Pigskin Zen 1.3.09

In Through the Out Door
by Gary Zeidner

Before the Eagles dropped an old-school kick-in-the-balls loss to the Redskins in Week 16, their destiny was in their own hands. After that clusterfuck – during which the Birds’ D held Washington mostly in check but the Birds’ O could only manage three pitiful points – the Eagles’ postseason possibilities were not only entirely out of their own hands, the odds of them even getting into the postseason were longer than mine of playing the role of Meat in the much-awaited (and fantasized about) Threesome With Rachel Weisz and Samantha Mathis.

Truly, dogs and cats had to sleep together, a Frenchman had to politely give directions to a visiting American in a Bush Rocks! T-shirt and the very planets had to alter their orbits if the Birds were to have any chance of reaching the postseason. Put another way, Tampa Bay had to lose . . . to the Raiders. Then, in addition to the T.B. loss, either Minnesota or Chicago had to lose. Then, on top of all that, the Birds had to beat the Cowgirls who, if they won, would make it into the postseason themselves.

Any Eagles fan will tell you that the vast (not just Pacific Ocean vast, like multiple-parallel-universes-sized vast) majority of time, the whole fucking world is against the Birds. In this case, however, it felt like for the first time in, well, forever, that maybe not the whole fucking world but at least some significant part of the whole fucking world was pulling for Donnie, Andy and the boys.

Sure as a New Year’s Day hangover, Tampa Bay managed to squander a 10-point lead and lose to the Raiders. The Vikings’ last-minute field goal got them a win over the Giants, but da Bears couldn’t sort out the Texans, and like that, the Eagle’s fate was back in their own hands. All that remained was to vanquish the hated Cowgirls, and it was off to the Wild Card round.

Vanquish them we did. Scratch that. We didn’t just vanquish the pack of crybaby criminals, malcontents and cocksuckers that are the Dallas Cowgirls, we knocked their dicks in the dirt, broke their spirit, stole their women, emptied their wallets, salted their lands and burned their homes to the ground! There are few victories sweeter for an Eagles fan than a victory over Dallas, and this 44-6 bukkake-fest all over Homo’s, T.O.’s and Jones’ faces – a victory that knocked them out of the playoffs while simultaneously landing us there – was sweeter than a warm piece of spongy chocolate cake covered in hot fudge and served on Natalie Portman’s pussy.

It’s three games to the Super Bowl. If the Birds play like they did against the Redksins, Minnesota could easily take us out in the Wild Card round. If my beloved Birds play like they did against Dallas, well there isn’t a team in the playoffs that can stop us. Go Donnie and Westy and B-Dawk and Jackson! Go Akers and Runyan and G-Lew! Go Birds!

E-A-G-L-E-S . . . EAGLES!!!