Always a Philly Fan—Was There Even a Choice?

Fans have any number of reasons for rooting for their favorite, team, player, driver, conference, league, et cetera.

For me, it was simple. I was indoctrinated into rooting for all things Philadelphia. 

My father grew up in Camden and Glendora.  That's southwestern New Jersey from those outside of the Garden State, and these are regions steeped in Philly sports tradition.  While living on the other side of the Delaware river in Camden, my father was a regular on the south side of the city, attending Phils, Sixers and especially, Eagles games.

With a family to raise and a budget that did not include tickets to games as often, most games were viewed on the old Panasonic, with the Sunday atmosphere in the house dictated by the Birds performance that day.

A win equaled a happy Sunday dinner preceded by the old man playing stick ball or catch with my brother and I in the yard—the halcyon days of late summer and fall that I reminisce so fondly about.

A loss...well, that's a different story altogether. Quiet, somber meals that had the air of a wake. Actually, I would have preferred some of the wakes I've attended in my day. 

Following dinner, it was time to get out of the house.That was usually the time dad decided to put away the pots and pans, sending them into the cupboard with a fury that created a clattering to be heard by the rest of the neighborhood.

Regardless of the outcome, those days gathered around the TV or the days we were able to get to Veteran's Stadium were such great times. The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat and all. Regardless of the outcome, the family was together, usually screaming at the TV, good and bad. 

My mother yelling from the kitchen to relax. "It's just a game," she'd say.  Maybe, but there was so much riding on every game.  It could determine the mood for an entire week, or during playoffs, even longer.

I didn't realize it was happening at the time, but I was being molded, transformed from just a kid watching a game into lifelong Philly fan. Letting the score and outcome of something I had absolutely no control over determine how I was going to feel for the better part of the upcoming week doesn't seem all that rationale.

But then again, rationality has no part in rooting for a team you've been raised with.

I haven't taken up the Sunday night tradition of my father with the pots and pans. but we still mourn in our separate ways.  Mine is more of a contemplative, questioning of all things the universe contains. The most frequent question being, "If there is a God, how could he ever let the Giants or Cowboys win a game against my beloved Iggles?"

There are many lessons that have been past down from dear old dad. 

Take responsibility for your actions.

Never lie.

Be loyal to your family.

And a bunch of other minutiae. But most importantly:

Root vehemently for the Philadelphia Eagles on Sunday.