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| Fritter and Waste |
Outside of my home today, it was 74 degrees at 2:45pm. The sun was out, the humidity was low, and the recent cold snap has taken some of the zest out of this year's rampant mosquito population. As I looked down at my 5-month old puppy, he looked back at me, and pulled me towards the ball box. Come on, Dad. It's beautiful outside. Let's play.
Instead, I did what I've done for the past 38 years. I went back inside and watched the Eagles game.
My puppy doesn't know, of course, that days like this are very finite on the East Coast, and in a month or two, it will be cold and miserable with limited hours of sunlight. I won't want to be outside, and he won't want to be, either. He's a smart dog. And he's also smart enough to eventually just find the kids, and play with them.
Since, well, I will be watching the Eagles.
But let's get away from the dog. As I looked down at my computer and the live blog on the game, I saw the work that needs to be completed this week. We'll start with the preparation for the NBA fantasy draft that will happen on Saturday morning. That will happen about nine hours after the Friday night home poker game completes, which means that I'm going to be pretty much pulling an all-nighter this weekend. I will also be out late tomorrow night as I take my eldest daughter to her first concert (Fiona Apple, in Red Bank, NJ, about an hour away from my home). And today was the day after seven hours of driving, after eight hours in an amusement park with the kids.
So, instead of taking a nap, or doing the yard work, or prepping for the draft, or spending time with the kids, or winterizing the house, or a thousand other things that bore some measure of utility...
I watched the Eagles.
And, well, this would be true and wrong and vicey even if they weren't a terrible team, which, of course, they are. But since they are a terrible team, it's especially infuriating.
The other day, I was walking through a sports apparel place, thinking about updating my Donovan McNabb jersey. The options weren't palatable -- I really can't see Michael Vick or Nnamdi Asomugha here for more than a few years at best, and just don't feel that matched to Shady McCoy or DeSean Jackson. And if I had to have one, maybe Mychal Kendricks or Nate Allen could work out. It's also, well, a silly purchase and an expensive one. But more importantly, it's worse money after bad, doubling down on the crap bet, the move that can't possibly make me feel good about it later.
Because there will be ten -- no more, trust me, no more -- Eagles games left in 2012.
They will be maddening, erratic, pointless and dispiriting. They will be marked by wasted efforts, poor timeout management, critical lapses in ball security, and offensive line play that will cap their potential even when they play a clean game.
I'll watch, because after 35+ years of this, I can't not watch.
But I'm not going to care that much. Because I really didn't care when they blew the game today, and didn't even really care that much when these all happened in 2011.
You see, I'm in the worst possible stage of fandom, the one where your team can no longer disappoint you, because you are just too disappointed in yourself for watching them in the first place.
Now, there are many out there in Eagles Nation that are just waiting for the end of the Vick Era, and think that this whole thing will be better when he's gone. I get that, especially when the turnovers mount and the timeouts are wasted and the disaster plays and inexcusable throws outnumber the Wow Artist moments by an ever-increasing ratio.
But I think it goes a long way past the current eminently disposable QB, and more to the man who brought him here, Coach For Life Andy Reid.
And seeing how I've thought this for many, many years now, and I'm really not alone in that process, I'm left with the following idea...
It goes beyond Reid, too.
No, it's really up to Jeff Lurie, the owner of this team, the man who has been so eager to be the Patriots for so long that he's never come to the grips with the idea that being the Patriots means having a guy who is as smart, as demanding, as innovative and as relentless as Bill Belichick...
When, in fact, he's got a morbidly obese enabling sack of goo who coddles his stars, coaches, media and, yes, his owner, in an ever-growing pile of insincere excuses and willingness to take The Blame.
Jeff Lurie is what's wrong with this franchise, because Jeff Lurie is the man who has employed Andy Reid for this long.
And people like me, and quite possibly you, who watch this team whether they deserve our time or not, enable Jeff Lurie.
So I pretty much hate myself for watching the Eagles now, and pretty much hate them, and then go back to hating myself for caring enough to hate them.
It's a fun place to be. A really great choice for your fall Sundays.
And why, I suspect, people who are smart, and my age, eventually learn to stop caring very much about sports at all, or lose their team allegiances entirely.
(Why, yes, I did have Mikel LeShoure, the Lions' RB, on my fantasy team today. And was pretty much OK with him scoring a touchdown.)
So... I'm going to enjoy the bye week, folks. After all...
It's the only week of the year in which you don't feel like a world-class moron... to be an Eagles Fan.
And the only week of the year in which this little ditty isn't the soundtrack as you think all of these thoughts...
