I’m dying right now. DYING. Six hours to go until the Super Bowl LII and I can’t concentrate on anything else. Sure I took my kid for a walk this morning, but I was obsessively checking twitter for Eagles updates as he silently judged me from the stroller for my shoddy parenting. Kid, I know, believe me….but give me one day of being an absentee father, it’s been 13 years since the Eagles were in the Super Bowl and I’m a little fucking distracted.
I can’t stop looking at the torn Eagles poster from the Inquirer we haphazardly put in our window before the playoff run. It has seen better days, especially considering my kid wants to play with it every second (and by play, I mean fling it over his head and stomp on it until he gets bored).
I tried to recall exactly what it was I was doing back in 2005 in the hours leading up to the game. I was a senior at SUNY Binghamton and I made the three-hour drive to come back home and watch it at my buddy Kevin’s apartment in Queen Village. I 100% was not going to watch it with my jackass college friends (all Giants fans) who would have been giving each other silent smirks as I melted down into a pool of blind rage throughout the second half.