Bird Gang Love Philly Style from London

My love letter to the city of Philadelphia and the Philadelphia Eagles

ed note: I pitched this to The Athletic and considered sending to Modern Love, but most of the world is probably sick of us by now, but here’s another ode to the Birds.

Being a Philly sports fan is 30% of my personality. And as someone who has lived in London for the last 23 years, it is a much more unique and defining characteristic here than back at home where “Go Birds” is a generally accepted form of salutation and a given that you are born into. Bird Gang in London means the status of being the locals table at Passyunk Avenue (the Philly bars in London) and having a framed picture of my late dog McNulty behind the bar. We are the lunatics that never miss a game and have suffered through decades of losing would have, could have, should have been a contender seasons.

An ex joked about the three way relationship between me, him and Philly sports teams. That might have been because on the first night he stayed at mine, I watched the Eagles from 1 am till 5 am hoping he wouldn’t really notice the yelps from the living room.

A week ago Sunday, my Eagles dominated the Kansas City Chiefs to win the second Super Bowl victory in my lifetime. My social feeds for the last nine days have been the most wholesome, joyous, hilarious and wonderful combination of ridiculous celebrations and unadulterated fun by people that I believe would have Sunday spaghetti at my mother’s table- regardless of the fact that my mom is no longer with us and I haven’t lived in Philly since 1995.

It’s hard to articulate the way Philly fans exist through their teams, but The Substance might be the closest way to describe the impact and embodiment of our collective obsession. But from all accounts, Philly is built differently. Visiting athletes describe it as the worst place to play with the most awful fans. It’s a reputation we wear with pride. As Jason Kelce sang “we’re from Philly, Fucking Philly, no one likes us we don’t care.”

It’s as impossible to explain what Philly fandom is to an outsider who doesn’t engage or believe in sports. Almost as impossible as the local news anchors bleeping out parade coverage last week as F bombs dropped with every other word.

As Eagles fan, our deeply held belief is that we are actually part of the team. How the Eagles are doing dictates our moods every autumn. My hypothesis is that in a working class rough and frequently violent city, our relationship with our sports teams and the athletes on those teams is the one thing that supersedes everything else and gives us collective hope. If you are really ours; we can give you the toughest (and most abusive) feedback– but as soon as someone outside the city/family does it, we will go to bat for you and protect you to the death.

It is not a relationship of fans that observe games from the stands or sidelines. We are on the field and a key component of the team. I can’t even imagine how many Jalen, Saquons, Coop, and AJ babies will be playing pee wee football in Philly in 7 years time. The reason Jason Kelce and Fletcher Cox and Brandon Graham were lifers is it would feel like infidelity to be anywhere else and once fully indoctrinated into the Eagles family it is inescapable. A few things are sacred— hating the Cowboys, reminiscing about the Philly Philly Special and being furious at the refereeing in 2022 and the disrespect to Jalen Hurts.

As an organisation we have a massive chip on our shoulder that you cannot understand if you are not part of the bird gang. What is the point of winning if your city doesn’t grease the light poles? Our fans are ridiculous, hilarious and aggressive. No one can ever accuse Birds fans of being indifferent and this win validates our skill and spirit over every slight, every hater, every insult, and every painful loss we have ever endured.

And we won in spectacular fashion. Watching this team with tears running down their faces collectively show the world what they were capable of was a religious experience.

And to do it together in front of a President whose White House they didn’t visit previously and won’t visit again is Philadelphia through and through. Having each others backs. I have never known the back story of so many players or cared so much.

The entire city coming out to thank them is a glorious privilege.

Watching my guys cry and be showered in confetti feels like my family won an Olympic medal. I once had a friend reference how I spoke of my oldest and dearest friends as My Megan, My Christie, My Nicole and when did people I didn’t grow up with elevate to that elite ‘My’ status which was synonymous with being my chosen family. And that’s how I feel about this team. They are mine and are the most brilliant representation of me as a Philadelphian.

And I am clearly not the only one. In a city of 1.5 million people, 1.2 million attended the victory parade on Friday. Schools and businesses closed. Kevin Hart paid to make the public transport free. Philadelphians are fans first and everything else becomes secondary. In a polarised world, the common factor and joy and hope is what this team has collectively given us.

