The Eagle Has Crashed

Philadelphia Eagles

"Fly, Eagles, Fly, On the Road to Vic-tO-ry." Philadelphia Eagles Fight Song

Oops moments can be humiliating. We've all suffered through them, endured the laughter and taunts they elicit. In our house we have a special way of handling what we call the duh factor.

If you trip on the steps, miss your mouth with some food, forget to flush the toilet, slip on the kitchen floor or commit similar embarrassing wipeouts, you say, "Uh, I meant to do that!"

It's a great way to turn a potentially mortifying moment into a self deprecating and face-saving inside joke.

However.

What if you're a top NFL team who went to the 2005 Super Bowl, lost by a heartbreaking 3 points and were supposed to be a major contendah for Super Bowl XXXIX in 2006? Then your QB doesn't deal with an injury soon enough and hasn't got game. Then your leaders pitch a snit and ditch your star receiver for being a loudmouth.

And then. And then. It's almost too painful to say, but here goes. After all that, you're miraculously still in the running, but you blow your last shot at the playoffs with a disastrous 42-Zip loss in front of the whole country on Monday Night Football.

I know it was snowing here in Philly Monday night, but "Uh, I meant to do that" can't begin to cover so stunning a stumble.

The front page of the Phila Inquirer today shouted STONE COLD. Other headlines at Philly.com tell the story, many equally pun-tastic, of the painful drubbing the Eagles took from the Seattle Seahawks.

• Snow daze


• Offense snowed under


• WINTER BLUNDERLAND


• Inept Eagles plowed under


• A pretty city, an 'ugly' team

I'll leave it to the professional sports pundits to review the whys and wherefores of the debacle. For my part, as a fan, I'm flabbergasted and frankly embarrassed for my city's football team.

Professional sports are big business and big entertainment. But they're also a major facet of a team's hometown identity. When a team does well, the city comes alive with excitement and pride. And when they bomb in a really big way, the city feels humiliated too, and dies a little inside.

It shouldn't be that way. But it is.

We--and they--can gather ourselves together and say, "Next year." But I can't bring myself to let these overpaid bruisers off the hook and help salve their egos with, "Uh, I meant to do that."

I don't know about you, but I'm beginning to think maybe the Eagles should move to New Jersey.