I loved the guy. I really did. I wore my number 5 jersey out of respect to countless Eagles games and always gave him my biggest ovations during introductions. I think he is a great quarterback and is by far the best quarterback on the Eagles roster. Kevin Kolb is not even close to being in his class. Jeff Garcia was a product of a good system where Andy Reid changed his play calling to feature Brian Westbrook and the running game. I was there for Donovan's first start, a win versus the Redskins, and I will be there for his last start as an Eagle. He has been too good of a player not to respect him.
After saying all that, I do not like Donovan McNabb. I just don't. I'm sorry. I am not saying this after a shitty game where he is pulled. I am saying this after he has been on fire and led his team back to the playoffs. The man does not get it. He honestly does not get it. Now, I'm sorry the Dirty Thirty are a bunch of morons and went up to New York to boo you. I'm sorry that Ed Rendell openly asked the Eagles to draft Ricky Williams. I am sorry that people at times get a little impatient when a five yard pass is thrown directly at a players foot for the hundredth time. No one can change that, but God dammit we can at least forgive it and not bring it up every fucking press conference. If you want to be here, that is great. I would love for the guy to stay. Kevin Kolb is a complete waste of a draft pick. That was bullshit, and we all know it. Every other press conference we hear, people left me for dead and I survived , or some crap like that. Frankly, it is getting on my nerves.
The man takes too much shit personally. So what if a bunch of drunk idiots boo a bad pass. You do not have to hold it against them. Talk to Ron Jaworski, ask him how much he was booed in his career. I'm sure it was just as much as you. You do not hear him making snide remarks and acting like he is better then everybody. Just stop making comments, say something nice about the fans for once, who come every game and back the team no matter what and no matter where. Also, if you see an open lane now and again, take it. It is the playoffs and you are going to be in a windy stadium. Take the sure first down instead of trying to throw the ball fifty yards downfield into double coverage. It's fine to just move the chains and keep the ball in your possession.
If you have time, have a talk with Brian Dawkins. That man gets it. That man understands that these fans come every week to make a statement and to back the Eagles as best they can. When he acknowledged the crowd during introductions in the Cowboy game, my heart sank a bit. I do not want to picture an Eagles game without Dawkins running all over the field giving it everything he has. I really do not want to picture an Eagles game without Donovan. There is not a quarterback I would want to see lead the Eagles down the field. I just wish he did not have to be such a douche about it.
You know what I hate? Jobs. Working. Anything regarding something I have to do, not something I want to do.
Call me lazy, unambitious, a jerk. I'm fine with that. The thing is, work may interfere with the unending joy I have in updating this site as often as I do. Apparently yesterday, in my absence due to that ungodly drive back from Minneapolis, there were some big goings on in my office.
In essence, a few people were let go, raises were deferred from the beginning of the year to the middle, and everyone's job was shifted to some extent. Which is to say, I'm now going to be doing more writing and editing for my real job, giving me less time to do so right here. Fuck that shit.
It's all blamed on the economy, of course. Hopefully I'll figure something out and keep pumping things out around here. However, those 80-90 some odd posts the past few months may be reduced. We'll see.
In summation, fuck work, fuck the Giants and LET'S GO BIRDS!!!!!
I wish you well, sir. Except if we meet again in the World Series, of course. Pat's time in Philadelphia was certainly a journey, full of ups and downs. Through it all, the man has earned my respect.
Pat struggled through some truly atrocious and disappointing seasons during his tenure here. I will always remember sitting in the left field seats of the Vet and yelling at him to "hit your weight" in reference to his batting average (he hit .209 in 2003). I will admit that I was among the many Phillies fans and members of the Philadelphia media who bashed the guy.
Pat, however, persevered through those rough times. And though his numbers were never spectacular, he has consistently put up solid numbers. From '05 through '08 he averaged 31 home runs, 98 RBI's, and 103 walks. And of course there is his last at bat as a Phillie, that booming double off the wall in the deepest part of the ballpark, which led to pinch runner Eric Bruntlett scoring the game-winning, series-clinching run on Pedro Feliz's single.
