On July 24th, something quite special and rare will happen in Philadelphia. No, Ben Simmons won’t attempt a three. No, the Sixers won’t make the Eastern Conference Finals. No, the Phils won’t take disciplined at-bats in the post-season and no, a Cowboys fan won’t be able to walk through Fishtown in a Micah Parsons jersey without getting the maloiks from a 90-year-old Italian lady in a Reggie White hoodie.
What will happen?
The Mann Center will host a classy, symphonic, picnic-packed celebration of the Philadelphia Eagles’ 2024 Super Bowl season. “That Chamionship Season” will be presented on three giant screens showing NFL Films’ cinematic highlights accompanied by the Philadelphia Orchestra performing the soundtrack live. Merrill Reese will be narrating and Swoop will be doing bird things.
Yes, this is really happening and it tells you everything you need to know about where this city is right now. Philly isn’t just enjoying the ride, it’s starting to believe it deserves to be here.
That might sound subtle, but it’s seismic in a town built on heartbreak, bad beats, and generational scars. The Eagles are good, really good. They’re young, stacked, well-coached and poised and unless something goes wildly off-script, they’re not going anywhere. Which raises a strange question for a fanbase famous for its misery – can we handle success?
Bonded by Baggage
Winning is a bonding exerience. But so is losing and let’s face it no city does pain like we do. It’s practically our love language. We bonded over Joe Carter, Joe Jurevicius and hammer curls in T.O’s driveway. We booed Santa because we were winning, threw duracell’s at J.D. Drew, and we still act like the Flyers won a Cup last week even though disco was in its embryonic stage the last time they did.
Pain has become our comfort zone. Missed field goals, bobbled holds and vomiting in the huddle. The tortuous gut-punch of Kawhi’s quadruple bounce, Patrick Kane’s disappearing Cup winner and Rod Martin’s pick-hat trick. The writhing suffering of Black Friday, Leon Stickle and 1964. The unconscionable affliction of Jalen Reagor, Roy Hinson and Leroy Keyes. And the seemingly endless torment of the Flyers and Sixers getting bageled in their last seven championship finals appearances combined. It’s been an agonizing lifetime of “what ifs.”
But it’s why we’re tight-knit group. It’s why every Eagles’ playoff run feels like a street fight with your cousins. It’s not just football, it’s family counseling and if you want therapy there’s 100,000 watts of it 24/7 within and beyond the city limits. Just turn your dial and let the healing begin.
But that dynamic has shifted recently, not with just the recent success of the local 22, but rather the sheer domination they showed with their latest and finest achievement to date.
The Eagles are now the bad boys of the NFL. They’re an embarrassment of riches who are so talented they have the commissioner trying to change the rules. They’re a team whose now expected to make deep playoff runs. Jalen Hurts is a franchise quarterback who doesn’t flinch when staring down Patrick Mahomes like everybody else does. Howie Roseman is playing front office chess while other GMs are still trying to master Hungy Hungry Hippos. The 2024 Super Bowl wasn’t a fluke, it felt like the beginning of something very new around here.
And the Mann Center event reflects that. It’s a celebration, yes. But it’s also a test. Are we really ready to let go of our old identity?
Boston did it. Between 2001 and 2021, the Patriots, Red Sox, Celtics, and Bruins combined for 12 titles. A town once known for Buckner, Bledsoe and the curse of the Bambino turned heartbreak into a dynasty machine and they never looked back.
Can Philadelphia handle that? Do we even want to?
Can We Live Without the Chip?
How will we function without the “humangous big” chip on our collective shoulders? Will we still be connected by Mitch Williams, Ronde Barber and Wally Henry? Will we still wax pathetic over the Process turning into a Ponzi scheme and Dry Island winning multiple Cups in L.A?
The Eagles finally won it all in 2017 and the city lost its mind. Greased poles, parade confetti, and the team’s Center dressing like a Mummer and screaming like Braveheart. It was chaos. Beautiful, cathartic chaos.
But this? This is… “Yeah, we know. We’re IT and that’s that.” What are we supposed to do with that?
The scary thing is the Eagles might actually be building a dynasty. No asterisks. No miracles. Just a stacked roster, elite quarterback, loaded trenches, and a pipeline of young talent.
So here we are. A concert. A celebration. A cooler full of WaWa hoagies and lawn full of people in Hurts and Dawkins jerseys pretending not to cry during the slow-mo Super Bowl montage. It’s class personified, but it’s still us with a lot of heart.
But don’t worry. You’ll still hear someone yell “Dallas sucks!” between violin solos. Someone will get kicked out for picking a fight with a Devils fan, and the second they show Nick Sirianni screaming into a camera someone will undoubtedly yell, “YOU SUCK SIRIANNI! RUN THE BALL.”
Some things will never change in the land of Philly-Philly, even when everrything else has.
