I know it’s probably not the smartest thing, but I still want the Eagles to win every game.
This morning on the Time’s Yours podcast, Lee Russakoff and I figured the odds of the Eagles actually making the playoffs (based on what they have to do, and what other teams have to do) is about 16%. We made that number up, but it seems about right. Not very likely. But truth be told, I still hold out hope that it can happen.
Try as I might, I cannot watch this team on Sundays and hope that they lose. Tens of people tell me during the week that I should, and that they do, and I just don’t know how that works.
Even though the result may be a better draft pick, and a better likelihood that they add a signifcant piece for next season. Even though the result may be that the front office realizes the err of its ways, and makes the changes necessary to rebuild the team into an actual threat. Even though week after week, I’ve been crushed by brainless, careless play from players I figured were too good for that, I cannot quit cheering.
How does that even work? When the Dolphins blocked that punt, did you go, “YES?” When people said the Sixers should lose last season to get a better draft pick, I just couldn’t understand it. I mean, I could understand why you’d say that, but the mechanics of it all seems so impossible.
During the week, I can understand thinking that way. I can imagine without the energy of the game, sitting back and thinking logically about the whole thing. Realizing that the extraordinary failure that this season has been is a sign that something just isn’t right, and change is necessary. But in the hours leading up to the game, that starts to change. By the time kickoff happens, I’m out for blood. All logic goes out the window. I just want to win.
I know, I know, Andy Reid. I know, I know, gold standard, dream team, all in, run the ball, definition of insanity, blah, blah, blah … I know. No matter how much the underachievement makes me want to bang by head against the wall, or how furstrating the weeks in between the losses have been, I still hold out hope. Hope for the miracle.
The 16% chance that we’ll experience that miracle that gets the Eagles into the playoffs. The even less likely chance that the miracle gives way to a bigger miracle that ends in a parade.
I spend a lot of my life planning. A lot of my time thinking strategically about the future. On Sunday afternoons, I just don’t feel like it. I feel like letting go, cheering for a win and hoping for a miracle.
If you can be patient and logical during a football game, more power to you. Something tells me you’re missing the point though. Something also tells me I’m having more fun than you are.