The thing that has changed my perception of Pat the most was his character. Despite all the bashing the man took during those rough seasons, not once did you hear him complain, and not once did you hear him make an excuse. He just kept working, kept playing, and became a player who contributed to the Phillies' success. He is one of the few Philadelphia athletes who lived in the city, and through his time here has developed an understanding of our city and our fans that few athletes have. He has seen us at our worst, and he has seen us at our best.
For him to have put up with all he did here, never back down or quit, and accomplish what he did here, it is impressive. And to hear him talk now, as a world champion, about what it means to "bring this to these people" is something that I will always remember and appreciate. He will be missed not only on the field, but also off it for that deep understanding and relationship that he has developed with us and our city, for that is a rare and special thing in today's sports world.
Read this and try not to hate Major League Baseball.
J.C. Romero is going to be suspended for the first 50 games of 2009 because he purchased an over-the-counter supplement at GNC. The MLB players union told players they have no reason to believe any supplements purchases legally in U.S. retail stores have banned substances. Romero had it checked by a nutritionist, the Phillies' nutritionist and rechecked by a nutritionist, all of whom found nothing wrong with the substance.
Chamomiles Davis has a great recount of what happened.
After the World Series flopped nationally without a team from Boston or New York partaking, Major League Baseball has taken its first step to rectify that, what with the Mets being the Phillies prime competition in the National League. What a fucking joke. Don't be surprised if Brad Lidge, Jimmy Rollins and Chase Utley get suspiciously suspended for something or another, while the fucking Mets sign Barry Bonds as he gets cleared of any wrong-doing. Fuck you, MLB. Fuck you right in Bud Selig's ass.
What? Seriously, what? Two years for 16 mill? Really? You'd rather have 37-year-old, terrible fielding Raul Ibanez than 32-year-old, at least I can throw and hit bombs Pat Burrell? Burrell is getting $8 million a year for two years, is 5 years younger and can actually throw people out and work walks. Ibanez is making $10 million a year for three years, when he'll be 40, can't field or throw, and is left-handed while the team desperately needs a right-handed bat.
Today, somehow, I made it to work. Normally, that's not at all a remarkable feat, but after taking a four-day, 2,3000-plus mile road trip out to Minnesota for the Eagles-Vikings wild card game Sunday, the fact that I'm still alive is a minor miracle in and of itself … literally.
On the way home, we almost nailed a deer on Route 80 in Ohio that just decided to run out in the middle of the highway.
But lucky for you, the few readers that actually make it to this little site, I'm here to recount one of the longest, most insane road trips of my life.
It all started on Friday night. After returning from work, I headed to upper Bucks County to meet Toonces and silver fox at Toonces' dad's house to embark on our trip. The three of us unloaded the ungodly amount of shit that silver fox inexplicably had in his car, loaded up our supplies—which consisted essentially of clothes, a container of peanuts, a bag of soft pretzels, cds and some other stuff to play with. We were in a for a long, long ride.
Leaving some time around 8 p.m., the 1,153-mile quest through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin and ultimately into Minnesota began. We headed up 476, with silver fox at the wheel, Toonces as navigator and myself in the back. We were ready to go and all sorts of pumped about it. Moral was high and our mission was clear: Get to Minny in one piece.
As we got to route 80, it didn't take long for us to hit our first setback. Unbeknownst to me, silver fox had been going quite fast as we approached a rest stop somewhere in the eastern half of Pennsylvania. But silver fox saw the dreaded site of flashing lights in his mirror, and minutes later, we were stopped on the side of the road as an officer issued a ticket to silver for going 92 in a 65.
Now, there's two ways to look at it, the negative view and the positive view. The negative view is that this trip was off to a rough start and doomed from the beginning. The positive view was we got the ticket out of the way nice and early, and things could only go up. We chose to look at it in that light, meaning spirits were still quite high and our quest was still on full board.
The rest of PA was kind of a blur. I was supposed to be sleeping in the back so I'd be ready to drive when it was my turn. You see, we had a nice system of one person driving, the passenger staying awake to keep the driver company and conscious, and the person in the back getting some shut-eye to be well-rested for his turn to drive. However, things didn't always go according to play, especially at the beginning. I was too amped to sleep, however, sleep would come eventually.
