The score was 15-10, and the clock was not moving fast enough.
It was cold but not as cold as the meaningless New Year’s Eve game against Dallas. Maybe anxiety generates heat.
But, funny how it started feeling colder and colder as the Atlanta Falcons were driving for the winning touchdown that would, unsurprisingly, end a promising Eagles season. Helpless inevitability was sucking the life force out of everyone in the stadium who was wearing green.
The Atlanta Falcons were on the two with four seconds left and every adult Eagles fan in the Delaware Valley knew what was going to happen. Hell, we knew what was going to happen the minute we learned Carson Wentz was out for the year.
The fans had been doing their part during the drive. (So, the Linc can be as loud as the Vet was!) I, literally, could only half-hear my son, who was standing next to me. The fans had actually been up for the whole game, literally. Everyone stood for the four quarters.
But it wasn’t helping. A couple of plays ago, we could not stop the Falcons on fourth-and-seven. How were we going to stop them at the two?
The only sane question really remaining was: Did we have enough time to get into field goal range?
So, the Falcons broke the huddle; the fans are screaming; some could not look at the field and opted to watch the video board. Some could watch neither. Some grabbed on to the person next to them.
When Matt Ryan rolled out, I thought, “I hate this play when the Eagles run it.” It cuts the field in half. And usually a successful goal line play is done quickly, but Ryan was still looking, looking, looking (Oh God, don’t let him run into the end zone) and running out of sideline.
Get him!
Finally the pass.
Incomplete.
Then we all did what Philadelphia fans know to do: look for the flag.
But there was no penalty! High fives everywhere! Some people literally had tears in their eyes.
All we had to do was run out the clock!
Except we handed the ball off at the two-yard line. Are you crazy? We all know it’s only a matter of time before we get paid back for the three Miracles of the Meadowlands.
But it worked out, and we staved off heartache for another week.
Now it is Minnesota’s turn to play the villain and fulfill the Philadelphia Penchant for Psychic Pain. This week, it is the Norse gods playing with us, getting our hopes up. Right?
But we have already dodged a bullet. If the Vikings miracle win over New Orleans had happened against the Eagles, the collective depression around here would have been physically visible for months.
Saints fans: Welcome to our world!
The Q-View 