The Emo Eagles Are Still Coming to Grips

05.26.09 8 years ago 24 Comments

Song: “I Caught Myself” — Paramore
Mood: Wistful for an era long before I was born

It’s been a while since I last committed feelings to web page but, if there has been a lapse in time, it was caused the heavy stock taking of anguish that occurred in the wake of Brian Dawkins departure from the Iggles. In the long sleepless nights since, if I’ve even been able to manifest feelings into words, they connect awkwardly (and I know of awkward connections) in broken sentences shot through with emotion and punctuated by longing. And possibly an ellipsis.

In lieu of writing, I’ve tried my hand at a number of coping mechanisms.

I pick petals, alternating between “yes” and “no”. If the last petal is yes, Dawkins will be back before Week 1.

I take free throws at the basketball hoop in the driveway. If I make three in a row, he’ll be back before training camp. I abandoned this tactic early.

If I can guess the next song on the radio, Dawk will be released by Denver next week. And I did it. So what if Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours” comes on every third song. It still counts. So you owe me God.

The Wolverine movie only reminds us of our Weapon X, so we have committed to protest.

I even stopped being depressed that Samatha blocked me on Gchat because I spelled out the name of her Philly message board screen name (4lorn) by chemically killing the grass on her lawn.

Anyway, since the unspeakable happened, there has been the appearance of the team moving forward. The Eagles as a whole seem to be improved, added as they have a Pro Bowl left tackle and talented rookies at receiver and running back, but the mind inevitably comes back to the Dawk. But it’s like when your mother leaves your dad and you have to live with them because the court determined your real dad to be unfit. Yeah, the guy has a job, doesn’t refer to you only as “Kid” and buys you the dirt bike you really wanted when you were 12 but don’t really care about anymore but your mom knows it broke your heart when you didn’t get it at the time so she told the new guy it would be a big gesture to win you over so he did it anyway. You got the clean dad and the dirt bike, but it’s not quite the same. So I guess what I’m saying is I wish Brian Dawkins were my dad.

I suppose it’s bearable for now. The Flyers playoff defeat was predictable enough not to be too disappointing. The Fightin’s are in first, still defending champs. So that’s good. And the NFL regular season is far enough off that the specter of seeing my Daddy Dawk in an opposing uniform is an abstract horror. There may not be a copism mechanism outside of the medicine cabinet if that comes to pass.

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