The trip out PA was unspectacular but efficient. I went to Penn State, so there were no great sights to behold or new things to encounter for us. It was the same old same old. But once we hit our first rest stop in Ohio, our excitement built yet again.
We stopped to fill up, re-energize and switch drivers … and once we pulled in, we saw a white van filled to the brim with Eagles fans. They, too, were heading out on ground, and this pumped us up even more. The feeling was that there would be a ton of Eagles fans out there, what with the non-sellout and cheap tickets. Essentially, our thought that we would not be alone was confirmed early in the trip, and we couldn't wait to get to Minnesota.
I've driven through Ohio and a portion of Indiana a couple times before in my life to catch some Notre Dame games with my cousin. Having done that, I know that driving through Ohio sucks a big, fat donkey dick. Luckily for me, I slept quite a bit of the way through that awful, awful drive.
At some point in Indiana, it was my turn to take the wheel, which made me very happy, seeing as the speed limit is 70 in the Hoosier state. At this point, we were many hours into the trip and delirium had set in a bit. The entire way, we could not get the Ting Tings song "That's Not My Name," out of our heads, even though we didn't hear it once on the radio and none of us had the cd. Don't judge us. That's a catchy tune and you all know it. Anyway, we were flying through Indiana, seeing Eagles fans occasionally in other cars, giving waves, fist-pumps and beeps, keeping morale high.
The three of us were snapping odd photos, talking nonsense and singing along to the music like it was our job.
We made it through Indiana when it happened: Illinois. Ugh. Let me be the first to say that route 80/90 or whatever the hell it is in Illinois is in the worst shape going west of any road I have ever been on in my life. For nearly the entire stretch, the right lane is filled with potholes the size of craters in long, car-tearing stretches. It's like driving through an obstacle course. Pretty disgraceful actually, and certainly not safe—especially when you consider that it is a fucking toll road.
I was blown away by just how horrible of a condition this road was in. It made 76 and 309 look like the Mona Lisa of roads. Horrible. And another thing … Illinois' toll system is out of control. You know how in PA and Ohio and Indiana and Jersey and New York and every other freaking state in the world you stop at the first toll booth to get a ticket and then pay at your exit? Well, in Illinois, there are no ticket booths. None. You're just driving along the highway when out of nowhere, a toll booth pops up. It's not a booth to get a ticket. It's a booth where you pay a sum that is a complete surprise, since you have no ticket telling you of the price. It's outrageous. And they are all over. After paying an 80 cent toll, minutes later, you're paying another. Then another. Then another. And they just pop up out of the blue. It's pretty fucking stupid if you ask me.
At one, so distraught by the condition of the road, I mentioned the potholes to the toll taker. He laughed and responded, "Yeah, it's like …" and made his impression of a bumpy road. This made me laugh. He seemed like a good guy.
Anyway, driving through Chicago was quite an odd experience. Having never been west of South Bend in my entire life, it was a completely new experience for me. Chicago is incredibly spread out across this highway, and I was blown away by the amount of Spanish radio stations. There are Hispanics in the Midwest? I had no idea. Chicago was pretty cool-looking, but I was glad when we finally got through and out of Illinois.
Besides the scenery of the Windy City, the trip through Ohio, Indiana and Illinois was boring as hell, with nothing but flat landscapes all around.
Next up was the state most notorious for its cheese, Wisconsin.
What I noticed most about Wisconsin was a seemingly lack of any attractive women on the ride. It was more of the same in terms of flatness most of the way, but there were some cool landmarks and odd rocks to keep us interested. Also, there seemed to be much more trees, which is a plus.
Then we stopped at a gas station in Wisconsin to refuel. When we walked in, we were mesmerized by the endless supply of liquor and beer right next to the sodas and energy drinks. Like the rest of the Midwest, you can purchase alcohol at any local convenience store. This is awesome and once again reaffirms, Pennsylvania has the gayest liquor laws in the entire country, if not the world.
Seeing as we were on a mission, we restrained ourselves from loading up on alcohol. We did get a nice laugh when we heard the cashier speak. She sounded exactly like every character in "Fargo." Those people out there talk funny as shit.
Finally, we made it through Wisconsin and some time in the early afternoon entered Minnesota. About 20 miles or so from Minneapolis, we set up shop, got a hotel room and waited for Sunday to come. Naturally, we did this by eating and getting drunk.
