Five years ago I decided to start a blog, a hacky Onion ripoff dedicated to nothing but Philadelphia sports and being an absolute piece of garbage on Twitter. It’s been five long years of this HORSESHIT at the Coggin Toboggan and frankly it feels like a prison sentence that just won’t end.
But lucky for you I’ve become accustomed to the inside and there’s no way I’d survive on the outside. I’m stuck in this hell of my own creation and will take it to the grave with me.
Sorry folks, put your aluminum poles away. They’ll be fine in the crawl space, believe me, they have a very high strength to weight ratio after all.
I’m sorry to announce that Festivus is cancelled for the year. Why? Because you can’t celebrate Festivus a day after the Eagles embarrass the Dallas Cowboys on national television for the NFC East crown.
Really, what can we complain about? What grievances could we possibly air, Philadelphia, one day after sending the Cowboys back to the heart of Texas with yet another huge “L” in a big spot with many more questions than answers in their future.
Frat boy and hot take artist Max Kellerman slithered his way into town this morning for a special Philadelphia episode of ESPN’s migraine inducing “First Take.” As was his destiny, Kellerman was lustily booed by well-lubricated fans who used his appearance at Chickie & Pete’s as an excuse to get shit-faced drunk instead of going to work, as is every Philadelphian’s god given right.
At this point you’re not going to read anything new that hasn’t already been said about Kellerman, his inane opinions on Carson Wentz, or the fact that a third-level tier boxing analyst wormed his way onto the national sports opinion stage on the back of Stephen A. Smith’s notoriety.
No. Let’s be much more childish and play Philadelphia’s favorite game, “What does Max Kellerman look like?!?” after the jump!
Looks like we have a real “Replacements” type situation on our hands, as it seems the only members of the Eagles roster who actually want to play out the rest of year are those who languished on the practice squad for the entirety of the year.
Maybe it’s not great for your talent evaluation skills when practice squad players are making more of an impact on offense than most of your high-level draft picks, ehh Howie?
A popular Twitter argument raged on yesterday, and likely will continue to rage on for years after all of us are dead and buried. Is the franchise quarterback Carson Wentz shouldering enough of the blame for yet another Eagles loss? Sure he played a nice game, but when it mattered in the end the team came up short.
Fifty years from now we’ll be hunched over our iPhones, spines crooked with age, shrunken shoulders in our Dawkins jerseys hate-tweeting each other over the perceived or non-perceived slights of Wentz.
We all thought dynasty when Brady’s desperation heave fell to the earth on Feb. 4, 2018, didn’t we? I know I did. I remember touting the Eagles moves that offseason at a two-year-old’s birthday party to my friends, firmly declaring the season would be “a complete disappointment if the Eagles didn’t AT LEAST return to the Super Bowl.”
Well here we are. A season and a half later. Carson Wentz looks more and more like a guy who lucked into 10 amazing MVP-caliber games, got hurt, and then went through his next 21 games as a quarterback lacking health, confidence, weapons….and the elite skill that made him a top-3 quarterback in 2017.
Was that it? Was 2017 the high-water mark and we’ll all just be waiting for that next wave until the seafloor is dry and arid?
Sixers basketballllllllllll is back! We are ROLLING into the 2019-2020 season with a perfect 3-0 slate as your PHILADELPHIA 76ERS look to be legitimate contenders for the NBA crown. The team is prime, the team is young, and the team is hungry for success…which makes this look back into the shitty time capsule of 76ers past all the more pleasing.
The year was 2012. Mark Zumov and Malik Rose were teaching Philadelphia how to love again. The 76ers were fresh off a trade that would SURELY send them hurtling into the stratosphere of the top NBA teams with their acquisition of Andrew Bynum. Bowling jokes were at an all time low in the Delaware Valley.
It’s that time of year again, when a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of an NBA championship and when he desperately represses memories of a mother fucking off-balanced three point shot that bounces on the rim 900 times before elegantly falling through the hoop to mercilessly end all of our hopes and dreams.
Yes, the 76ers are BACK BABY! A slimmed down Joel Embiid! Al Horford using his offensive rebounding prowess for the powers of good and not evil! Awkward photos of Markelle Fultz trying to raise his arms over his head while going down the final drop in Splash Mountain! What a year it’s shaping up to be.
It’s a NEW season and this calls for some BOLD takes, far bolder and newer than last year’s column where I proudly declared Mike Muscala would quickly become a fan favorite in Philadelphia.
So here we go, on the day of the 76ers 2019-2020 season, we have FIFTY BOLD PREDICTIONS for our beloved Sixers:
Well well well, what do we have here. Five games into the season and the Eagles find themselves at 3-2, tied with the rotten Cowboys of Dallas at the top of the NFC East as Dak Prescott threw THREE interceptions against the Packers and couldn’t complete the late comeback.
Not too easy when you’re playing the dregs of the NFL anymore, is it fellas?
Ten sacks. Two defensive touchdowns. Two interceptions. It was a massacre from the jump as Adam Gase couldn’t crazy eye his team to victory and Luke Falk may or may not have shed a few tears at halftime.
Sam Darnold’s spleen definitely let out a sigh of relief that it wasn’t cleared to play in the 31-6 demolition of what could be the worst team in all of football.
On to Minnesota. Random thoughts on the game after the jump:
The Eagles sent the Green Bay faithful packing to their houses made of cheese curds and beer brats with a stunning 34-27 victory that may or may not send old Uncle Coggin to an early grave.
Ten seconds was all it took to completely believe the Eagles were destined to give up yet another fourth quarter victory to SCREAMING at Nigel Bradham to get the fuck down and not fumble the game winning interception as salty Aaron Rodgers looked on in disgust, perhaps thinking back to fonder times when he still spoke to his extended family.
It was a season saver. 2-2, onto the bloated, rotting corpse of the Jets next week, and they’re rolling.
Random game thoughts after the jump: