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Why I Cheered for the Eagles

I lived in Boston for six years, then in the suburbs for another six, and I used to love the Patriots. (Still love Bill Belichick; man knows the proper way to make PB&J. I don’t love raisin bread or crunchy peanut butter, but he’s 100% right about making a pocket of peanut butter for the jelly.) So why was I hoping for the Panthers to win, and when that didn’t happen, for the Eagles to best the Pats?

Well, it seemed to me that with every win, Tom Brady [and many of the team’s fans] became increasingly arrogant and smug and insufferable. And that felt like bad sportsmanship.

This isn’t sour grapes. I liked the team. But the more they won, the less likable they became.

We moved to California, and I quit watching football as much. I think I would have watched more if I could have formed a connection with a team here, or if the team I’d left behind hadn’t left a bitter taste in my mouth.

That said, if the Pats—and Brady—could show a little humility, and if their fans could stop with the “they hate us cuz they ain’t us,” that would go a long way to winning me back. (Not that they care whether I like them or not.)

As for Bill, I’d cheer for any team he coached. Except, at the moment, this one.



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