We stayed at a Holiday Inn Express that was right in the middle of some shopping centers and eateries. For lunch, we headed to a place called Ray J.'s, a bar and grill. Now, let me tell you something, these people can eat and it's no wonder why. The temperatures in Minnesota did not leave single digits while we were there, and I can honestly say, it was the coldest place I've ever been in my life. Eating and drinking is probably the only way to stay warm.
We ordered some burgers and silver fox had some chili while Toonces and I ordered a thing called beer cheese soup. It is exactly what it sounds like: melted cheese in stew form with some beer in it.
Amazing. After filling up on food, we picked up a case of beer and settled into our hotel room. Immediately, we began drinking, playing drinking games and watching the Cardinals manhandle the Falcons on our hotel television. It was getting pretty rowdy and we were getting steadily drunker when we decided to head back to Ray J.'s, take some shots and watch some football.
Well, that turned into a shitshow and a half. It was snowing outside, we were drunk and we were about to get drunker. Not only do these people eat like champs, they drink like champs. We ordered a round of beers and shots of bourbon. The beers were bigger than a souvenir cup at any sporting event, and the shot was more like a shot and a half or two. As we downed some beers, we became louder and louder, urging silver fox to hit on the waitress and calling a pink-shirt wearing Minnesotan names at louder and louder volumes. No altercation ensued, seeing as Minnesotans are honestly the nicest people I've ever met in my life, but we, nonetheless, were acting like our typical Philadelphia selves. These people must have thought we were nuts.
After extending our stay at Ray J.'s a little too long, we went back to the room, drank some more and played poker as we watched the Chargers edge out the Colts. We were rowdy and drunk, leaving a warpath of a mess in our wake, and immediately after Darren Sproles ended the game, our drained bodies collapsed. When we awoke on Sunday morning, the temperature outside was -1 degrees. We ate our continental breakfast, with silver fox wearing a Phillies hat and Toonces in his Donovan jersey, and a kind Minnesotan asked about being Eagles fans. He was amused and stunned that we had driven some 18 hours to go to the game. He wasn't the last.
After showering and recovering, we checked out and took off for Minneapolis. I had the unlucky fortune of being the driver the short distance to the Metrodome. The reason it was unlucky was because silver fox's windshield wipers weren't working correctly, leaving me with limited vision through the salt, dirt and precipitation from the road. However, we made it one piece with the intention of walking around. Then we got outside the car and felt like our faces were going to fall off. Minnesota is ridiculously cold. They have a dome there for a reason. It hurts to be outside it is so cold.
So, we set up shop at Hubert's Bar & Grill right across the street from the Metrodome.
Once we entered, the bar had a strong contingent of Vikings fans, but the place was also packed with Eagles fans. It was a thing of beauty. Here we were, 1,100-plus miles away from Philadelphia, and it looked like we were in downtown Philly scanning areas of the bar. Eagles jerseys were everywhere, and when I was on the phone with a friend, "Fly Eagles Fly" engulfed the bar, along with a rowdy Eagles chant. It was glorious.
However, despite a few boos when the song and chant was going on, the Minnesotans in the bar were nothing but generous. Never a bad word, never a derogatory statement. Nothing. They were nice and talkative and endearing. It was strange to say the least.
We watched the Dolphins get taken apart by the Ravens and chatted it up with some Birds fans. The thing that was odd to me was the number of Eagles fans I met that were not from Philadelphia. There was a guy from Canada, originally from Arizona, who rooted for the Eagles. Then there was a group from Illinois donned in green. I was a little taken aback that there were people out there that supported Philadelphia even though they had never lived in or near the city. I just assumed everyone hated us. Apparently not.
After a few hours at the bar and a mountain of fried food in our stomaches, we entered the Metrodome and found our seats.
Now, I have to say, it's easy to see that the Metrodome is an older facility. The corridors were not all that wide, the screens weren't playing the early game at all, and the replay screens in the stadium were tiny—nothing like the behemoths at the Linc. Also, there seemed to be no energy in the pregame from the Vikings fans. It was like walking around at a funeral, not a playoff football game.
