The following exchange is typical for most Eagles fans. For the sake of saving space, the part of Dopey Cowboys Fan will be referred to as D.C.F’s.
D.C.F: Yo, the Eagles ain’t sh*t! (I don’t know why I took out the “i,” but let’s just pretend I have a tinge of couth and class.)
Eagles Fan: Where are you from?
D.C.F: I grew up in Mayfair.
**And now the conversation SHOULD end. This is a public service announcement for the mass of Eagles fans that know that Cowboys fan that loves to count off Super Bowl wins, pontificate on the presumed awesomeness of Tony Romo, and reminds Eagles fans that somehow “we” are the worst fans and Cowboys fans are the best.
Let me get this straight, Cowboys fan: You’re the example of what a “REAL” fan is and Eagles fans are “fake.” Does your cell phone have a 215, 610, 484, 609, 856, or 302 area code? Do you know how to pronounce Schuylkill? Did you jump up and down when the Phillies won the World Series in 2008? You did? Sit down, shut up and allow me to explain why you’re insignificant.
All Thunder, No Lightning
There’s nothing worse when a thick Philly accent that would do poetic justice to “Da Iggles,” sounds like gargled cat shit when they say, “Da Dallas Cowboys!” (I apologize for using a bad word but I did say earlier in the article to pretend that I had couth and class.)
The same human dingleberries count off Super Bowls but can’t name the starting offensive linemen for those winning Super Bowl teams. You meet an Eagles fan that’s in his sixties and he can still rattle off nearly every player from the 1970’s to the present roster.
Seriously, you blow hard asshammers think that a few knuckleheads on sports talk radio saying the Birds are going to the Super Bowl is enough of a reason for you to respond in equally derelict’ish ways. You could win the NFC East. However, I think you’re gonna struggle a bit along the way. Now, since we’re talking about NOW….hey…pssst…over here…you still with me? As I was saying, your team may struggle. I know losing DeMarco Murray was a kick in the nuts. I know, your offensive line and anyone can run out of the backfield. Wait. Was that anyone or nobody’s? Good luck and tell me more about Michael Irvin ya scumbag turncoat.
Move to Dallas where you’d be King of the Dopes. Sorry, Texas; your state has produced some seriously questionable ass people. Take a gun, shoot it out!
Easy Come, Easy Go
I think many football fans have their “other” team that they hope does well IF the Eagles are out of contention. I think J.J. Watt is an impeccable human being and an even more impressive football player. Do I want the Texans to beat the Eagles in those seasons where they are matched up? Absolutely not!
Therefore, when I meet those “que sera, sera” individuals that talk about how incredible Brian Dawkins was but then lauds the Cowboys for their players and proclaims indifference to both teams, then you are by default a Cowboys fan and your lack of any intestinal fortitude is disconcerting to say the least.
If you ask that question in my presence and then proclaim that the Cowboys are your team, I recognize you as the ultimate scumbag Dallas Cowboy “fan.” You made me use quotes! I only reserve quotes for words I like; however, now I am forced to use them because you, sir or madam, are fugazzi. You should not be allowed to wear a jersey of any team.
You know what? On second thought, keep wearing your Cowboy jerseys. You’re nothing more than the suburban rednecks that descend upon Camden with your shitty Target cowboy hats and your terrible, terrible hammy legs stuffed into cowboy boots that look more Walmart aisle three than they do, ride a horse, chew some tabacca’ and get in a shootout. What’s the terrible concert that they have? Some white guy playing a guitar talkin’ bout lovin, or hatin, or ‘Merica. You’re that person and the only other people who have respect for you are the same shallow gene pool swimming derelicts that do the same thing as you. Hail to those Dallas Cowboys fans, we hate you!
I Married a Cowboys Fan
You’ve terrible decision-making skills and all of your true friends and family have secretly abandoned any hope for you. Looking at the divorce rate in America, there’s still hope that you’ll get it together someday.
“When I was growing up, the Cowboys were always on television. I mean, they’re America’s Team!”
Nope, no, nuh uh, no way, F.O.H., awwww hell naw, sorry! America’s team? How does a city established in 1839 earn such a title when I can think of four distinct cities on the eastern seaboard that, from an importance to America standpoint, crushes the cultural and historical relevance of being “America’s Team.”
