I saw footage of McNabb and Vick at pracice together yesterday, and it got me thinking about the last time they shared the field in a meaningful way. It was a freezing night in Philadelphia - just 17 degrees at kickoff with winds gusting through The Link at about 35 mph - and the Eeagles were attempting to do something they hadn't done in three prior consecutive title game appearances.: WIN.
Their Super Bowl aspirations had been cut short by the Rams, the Bucs, and the Panthers, and there was a distinct sense of urgency amongst the Philly Faithful to get over the hump and arrive at the big show before, as the broadcasters would tell you, the window of opportunity closed for good.
And even though we'd said "This is the year!" every other year, the 2004 season was different. It really WAS the year. It all began with the city embracing the arrival of Terrel Owens, the freakishly talented receiver who gave McNabb the offensive weapon he'd been dreaming about for years (no disrespect to Pinkston or Greg Lewis).
The McNabb-Ownes combo was deadly. McNabb zoned on his new favorite target, and T.O. grabbed himself 77 receptions for 1200 yards and 14 TDs. To put it in perspective, between the two of them, they scored more passing TDs than the offenses of the Ravens (13), Giants(12) and Chicago Bears (9).
The Eagles defense, led by Weapon-X Brian Dawkins, was equally nasty. They ranked 2nd in sacks (behind Atlanta), 2nd in points per game, 2nd in total points allowed and 3rd in yards per pass attempt. They were big, fast and the blitzed a lot. And they loved the big hit, like the one Dawk put on Crumpler below. For a better view, go to this VIDEO.
The Eagles cruised the regular season with an impressive 13-3 record. Then they abused the Vikings in the playoffs, bringing us to the NFC Championship Game against the Falcons. The game itself would prove meaningful to me in a number of ways, as I'm sure it did for many Eagles fans all over the Delaware Valley.
My brothers and I had been going to Eagles games with my dad since before Zubaz were popular. He'd load one or two or all three of us into the car, and we'd head down to the Vet and sit up in the nosebleed section to watch our beloved birds - more often than not - get blasted by the visiting team. But we did witness greatness in the individual efforts of Reggie White, Randall Cunningham, Jerome Brown, Seth Joyner and so on. More important than all of that, though, was the fact that football was the medium through which we connected with our father. Some dads take their kids fishing, or they teach them how to play the guitar. Our Dad loved football - specifically the Eagles - so his boys learned to love the gridiron as well.
And it wasn't just the spectacle of going to the game that was significant. We were completely consumed by Eagles football, even when they sucked. Dad would drive me to school in the mornings, and every morning we'd listening to 610 WIP and debate ridiculous topics like whether or not Mike Mamula would ever live up to expectation. We ran routes in the backyard, me playing Keith Jackson to his Randall Cunningham. We'd rush home from my Sunday soccer games to catch the end of the game on the TV, but sometimes we'd just sit in the car and listen to Merril Reese call the game on the radio, because, as Dad would tell you, not every city has someone like Merril Reese in the booth. Have a listen HERE.
And of course when my mom had the tumor in her back that the doctors said she may not survive, Eagles football provided us a necessary escape. We had a tradition of doing "The Freak Out Dance" whenever the Eagles scored. The Freak Out Dance basically consisted of me and my brother throwing our arms around like spastic drug addicts and screaming nonsensical words in a uniquely pre-adolescent tongue. It kind of looked like THIS, but not really. Obviously with Mom being sick and needing rest, we couldn't have full on freak outs whenever Herschel Walker found the end zone, so we had to invent something called "The Silent Dance", whereby we could spaz out appropriately, but not in a way that would wake up Mom. The Silent Dance was born from tough circumstances, but Mom made it through all that, and the Silent Dance is still alive and well, though we only invoke it under special circumstances. If you want an idea of what the Silent Dance looks like, check out this little GARGOYLE CHILD (though again, this isn't a perfect example).
So when the Eagles made it to their 4th consecutive NFC championship game in 2004, Dad wanted us to be there. By that time he was a season ticket holder and had 4 seats, so Dad and I drove down to 30th Street Station and met my older brother and his wife who had come down from NY for the game. The four of us piled into the subway train and arrived at Lincoln Financial Field knowing that this team. . .this year. . .they would WIN.
And they did. I won' recap the whole game, but you can see all the highlights HERE. Make note of how badly the Defense abused Vick, our newest teammate, ha ha.
By the end of the night it was freezing and none of us could feel our toes or our fingertips. I had screamed so much it felt like someone had jammed a glass bottle down my throat and then stomped on it. And we looked like circus freaks, like giant green snowmen - wearing our Eagles jerseys on top of our winter coats (me in McNabb, brother in Akers*, sis-in-law in Westbrook, Dad doesn't believe in jerseys, strangely). So we looked and felt terrible, but there was place any of us would rather have been at that moment, because finally, after years of disappointment, my brother and I were able to high-five our Dad and celebrate an actual NFC Championship. As Byron Evans would say, How 'Bout That!
I'm hoping we can actually get together and celebrate a Super Bowl victory sometime soon, but meanwhile I'll just help my brother teach my Godson/Nephew the Silent Dance so that Dad's greatest football invention gets passed on down through the generations.
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