We were there nice and early, talking to some people who were stunned we'd travel so far to support our team. Minnesotans don't seem to live and die with their teams quite like us Philadelphians. Eventually, we met up with a couple of friends who flew out and watched warm-ups.
There were Eagles fans littered throughout the entire stadium. An entire section right where the Eagles entered the field was loaded with Eagles fans. It was a sight to behold. David Akers was killing the ball, nailing a 62-yarder with ease, and things were really beginning to take shape as the stadium filled. A kind Vikings fan, with a Corona in hand, politely asked us if we'd trade Andy Reid for Brad Childress. Apparently, Minnesotans don't care of Childress all that much. Later, I'd see why.
Literally all over there were patches of Eagles fans. Finally, it was time to begin the game. I have to say, the Vikings do a good job in providing a solid atmosphere. The guy who looks like a Viking and is one of their mascots was tremendous. He drove out of the Viking ship tunnel on a Harley to amp up the fans and does a hilarious job of dancing in one end zone between quarters as the cheerleaders dance in the other. Thumbs up to that guy.
Thumbs down to that annoying horn they blow though. That thing is pretty cool, but the Vikings played it every time a player walked out for warm-ups. It got old pretty quick. But come game time, none of that mattered. The Eagles fans were pumped as hell, and after hearing a horrible rendition of the National Anthem by Taylor Hicks, it was time for kickoff.
I have to say, being in a dome is ridiculously loud. I couldn't hear myself think at times. If there was one in Philadelphia, you'd honestly have to wear ear plugs to the games or else your eardrums would explode. It's that loud.
However, what I noticed is that Vikings fans only get amped for the first three plays the opposition has the ball on each series. After that, they're quiet as a mouse. And the enthusiasm from the Minnesotans is nothing compared to Philadelphians. Not once did I hear a Vikings fan curse, freak out or yell scathing remarks to any other player or fan. In fact, the worse thing anyone said to us wasn't even bad. We were sitting on the end of a row, seats 1, 2 and 3, and a guy came up to us and said, "I used to like Philadelphia until a guy up there said he was going to stab me in neck." Sounds about right.
Now, you all know what happened in the game. It was a tense battle between two defenses that were playing great and two offenses that were streaky at best. I'd just like to point to some things in the game.
First off, all three of us, and every Eagles fan, were going nuts at that game. It had the atmosphere of a home a game at times. And when Asante returned that interception for a touchdown, it was pandemonium for us Eagles fans.
But when Adrian Peterson busted that third-and-one play for a touchdown, things looked grim for us. The Eagles were moving at will and controlling the ball, yet the Vikings had a lead. And to make matters worse, one Vikings fan from across the row came over and stuck a high five in our face. He didn't mean to be menacing it seems, but we were pissed. When Asante returned the pick, we went right back at him in an aggressive manner, all three of us sticking our hands in his face. Had we done that in New York, we would have been beaten. Same thing if a Vikings fan had tried that in Philadelphia. In Minnesota, nothing. We weren't even yelled at by anyone. Stunning.
The game was physically draining for me. Throughout, it was close and almost too much to handle. Minnesota's run defense was everything it's cracked up to be. Those guys on the front four are beasts. The Eagles really got nothing going on the ground, but I gotta give Andy credit, he stuck with the run to stay balanced.
On the flip side, the Eagles defense was outstanding, especially in the second half. The only player who had a bad game in my eyes was Sheldon, who had a pass interference penalty on third down that extended the drive in which Peterson scored, missed the tackle on Bernard Berrian that led to another Vikings touchdown on a play that he not only interfered with Berrian, but also missed the tackle, allowing him to get a huge gain, and then missed an interception that would have iced game even though it was thrown right to him.
At that point, I lost my mind, yelling, "Catch the fucking ball, Sheldon!" and chased off a couple fans in front of me. Literally, they left. Whatever.
Offensively, Jason Avant and Brent Celek really impressed me. The two got open, ran great routes and came up with huge catches. The offensive line played great on passing downs, and McNabb, despite holding onto the ball too long occasionally, played solid football. His interception was essentially a punt, and the fumble could have been avoided, but Jared Allen did beat Tra pretty easily on the play.
