One of these days, I really will learn. Until then, however, I suppose that I am doomed to suffer from history repeating itself - and that history is the Philadelphia Eagles destroying my spirit every single year.
The Eagles lost in the NFC Championship this past week to an inferior Arizona Cardinals team. It literally pains me to talk about it, and that in and of itself is a symptom of a greater problem. Why does it hurt me so badly when a stinkin' football team loses one step away from the Super Bowl? If they don't care that much, then why the heck do I? Why do I now have to avoid newspapers, sports talk radio, and my beloved ESPN podcasts?
Because I am insufferable. The older I have gotten, the better I've taken the in-season defeats. Back when I was a kid (and young adult), the regular season gaffes and debacles would ruin weeks and cause the destruction of many small items around the house. These days, though, I deal with the regular parade of losses very well - especially since I don't want to get yelled at by my wife for acting like an idiot (since she's right).
But this particular defeat set me off like few losses before. Perhaps it's because they really had a great shot at finally winning The Big One; perhaps because they were just 2 or 3 plays away from winning by two touchdowns; perhaps, just perhaps, because I am starting to start my own football mortality in the face. After all, it's no given that any team will win a championship. Every year is a new opportunity to lose in exciting and different ways.
The real issue has nothing to do with me, though. Heck, I am barely concerned about myself anymore. After all, as a 38-year old man who has followed this team his entire life, it's pretty clear that they're not going to win a Super Bowl in my lifetime. Now, though, I have a much greater concern - my little boy. He's only 18 months old, but he's already fallen victim to my Eagles dementia. The day of the game, we were both sporting Eagles jerseys, chanting the E-A-G-L-E-S cheer, and generally chasing a rolling football around the house.
How can I in good conscience pass this horrible, awful disease on to him?
Sure, at this point, he doesn't really know an Eagle from a Giant or a (gasp) Cowboy. When he gets a few years older, I'll likely encourage him to choose his own team without being "forced" to be a Birds fan. I just hope he doesn't follow in his Dad's footsteps on this one. After all, I am tired of this happening every darned year. It's exhausting, and frankly I don't know how much more I can take.
*sigh*
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