An Eagles Super Bowl Poem by Vince Davenport
An Eagles Super Bowl Poem by Vince Davenport
by Vince Davenport
Even though the title on the column will be by Brian Coll, this is by Vince Davenport and I’m sure he’d love to hear a few good comments on our Facebook page. Fly Eagles Fly!!!!
It’s for this very reason, as unpredictable and perhaps unprecedented as it may be, that you were weary in making those distant plans. In August, September, or October when you were brainstorming dates to have the baby shower, birthday party, or christening, you checked the calendar first, “How’s February 4th?” you said to yourself. “Ahh, Super Bowl Weekend, we can’t do it then”. Any arrangements you made or planned to make were aborted immediately, with no deliberation. The vacation has been postponed a month. The retirement party scheduled for the following week.
Like most Eagles seasons, it seemed like a pipe dream then. But maybe this year would be different you told yourself. Perhaps they can get over the hump this time. If they did you wouldn’t miss that game for anything. So you rearranged and modified your plans, just to be safe. That tiny glimmer of hope from deep inside of your mind gave you the wherewithal to not schedule anything on Super Bowl Sunday. You let your thoughts wander for a moment, thinking of what it would be like to watch the Eagles play in the biggest sporting event of the year. The nations attention now dialed in to your favorite team. Sure, they’ve broken your heart before, but that doesn’t stop you from dreaming or keeping that day free of obligations, just in case.
It was a good decision that has paid dividends, because they’ve done it. The Philadelphia Eagles are playing in the Super Bowl! Finally, those preconceived notions, deep-seated from a lifelong belief in the team that you and your family have adored for generations have materialized. Those late-summer fantasies have now manifested into reality. You’ll be celebrating tackles and touchdowns instead of singing happy birthday and giving anniversary well-wishes. Of course those milestones are fun to celebrate the other forty-eight weekends of the year, but not in the playoffs, and certainly not when your team is playing in the biggest game of them all.
The game may seem a long ways off at the moment, but it will be here before you know it. You’re going to wake up on morning of February 4th with caterpillars creeping around inside of your elbows and knees as they attempt to make their way to your stomach. Once inside, they will become beautiful, albeit very clumsy butterflies. They begin to crash and collide into the lining of your stomach when provoked by thoughts of the Eagles game that is fast approaching and will be here shortly. It sends a tickle up passed the lungs and then into the esophagus, before passing through the mouth where it eventually emerges as a gasp. You’ll drink your coffee and try to force down breakfast, insides tied in knots. Then you’ll do some cleaning to pass the time.
You can hear the national pre-game stooges on the T.V. in the background, all of them picking the other guys. Good, that’s just how you like it. You would prefer to set yourself to idle-mode until the game begins, but the nerves keep your mind racing. Game scenarios encompassing all available thoughts. In your mind the Eagles have won and lost the game in every imaginable way. Not one sequence of events overlooked. You check the time.
It’s just after noon and lunch is ready, but you can’t eat much because you’re really feeling it now, the apprehension and anxiety are kicking in full force. You don’t know if you want time to slow down or speed up. The thought of the game beginning makes you feel uneasy on one hand and delighted on the other. The guests will be here soon and you assume that their arrival will stop the constant nervous versus confidence tug-of-war battle that has been going on in your mind since your eyes opened this morning. You check the time.
When your company arrives you exchange disingenuous greetings and pleasantries with them, not paying nearly as much attention to their responses as you should. However, it isn’t because you don’t enjoy their company. In most other circumstances and on almost all other occasions you actually prefer it. It’s because you’re imagining every conceivable way this game is going to play out both good and bad. Your awkward greeting is nothing a few Eagles touchdown high-fives can’t fix. Worry about it later. “The dip is ready” you say, in an effort to hasten them into a different direction, hoping to not sound rude. You check the time.
You hear more background noise, it’s Michael Barkann, Ray Diddinger, and Seth Joyner making their picks. They all pick the birds. You pick them as well. Confidence triumphs over nerves once and for all. It’s almost game time. Find your seat, grab your lucky football, set the volume to 43. They always win when it’s on 43. Your palms are damp and your heart is beating powerfully, feels like it is going to jump out of your body. No time to worry about that now, the game is starting. The time has come.
Flip to the network. Introduction, player entrance, team highlights, fireworks, coin flip, national anthem. Deep breath, it’s beginning. The dreams and aspirations begin to secede. Reality will soon anchor itself into place. At long last, the teams line up to kickoff. You’ve been waiting for this moment since August. Since 2005. Since 1980. Boom. The ball flies through the air.
Thanks for thinking of us Vince and sending this our way. Fly Eagles Fly!!!!!!