Of course, Brian Westbrook was the star, catching that screen when Nick Cole almost knocked him over, then setting up his blockers and taking it to the house.
Also, Akers was amazing, and Rocca did a great job punting. Kickers sure do love them some domes. It was a tremendous team effort. The Eagles, save for that one run, shut down Adrian Peterson, and after giving up some nice runs to Chester Taylor early, took him away too. That forced Tavaris Jackson to beat them, and that game made it abundantly clear that Tavaris Jackson sucks. He could be the worst quarterback of a playoff team I've ever seen. He honestly threw some of the worst, most off-target passes I've seen in my life.
When the game was finally completely iced on the fumble by Jackson/Matt Birk, the celebration began. Vikings fans left in a mass exitus as Eagles fans stayed and celebrated. "Fly Eagles Fly" was heard all over, Eagles chants echoed in the dome and finally, it all culminated in a Giants Suck chant. It was glorious.
On our walk out, the Vikings fan couldn't have been nicer. They all wished us luck in the rest of the playoffs, and kindly welcomed us into their home state. It was weird. No one seemed pissed. Disappointed, yes. But pissed, no. In fact, the only guy who seemed angry at all was the old security guard who told us all to leave after a few fans started chanting Vikings Suck during the Giants Suck chant. Other than that, the people were incredibly nice.
I really don't have one bad thing to say about Minnesota and its people other than the fact it is pathetic they couldn't sell out a home playoff game. But they were generally nice people. I felt completely out of my element. But it was a pleasant experience all around.
What was not pleasant, however, was the return trip to Philadelphia. What a bitch that thing was.
We started out by stopping at Taco Bell to get some food. Bad idea. Silver fox's car is going to smell like stale farts and cigarettes for months. I mean, we destroyed that car with nuclear farts, and his incessant smoking only added to the aroma. We also stopped at a Target to pick up some CDs, which of course included the Ting Tings so we could play that song out on the trip, which we did.
Honestly, don't judge us. It was a long fucking trip, all right? We also picked up an air freshener, which proved useless, and some other CDs. The best was certainly the Nick Swardson comedy album. That guy is funny as hell.
The return trip was not nearly as fun as the ride out. I did get first shift of sleeping yet again, but the thing was just painful. I don't remember any part of the trip being fun, and numerous times, all three of us struggled to stay awake. We had to stop many more times to get coffee/fuel/air. It was horrendous.
Then, in Ohio, we almost crushed some deer, which would have been deadly. It was the trip that just never seemed to end. We left Minnesota somewhere around 9 p.m. Sunday and I got to my parents' house in Bucks County a little before 4 p.m. Monday before finally heading home a little after 7 and returning to my house around 7:55. I hated every second of it, but it was well worth the trip. To take in that game in a foreign stadium was a ton of fun, especially with all the Eagles fans out there. It was one hell of road trip, and we have some nice photos of our shenanigans, like me hitting silver fox in the head with a chair and Toonces pulling the covers out from under him, and it's an experience of a lifetime.
Having said that, I don't want to get inside a car for a long, long time. And fuck the Giants. For real.
Some of you, specifically Jill, have wondered what's the deal with my Eagles coverage of this weekend. Well, first of all, Jill, if you are reading and are attractive, please shoot the Reverend an email. Secondly, I just got back from a three-day journey that involved driving from Philadelphia to Minnesota, getting all sorts of drunk, attending the game at the Metrodome, and then driving back to Philadelphia. I just got back to my house at 7:55 p.m. and am more tired than I've ever been in my life. I assure you, a recap will be coming, and a detailed one at that. However, for now, I must sleep, because I am so disoriented I'm not sure if this is even in English.
Well, the Eagles are somehow in the playoffs, so we might as well start dancing to the fight song, since we won't hear it in the Linc being an away game and all.
Yeah, I'm talking to you, Bill Simmons. Your friend Tollin isn't a die-hard Philly fan. He's a fucking jerkoff:
Their fans are so exhausted from being tortured by them that last Sunday, with the Eagles needing a win against Dallas and a Tampa/Minnesota loss to make the playoffs, my partner for Clippers season tickets (Tollin, a die-hard Philly fan) opted to attend a Mavs-Clips game over staying home and rooting for the Iggles to sneak into the playoffs. Why? Here's the e-mail he sent me after I jokingly asked him if he wanted the Clips tickets:
So Clipps-Dallas or Iggs-Dallas? Hmm, that should be pretty easy ... an early-season NBA day game between an historically & dysfunctionally miserable team and an aging, underachieving, boring team with zero playoff or global implications ... OR a last-game-of-the-year showdown between the football team I've rooted for fruitlessly for 45 years, still dreaming that they'll pick up on Phillies karma and do the unthinkable by somehow eking their way to Tampa and then making the third time the charm ... and the hated, evil archrivals who come as close to the Celtics as any pro team ever has in terms of hatability ... BUT -- even if Al's Raiders manage to upset the Bucs, making the 4.15 tilt a winner-goes-on, loser-goes-home Instant Classic, raising the specter of Wilbert Montgomery all over again, I just don't think I can let myself get sucked in again. Andy's not up to it, Donovan's not up to it, our receivers aren't up to it, Westy can't do it all by himself ... after last weekend's debacle in DC, sitting there with a raging flu all by myself for seven hours, nursing the unlikely Raiders over the Bucs and then watching the Iggs self-destruct against a team who had pretty much folded the tents and whose coach had pretty much said, "ok, just put me out of my misery ... " I can't do it to myself. I would rather take my kid to a totally meaningless, emotionless NBA game, set the TiVo in case the Raiders pull it off and then torture myself trying to avoid the score on the Staples scoreboards and listen to Sirius on the way home and then close the door and suffer in silence. So yeah, I'll take the tickets.
No, not their fans. Just your faggotty friend. He sucks at life. Granted, I turned down buying tickets to the game myself, but I fucking watched the game. Also, Arkansas Fred told me they were looking for $50 to $60 (which I thought he meant each), and I really didn't wanna spend money on a team that choked so badly the week before. Granted, it looked like a great time, but hindsight is always 20/20. I watched every second of the game, AND I'm driving out to Minnesota to go to the playoff game. Tollin is a fraud, not a die-hard. Sounds like he died pretty easily if he didn't even watch the game.
I really get so torn reading Simmons. He'll write something hilarious like this today:
Philly's Andy Reid will be battling former assistant Brad Childress on Sunday in a matchup Peter King described as "teacher vs. pupil." Teacher versus pupil???? That explains everything! Do you think Reid tutored Childress in classes like "Screwing Up a Two-Minute Drill," "Hanging Your QB Out to Dry," "Dumb and Possibly Damaging Field-Goal Attempts," "Idiotic Short-Yardage Calls," "Special Teams Collapses," "How To Blow Your Challenges," "Leaving Yourself With No Timeouts" and "How To Remain Calm As You're Getting Booed By Your Own Fans"?
Then he'll talk about a die-hard who would rather go to a Clippers game than watch the Eagles play the Cowboys. Also, no one gives two shits about Robert Parish. The fact he's in the Hall of Fame while Maurice Cheeks is not is a joke. I hope the Eagles win Sunday and Tollin gets hit by a bus before the game starts.
Welp, I sure as shit was wrong. USC is absolutely 10 points better than Penn State. In fact, It's just about halftime and they're 24 points better. And there's still 30 more minutes of this garbage.
I'd just like to reiterate, white football players, specifically anything but linemen or quarterbacks, are not to be trusted. Mark Rubin sucks. Anthony Scirrotto sucks. Josh Hull still sucks. I hate this game and I hate all of you.
It is now 10 am and I have been pacing around the house for two hours already. I'm too excited to sleep and I sure as hell can not sit still. The past week has been amazing if not brilliant, for the most part. If things go as planned it could be capped off with a win in the grand daddy of them all, THE ROSE BOWL. Now let me start first with last Sunday.
Last Sunday, a friend of mine called me and asked me to get rid of his other buddies' tickets to the Eagles versus Dallas game. He said to get what you can get and they just wanted to get rid of the tickets. The tickets were $90 seats in the second row of the end zone facing 95. Needless to say, they were decent seats. So I called Rev. and I called Silver Fox among a few people. I offered them the seats leaving the price open to negotiations. I said $50 to $60 dollars for the seats. Both of them passed on the tickets. They both passed on cheap tickets to an EAGLES versus Cowboys game. I was stunned to say the least. I ended up calling our other buddy, or Rev's enemy. I offered him the tickets and he purchased two seats to this game for $40 total. That is a 180 dollar value of tickets for $40.
