When I tell people I’m from Virginia and follow that up with the fact I’m a HUGE Philadelphia Eagles fan, a perplexed look immediately swoops across their faces.  And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.  Virginia isn’t home to any NFL team and never has been.  Sure, the Washington Redskins are 200 miles north, but being as that’s my dad’s favorite team and I’m the rebellious zealot that I am, I was on the hunt to find MY perfect team.  (The Ravens franchise did not yet exist as they would have possibly been another viable close to home option.
In sixth grade (1991 I believe), Starter jackets were all the rage (it blows my mind these same coveted trends now clutter the clearance racks at TJ Maxx, but I digress), so rationally, like an only child I just had to have one.
For Christmas that year I gave my parents explicit instructions via my wish list.  Explicit as in the written form because my tomboyish little heart just couldn’t take any chances. In very legible hot pink ink, I wrote:
NFL Starter Jacket.  Please.
(I already owned a Charlotte Hornets one solely based on their team colors, so I was ready to pony up for the NFL version.  It also didn’t hurt that Alonzo Mourning went to high school in my hometown so they were an easy team to like.)
My parents, bless their little only-child-bearing-hearts, waited until the last minute to get my beloved jacket.  Lucky for them I hadn’t specified which team I wanted so when they saw that shiny kelly green jacket sitting all alone, they snagged it up. They had no idea at the time what kind of green-bleeding aficionado they were creating in their sweet little daughter.
Christmas morning that year was jubilant.  I got a medium-sized men’s Philadelphia Eagles Starter jacket that was entirely too big as well as a set of Encyclopedia Britannica.  My guess is that one of those door-to-door salesmen had a really good spiel and my mom just couldn’t resist, making me the proud new owner of a brand new set of research books.
I was so excited to go back to my snobby little private school tightly bundled up in my new present, but I was dammed if I was going to let anyone question this newfound, completely out of the blue loyalty I know professed for the Eagles.  I did what any 11-year-old on a religiously extended Christmas break did – I put my encyclopedias to use and brushed up on all things Eagles. Eagles paraphernalia is not all that common in southern Virginia so I had to be ready for the naysayers and spew stats at any given moment to prove my allegiance.
You know in school when you were writing a report on Ulysses S. Grant or someone equally as cool?  The more you read and learned about them, the more you liked them and felt a genuine bond with them?  That’s how I started to feel about the birds. And so my undying, unwavering, unconventional, who cares if my fellow fans hate Santa Claus love for the Philadelphia Eagles began. With a Starter jacket.
And judge me if you will that this is not an acceptable way to find love in a sport’s team.  I’m sure you’re also the guy who loves the Cowboys only because your dad and your grandfather and his father and so on loved them.  Or worse, maybe you’re that girl that loves a team because your boyfriend or husband does.  Way to show everyone your capable of making your own decisions as adults

Posted on January 7, 2011, in The Blonde Side. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: