Why Do I Bleed Eagle-Green? Thank You, Dad

(Photo by Michael Heiman/Getty Images)

I remember being very young, about four or five years old, and hating Sundays. Not only was it the last day off before going back to school, but it was the day that the house's only TV was taken up by a bunch of giant men wrestling around for a ball.

I just didn't understand it.

All I wanted to do was eat some cereal, sit out on the couch, and watch the Power Rangers. Yes, the Power Rangers. I was four. Leave me alone.

Anyway, that was never the case.

I would always come out to my dad taking up the whole couch and watching football. I didn't understand why anyone would rather watch something so boring rather than watching the Power Rangers and eating Cap'n Crunch.

However, when I was six years old, I think I made my father happier than I had at any point in his life, and happier than I would ever make him again.

I decided to sign up to play Pee-Wee football.

Why? I don't really remember anymore but one day it seemed as though the giants wrestling for a ball became extremely interesting. Perhaps it was just seeing it every day and giving in to actually paying attention, who knows.

But I was now a football player, and I don't think my dad could have been happier.

(By the way, I have no idea who the people are in the picture. It's not me, nor is it my father. Just to clear that up...moving along!)

My dad never got to play football in school. While he's a very large, body-building prison guard (yeah, don't look at him funny) now, he was a very doughy little boy in school.

Poor guy.

But football had become a big part of his life, and I wanted it to be a part of mine as well. So, football entered my life. Little did I know, it would never leave.

Naturally I was an Eagles fan from day one. My dad watched the Eagles, my great-Grandfather watched the Eagles, my uncle watched the Eagles, my grandfather on my mom's side (was buried in his Eagles attire), and so did everyone else.

Really, I had no choice.

For some reason, my favorite player was Hollis Thomas. I guess it was just because I had heard the stories about how he went undrafted but rather than give up on his dreams he sent a tape of himself to all 32 teams, and the Eagles were the only ones who called back.

He was a true rags-to-riches story and even at a young age I took it to heart. So much so that my first number was 78, in honor of Hollis Thomas.

I played football my entire grade-school career, and with each passing year I became more and more interested in the Philadelphia Eagles and just the NFL in general.

Like most people, I became a fan through family preference. However my "fandom" has taken on a life of itself. It's even to the point that I have the Eagles' head tattooed on my left shoulder.

Yes, tattooed. And why? Because the Philadelphia Eagles are a huge part of my life.

During the season, they dictate my week. If the Eagles lose, I'm miserable. If they win, the week can progress without a hitch...until next Sunday.

The Philadelphia Eagles, and football in general, have helped me to become a better person. Football will do that to you. Learning to work as a team and overcome hardships is a day-to-day battle for football.

No team exemplifies this trait more than the Philadelphia Eagles.

They are my team. They are my passion. I wasn't around in '68, but if I was I'd be the first to pick up that fateful snowball and hurl like Norm Van Brocklin into the body of that awful, awful Santa Clause.

Cut me open, I will bleed green. That is, after I rock you for cutting me open. Don't mess with a fan of the Philadelphia Eagles.

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