The Philadelphia Eagles

It’s time to set the record straight. We Eagles fans did not – repeat, DID NOT – boo Santa Claus.

The guy we booed was a young, 20-something Eagles fan who came to the stadium DRESSED as Santa Claus. Maybe he’d had too much to drink that frozen afternoon in December 1968, or maybe he was just plain nuts. All we know is, it was the day after a blizzard and the Eagles were closing out a horrendous 2-12 season, having blown the #1 draft pick (O. J. Simpson) with a meaningless win the week before. The “official” halftime Santa didn’t even bother to show up. Team officials were desperate – they begged the young fan to run onto the field, wave his arms and yell Ho-Ho-Ho, and like a good soldier he staggered out into the snow and did his best.

Even at that, to say we booed this phony Santa Claus is a vicious half-truth perpetuated by the vindictive, Philadelphia-hating national sports media. Here’s the WHOLE truth – we booed him AND we pelted him with snowballs. It’s what we do to any big blowhard phony who runs onto our football field the day after a snowstorm. Just ask Jimmy Johnson.

Ever since the day back in 1894 when a fire “mysteriously” started in the grandstand during a Phillies game and burned the entire ballpark to the ground, it’s been clear Philadelphia sports fans are a bad bunch you just don’t mess with. And ever since the Eagles came to town back in 1933, the Eagles fans have been the baddest of the bad – and proud of it. No one else even comes close (but give the Cleveland Browns fans credit for trying). Must be something in those cheese steaks. If you go to an Eagles game, arrive early because it could take you half an hour or more to get through security. Even fans as young as 8 are frisked and wanded to ensure they are not carrying a concealed blackjack, Green Beret knife or .45 caliber semiautomatic.

But as ugly as we Eagles fans sometimes get, no fans on the planet are more loyal and more passionate about their team. It’s not just the homemade bed sheet signs on the expressway overpasses and South Philly house fronts, or the standing room tickets at the Linc that go for $400 a pop on StubHub, or the stadium parking lot villages of green-and-white RVs, vans and school buses – it’s those road games in Miami, Jacksonville, New Orleans, Arizona (and just about anywhere else in the United States) where TENS OF THOUSANDS of Eagles fans descend on a town like birds of prey, somehow find a way to obtain game tickets, and drown out the other team’s home crowd with their noise.

EAGLE LEGENDS

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FANS & VANS

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The Birds feel our enthusiasm and match it year in and year out with a roster that’s down and dirty, and has as much heart as any team in football. That’s why we love them, love them, LOVE them – and always will.

SWOOP – The Gold Standard of NFL mascots

Three NFL titles might not be a lot (although only a handful of teams have won more), but in the Eagles’ case “how” matters just as much as “how many”, and the team history proves it. An NFL title in a blinding snowstorm, followed by a second NFL title the following year in a torrential rainstorm. A quarterback virtually blind in one eye. A Hall of Fame running back only able to carry the ball in his right arm. A kicker missing a hand and half his kicking foot. Several coaches missing a brain. A coach accused of paying his players to injure the other team’s kicker. An owner left dead broke after gambling away his entire fortune in Atlantic City. An ex-convict fresh out of Sing Sing lined up on offense. A walk-on bartender at wide receiver. A construction foreman as a back-up tight end in the Super Bowl. A middle linebacker fond of biting caps off beer bottles, eating broken glass and setting himself on fire. Piggy, Popeye, Bucko, Greasy, Lunatic, Polish Rifle, Freak, and of course Concrete Charlie. An actual subterranean courtroom at the Vet where, during games, unruly fans were tried and sentenced by an actual judge. The Suicide Seven. Gang Green. The Dirty Thirty. Wing Bowl. Fog Bowl. The Hit Heard ‘Round the World. The Body Bag Game. The Miracle of the Meadowlands. The Nest of Death. 4th and 26.

No question about it, the Eagles have earned a place on our list of the Seven Wonders of Philadelphia. Santa Claus, on the other hand, has not. We know because we made the list, and we checked it twice. So the next time you’re comin’ to town, fat man, just remember – we’re naughty, not nice. YOU’D better watch out.

Philadelphia Eagles Official Website