And in being honest about how hard they fought for it, from Jalen having his screensaver be the Chiefs loss to not going to the Rocky steps until he brought it home to the city. And that is the crux of it. They belong to Philly and are part of our families. I know we are obsessive wild fans and that most cities don’t include blessings about football in homilies and grace before mass- but the community and kindness this has given us was extraordinary and although I obviously hope we win for the rest of my life- but this one will always stand out.

And that joy was not only felt by the players, but we watched their awe and glory and love for eachother and us. I know that lots has been written about parasocial relationships where you believe you have a bond with a celebrity that does not know you exist; but that isn’t how I see the Philadelphian fan relationship with our players, coaches, managers and other fans.

Take It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Abbot Elementary which perfectly characterises the reality of being a Philly fan who might run into players down the Shore (New Jersey for those unaware) or in Wawa– our all in one gas station, deli and general store. There isn’t the buffer of celebrity or elite snobbiness that doesn’t think that the players breathe the same air as you do. Yes, we adore and watch and critique every play and move and are loudly appreciative and loudly critical of every move they make. But the ownership and the loyalty is built into us when there isn’t a lot of other hope out there right now.

I’m not sure if it is the access to the team or the humanity, whether it be the Eagles Autism foundation, or Thanksgiving turkey drives or our team’s commitment to making sure every kid in Philly has a christmas present; or how much time our birds spend at Children’s Hospital, but every member of this team are part of my extended family and like family we fight and don’t speak and tell off the coach regularly, but their wives and kids are an integral part of the organisation and my world as a Philadelphian. They are the best representation of us.

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When there was a shooting at Roxborough High a couple of years ago, where my best friend is a vice principal, our coach Sirianni wore an Rox High shirt at the press conference that weekend. That was support and solidarity with students and families rocked by the violence.

Later Sirianni’s young daughter sat in his lap mocked his voice and how boring she finds the post game conferences. It was adorable and we celebrate the antics around the game the way we would shout down a cousin and make fun of them. Our love is tough love. The connection to the city is not a free agent who is biding their time in a comparatively small city. We aren’t fans that chase glory, we are a fan base that chides and lambasts our players into playing harder than they have ever played. And celebrate them when they are the players we know they can be.

When we won the Super Bowl in 2018 it was a miracle run with our back up QB against Tom Brady. Our first ever Super Bowl was not something I expected to see in my lifetime and it was glorious, but this one hits differently and deeper for me. This one is getting the respect we deserve and not a fluke. That might be because this time around I am sober and pay a lot more attention, but this time I cried watching the players celebrate on the bus and being part of the masses celebrating. Watching them get their flowers, especially Saquon and snow ball and backwards hurdles and making every Penn Stater proud has been glorious and he is such an exemplary leader and we get to claim him. And watch his little girl witness her father’s humanity and love and kindness.

Saquon’s humility and drive has been constant. It inspires me and invigorates me and makes me so proud to be a Penn Stater and a Philadelphian.

Maybe it is because America seems so polarised and scary and joyless currently that this has season and team has been the needed antidote. The dystopian news reports are countered by watching Zach Baun have the season of a lifetime and have his baby on the field, then watching Lane Johnson’s partner share her fertility journey and how hard it was thinking that moment would never come to fruition. This team is so human and fought so hard for this. Watching Jalen and Saquon’s fiancees celebrate knowing that the joy and pain we watch from afar is nothing like the sacrifices they have made for this team and city.

I’m a Penn Stater and run the London Alumni Group so my Saturdays are Penn State and my Sundays are the Eagles. No game starts prior to 5 pm and they often start at 1 am. Having Dotson and then Saquon Barkley join the Birds made my heart absolutely sing because Barkley represents everything I love about Penn State and football. I hated the Giants but would cheer for him to do well and stay healthy. Knowing the rumours of his kindness and humility to servers in State College and other students made me proud. Watching the way he speaks to and about his daughter reminds me of hearing Jason Kelce talk about his daughters and women. Hearing his remarks about Taylor Swift reinforce my respect for him. Watching Saquon experience personal glory but the greater goal being the priority was incredible and watching him elevating the rest of the team made it special and memorable.

Witnessing Saquon being the role model, the leader, the friend and the incredible athlete and man that he is was glorious. Watching him be the partner and dad that is getting the credit he deserves for it is a beautiful thing. But maybe one of my favourite moments of the season was Barkley watching Shipley score his first touchdown when Barkley had finished playing. Celebrating his second string replacement’s first NFL touchdown and racing down the sideline to freak out and show genuine love and joy during that moment was what I didn’t know I needed.

That’s the thing, this team have been through loss and injury and pain and being disrespected and doubted and they are the best example ever of Brotherly Love. AJ Brown discussing suicidal thoughts and mental health and demonstrating centering yourself on the sideline reading Inner Excellence. That will save boys lives. The vulnerability and honesty about failure and despair and collectively bouncing back is important to see. I know life isn’t just about football, but I needed a reason to still love where I am from.

We can doubt ourselves, we can drop passes, we can lose close games and we can fight and criticise issues and each other and come back and be champions. Watching them play is a beautiful dance. Watching AJ Brown launch a backup QBs first TD ball in to the crowd and get it back is just brilliant. It is about kindness and celebration and actually playing and enjoying a game and what the game and their actions has meant to our city and our lives.

As fans, we have watched a huge fan Gillie the King invent a dance, anoint our theme song and not only introduce the team on a global audience but be in the middle of the locker room celebrating and crying and experiencing the highest of highs with the team. Gillie is all of us, and central to this team becoming champions. Core to the championship.

I know it is easy to celebrate when you win; but we needed something to unify a fractured and polarised landscape and we all bleed green. And to watch thousands of incidents of fans unabashedly celebrating and partying has deeply reminded me of what Philly means to me. And made me incredibly homesick. The team’s confidence and fight and audacity is what I learned being from Philly.

I can always fight back and accomplish the impossible. That the only way I fail is giving up and quitting. My core is and will always be Philly, with the violent undertones, with the cockiness, with the absolute loyalty and with the moral compass that the good guy will come out on top at the end. You can kick us as much as you dare but we will end on top. Even from 3500 miles away in the middle of the night with my dog in a Birds jersey; I am in the bosom of this team. I am them and they are me. The best and the worst parts and a core part of how I see myself and everything I do.

The Eagles are every time I have failed, everytime it didn’t go my way, every time I let myself down and every time I was not on the top of my game and did not maximise my potential showing me that dedication, fight, loyalty and anger can get turned around and collectively I can lean on others to help me win.

You know that the men on that team would take a bullet for each other and for me. They are forever linked to my Philly, they can leave like Wentz and Foles, but they are still and will always be Philly. They get the wordless nod and the respect and are Birds regardless of the uniform they are now wearing. They know who Big Dom is. They will berate and take down anyone that comes into our house and talks trash; and next year we will be back on WIP telling Sirianni to run the ball and shave his head and questioning if his glory days are over, but it is all done with the same love we treat a junkie brother that has gone to rehab and is doing their best to come back and win.

We are obnoxious cocky know it alls who deserve everyone else saying we are the worst fans in the world– except to the people that matter the most, our Birds family. Our team. Our guys who put it all out there and fought, who played with broken knees and backs, who came back from a ripped tricep, who kept going despite all the haters. Who did it for us. Who understand what it means to be Philly.

This was fo everyone whose Thanksgiving prayer was to thank the NY Giants for giving us Saquon, everyone who screamed watching Coop pick off Mahomes on his birthday, everyone who will tell their grandkids about the time we stopped a three peat and stomped the Chiefs 40-22. To the actual members of the Eagles families who share them with us, who allow us into every seam of your life and understand what it means to be part of the fabric of Philadelphia. Those of us who watched AJ visit a child out of brain surgery from a plane crash whose first two questions were if his sister was ok and if he had missed the Super Bowl. Thank you for the hope, joy, injuries, despair and dedication you have given to us. It matters. It has been light and community and absolute jubilance in a really difficult time in history.

Thank you for reinforcing what it means to be from Philly and making me so proud to be an Eagles fan for life. Fly Eagles Fly. Go Birds.

E-A-G-L-E-S and thank you for being mine.