As I was waiting for him outside the gate to the stadium, I was standing next to Donovan's father. Now from all the years of hearing about his mom and dad, I know Donovan's dad when I see him. I was 100% positive it was him. The gate we enter the Linc is right next to the valet parking lot, so he was standing waiting for another member of his suite party I assumed. Now, I did not say anything to the guy as I waited. I thought about saying something complimentary about his son because I have always been a Donovan guy. I think Kevin Kolb is an idiot and is a waste of a pick that could have been something to help out Donovan. After a few minutes, a black Escalade pulls up and Mr. McNabb went over to the car.
Who comes out but Donnie's wife and she brought the famous twins. As Mr. McNabb struggled to set up a double wide baby stroller, I glanced over occasionally, but did not stare like some fans who stopped and strained their bodies over a rail to try and stare at the babies. I thought I was being polite. After five minutes, the McNabb family finally was ready to move into the stadium and they all passed in front of me. First of all, I do not know what Donovan finds attractive in his wife. I do not see it. I'm sorry. Finally, after ten people passed Mr. McNabb walked by. Now, I'm not sure what I said, but I decided to try and be supportive of Donovan. I said something like, "I hope your son comes back next year." That was it. Well, I might as well have called Mr. McNabb a douchebag with the look he gave me. I got a combination of the Evil and Snake Eyes in one. I was taken aback. He never stopped, he just glanced quickly, but from that encounter, I realized that Donovan's dad is a jerk.
As for the game, it was the third greatest Eagles game I have ever been to. Number one and two are the NFC championship and the playoff win against the Lions. It was amazing. I have not screamed and laughed so hard in years. From the moment the final scores of the 1 o'clock games were texted [Ed note: by me] to me and the fans all around found out, it was mayhem. The team came out of the helmet and they introduced the defense. Saving the best for last, as usual, Brian Dawkins was finally introduced. As he waved the fog in the air and did his danced, he ended it by blowing kisses to each side of the stadium. If this was Dawk's last game, then God dammit I was going to do everything I could to help and 70 thousand other people thought the same way.
It was loud. Cowboy fans were being yelled at and objects tossed in their direction. Then the Eagles brought out the blind kid, Timmy Kelly, to sing the National Anthem. Dallas never had a shot. Granted, I was worried when they marched down and kicked their first field goal, but that feeling did not last long. Thanks to a vicious defense and Tony Romo's decision to suck at life, the game was over by halftime. The party had started. The chants of Dallas sucks, ROOMMMMMMMOOOOO ROOOOMMMMOOOOOO, and dusted out of the closet the TO, TO, TOOOOOOO, TO TOOOOOOO. That last chant was accompanied by a middle finger baton wave. It was glorious and they heard every word of it. Dallas straight up got raped by Philadelphia and we all laughed with delight.
To top it off, Brian Dawkins played like a super hero. The way Weapon X has played his whole career. Decking people, causing fumbles, sacking the quarterback. He was everywhere and anywhere. If he does not come back next year, I will probably cry. I am not joking. Let him stay as long as he wants and they better retire his number the moment he does retire. It would be a shame if they didn't.
That brings us to today. The past four days have been a haze. I'm still not sure what has happened. 2008 has been a hell of a year and today I think 2009 will start with a bang. I hate USC. I do not like Pete Carroll. I'm sick of every sportscaster in America telling me how USC will destroy Penn State. Well today is the day we find out who is right. Today is another chance for Joe Pa to prove America wrong. Today we witness the last game of D Will, Deon, and Jordan. God bless them and what they did for that University.
I just received a call from a buddy at the Rose Bowl. He told me it is the greatest thing he has ever witnessed and they just arrived. He parked next to a USC fan with a Dodgers bumper sticker. He also told me Ki-Jana Carter called one of the people at his tailgate asking to hang out. That's got to be a good sign for the day ahead. FUCK CALIFORNIA.