When the dullards and troglodytes scurry out from under the shadows that scumbags tend to linger under, they do so while beating their chests and zipping up their ridiculous Starter jackets that make them look more like they are waiting for the school bus than doing anything remotely adult-like.
Twenty-something’ers claiming America’s team? Shut up! You’ve been watching football since there was a yellow line on the television screen indicating the first down marker. Those in their thirties and older that claim “America’s Team” are really saying something far more poignant and frightening:
“I follow America’s team because of several reasons. When I was growing up, football did not have the coverage that it has today. There was no YouTube or ESPN.com for me to go and watch highlights. My only option was, well, a newspaper. That involves reading so you understand I’m pretty much shit-out-of-luck.
My parents were heavy drinkers and I was often left to my own devices. I tried to play football with my friends but when they would all claim a different player from the Eagles, I’d say, “I’m Roger Staubach” and they would all laugh at me and hit me. I developed an inferiority complex that my therapist says stems from Eagles fans making me feel like less of a person because I followed the Cowboys. My therapist, an Eagles fan, told me to stop being such a baby and to pull my head from my ass. That hurt my feelings, too!
I love the Cowboys because they are really good. They do everything bigger in Texas and that includes winning. I also….”
Shut up, shut up, shut up! You hurl excuse upon excuse onto the back of a subject that cannot be debated: You are from Philadelphia and use superfluous reasons explaining why you support a team that is in direct competition with a team from the city that raised you. V-I-O-L-A-T-I-O-N!
The Final Verdict
You grew up here, which means you ARE here. That’s what Philadelphia based Cowboys fans do not get. You have absolutely no merit in your argument. You’re the person that no one truly trusts because loyalty is by far one of your biggest character flaws. You may be the Godparent to your best friends first-born, but I assure you somewhere written in a last will and testament are clearly laid out instructions that preclude you from being around the child during the football season.
You’re traitorous. No, seriously, if you have not picked up on the tone of this article, you’re just not a good person. If you hailed from Dallas, even if you lived there for a few years as a kid, a majority of Philadelphia Eagles fans would respect your loyalty and enjoy the rivalry. When you sat next to the same guys all throughout school, hung out together, shared your lives with each other, you’re still the one guy on the outside no matter how “in” you think you may be.
If I’m out with friends and stuff goes down, I’m not looking to the Cowboys fan to have my back. I don’t care if you’re Connor Barwin’s doppelganger; I still question your character a bit. If you were in the military and someone from the side you were fighting against claimed to have your back, would you want to share a foxhole with them? You have no one to blame but yourself.
Ultimately, the slithering spinelessness of Cowboy worship is like crabgrass. Sure, you treated the lawn, but you’ll be damned if two days later one of the more caustic and belligerent strains of crabgrass does not rear its ugly, misshapen head for the world to see.
Do you get it, Philadelphia based Cowboys fans? You eat soft pretzels, you house cheesteaks by the handful, know every line from every Rocky movie, have the numbers “215” or a liberty bell tattooed somewhere on your body, have referred to Philadelphia as “Illadelphia,” and hang from the jock of Will Smith, Kevin Hart, Jill Scott, the Roots, and/or Bill Cosby. (It’s cool, you can actually have Bill.)
There is a cultural thread woven into the fabric of your character that feels, in some ways, genetic. You adopt teams from other cities and use your geographic birthright to defile what hundreds of thousands of fans live and breathe each day. While your individual character is called into question, the hostility and anger that the rest of us have for you is rooted in tribal like instincts.
You sold the rights to authenticity for the rights to a superficial existence. When the Cowboys won their last Super Bowl, if you were a fan then, got to jump up and down in your living room. All of your friends were jumping up and….wait, no they weren’t, because your friends aren’t scumbags.
It must be hard having to abandon your birthright and continue to defend your decision. Hey, no worries, Scooter; we can just call you Brutus, Judas, Aaron Burr, or Benedict Arnold. It makes no difference to the rest of us because you’re just another lost soul with scumbag tendencies.