Philadelphia Freedom: Mike Vick and the Fickle Fans of Philly

"I once spent a year in Philadelphia. I think it was a Sunday." W.C. Fields

Mike Vick made the right pick.

He made the right read because Philadelphia could be his kind of town.

Sure, a few of the of the fans will be frothing mad, but if he leads the Philadelphia Eagles to the promised land of the Lombardi Trophy, crazed Eagle fans will be wearing dog chains and noses while calling themselves the Philadelphia Beagles.

If Vick takes them all the way down that golden ring road, past the point where Roman Gabriel, Ron Jaworski, Randall Cunningham, or Donovan McNabb flew the Birds, and wins the big bowl for the city of Brotherly Love, rabid Eagle fans will adore him.

Shepherd pies will take on a whole new meaning as the Linc's parking lot will be filled with the aroma of baking beagles and roasting rottweilers.

Spitz on a spit anyone? 

Poodle pie?

Some pregame ghastly, ghoulish, golden retriever goulash any one?

It's that kind of town.

It's the City of Brotherly Love, not the city of puppy love.

Life is cheap at the Linc, just ask the shade of the fan viciously stomped to death outside a Phillies game.

And it was worse at Veterans Stadium.

The upper deck of the vet was filled feral fans overflowing with beer and longing for their weekly dose of the old ultra violence. 

For the sake of America's children during Christmas time, the media never showed what really happened to Santa in the Upper Decks of the old vet.

Sure, they showed the sad Santa snowball shower, but they didn't show the real ugliness. Sobbing Santa, stripped, scalped, and hanging by his beard and boots, tar and feathered, in the upper decks.

That's pure meanness, especially near Christmas time, but it was playoff fever.

That was the reality of the old upper decks.

Philadelphia is Buddy Ryan and body bags. 

It's Ben Franklin's home being threatened with fury and fire by fans angry over the Stamp Act. The Stamp Act was a forefather of the personal seat license scam, but done on a national level.

But how could even the most savage fan want to burn out old Ben the friendly Founding Father who looked like a mixture of happy, long haired version of Buddy Ryan and a smart Samwise the Hobbit.

Only the vicious red coats, an orc, or a sect of Philadelphia sports fans would enjoying hanging a smart happy hobbit like Old Ben Franklin?

Philly fans have no mercy. As Mike Schmidt once said, "If you're associated with the Philadelphia media or town, you look for negatives. I don't know if there's something about their upbringing or they too many hoagies, or too much cream cheese."

The streets, as Mayor Frank Rizzo once said are safe in Philadelphia, it's the people who make them unsafe.

The fans want to win and win badly that's all. They would climb over stacks of dead dogs to get a Super Bowl ring.

The ring, not rover, is their thing.

Eagle quarterback Donovan McNabb, liked but not loved, by many Eagle fans will feel their wrath in his first three turnover game.

Can you hear them...there off in the distance:

"No More Picks! We want Vick!"

Then McNabb's momma will be mad. McNabb will look sad. The offense will be playing bad and Andy Reid will look mad.

It ain't easy being Andy either.

I mean the late defensive whiz Jim Johnson pulled Andy's ample hindquarters out of many a football fire and he's gone and he's not coming back.

Neither are safety Brian Dawkins who be bopped to Denver, CB Lito Shepherd shuffled off to Gotham, and the big middle linebacker Stewart Bradley is down for the year.

Johnson, of course, will be missed most. The defense won't be as good and if the Birds wings are clipped the boo birds will be on the long running Andy and Donovan Show.

Don't ya hear them in the autumnal distance the ugly boos?

Say week seven against the New York Giants new five-man front which will be giving the Eagles offense fits. McNabb, coming off a sub par performance in Washington the week before and with three turnovers already against the Giants will be feeling the heat.

Andy will be sweating.The Brothers Andrews and Peters offensive line show, so very tired in training camp so far, will be struggling with the G Man's blitz. 

And the beer besotted fans will be howling.

"WE WANT VICK!" "WE WANT VICK!"

The mostly beer drunk of the barbarians will be belittling and battering visiting fans and showering the field with milk-bones.

No peace and love there. It won't be like Woodstock—more like Altamont.

McNabb might be crying to his Momma over his Chunky Soap.

Andy will get that panicked, about to be eaten by a giant sea creature, look of ancient, nameless terror.

The same look of confused fear he sometimes gets during crucial moments in key games when the clock is ticking and a big call is desperately needed.

It's not a good game face, especially in Philly.

Quarterback controversies are always ugly things but Andy's in Philadelphia's will be even more vicious then most.

It's just the nature of the Philadelphia sports fan beast.

"We Want Vick!" While the fans woof woof woof to who let the dogs out.

Be careful what you ask for  you just might get it...and Andy picked Vick.

And how did Squeaky Fromme do in her 40? Maybe she can plug that nickel hole Lito left.