Editor’s Note: The post you are about to read is pretty personal in nature. It goes into detail about a time period in my life that not a lot of people know about, exploring my love and adoration for Eagles quarterback Nick Foles. Some people will get called out. I debated multiple times whether or not to hit publish but ultimately decided to as I feel this is the platform that gives me the best attempt at communicating my thoughts.

Why Are You Doing This?

It’s the first week of January, a time that is typically reserved for New Years resolutions and positive outlooks in terms of starting fresh, but in order to write this post, I needed to go back to the worst period of my life.

A week from today, the Eagles will be playing in their first playoff game in four seasons where Nick Foles will once again be the starting quarterback.

There will be a full section devoted to the role of social media in this story, but anyone who follows me on any platform knows that I’m a huge fan of the Eagles current starting quarterback, and this is my attempt to explain why. I don’t expect a lot of folks to understand or agree with it, but trying to convey it here is far more comprehensive than a series of tweets or a standalone Facebook post.

Truth be told, this story dates back almost five football season and spans a dark year in my life between May 2013 through August 2014.

A Summer From Hell

The months immediately after college graduation can often be a weird and overwhelming time filled with change and uncertainty. I was someone who had a lot of interesting stuff on my resume but wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to do with it.

I had spent much of my junior and senior year doing a lot of sportswriting, covering Penn State football where I made several memories, met some good friends, formed a few enemies, and broke a couple big stories.

I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything, but during this time, I also saw some things that turned me off from the business. I was burnt out and living an unsustainable lifestyle.

I guess you could say I needed to figure out what I didn’t want to do before I could hone in and identify what I did want, but it came at a price.

That summer, I accepted a job at a local news outlet in State College where I was covering a lot of general news stories. The work environment was toxic, plagued by all of the stereotypical problems media outlets have when people in leadership positions don’t know how to manage others and zero focus is placed on culture.

I took the job with the promise that when football season came around I would be able to cover some stories but soon learned this was an empty promise when I was left off the application for press credentials.

That directly didn’t bother me a ton. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to spend another season covering football, but being berated by my editor on a daily basis had taken its toll.

I like to think I’m generally receptive to feedback, but when you’re 22 years old and being screamed at multiple times a day, you begin to lose your confidence and for better or for worse question a lot of things.

I stayed for another month or so and quit at the end of July. With nothing else immediately lined up, I moved home with my parents.

Falling Into Depression

I don’t know whether or not a licensed medical professional would have diagnosed me with depression. I never bothered to ask, but I knew how I felt when I arrived home.

One of the reasons I hesitated to publish this post is because in the scheme of things, I know I’ve been very lucky in life, and even during this time, there was no death or major tragedy close to me.

I needed to take better care of myself but generally had my physical health, and my parents were willing to support me financially.

Still, I decided to go ahead with it because I’ve learned that you don’t always need an excuse to feel sad. My girlfriend, who works in the mental health field, has taught me this important lesson.

Perspective can always be good, but you don’t need to compare yourself to others. Sometimes it’s okay to just be upset.

I had this grand vision of coming home and spending days applying to a bunch of jobs, but when your confidence is that shaken and you’re out of a routine, it becomes hard.

You don’t want to do anything and while you know why, it’s hard to solve.

At Least I Had The Eagles

I was unemployed and searching for answers that didn’t seem to exist.

When folks are upset, they often reach out to friends or family for support. I don’t turn to people. I look to sports, specifically the Philadelphia Eagles.

The Eagles have always been my baby when it comes to sports teams, but it was during the previous fall where I worried I was losing them.

Not because they were coming off a dismal 4–12 season in 2012 and had just fired their coach of 14 years in Andy Reid, but rather covering Penn State football as a student took all of my time and energy. I was trying to be the best at it.

One thing you’re not always told when you sign up to cover sports is that it can really change you. You become so laser-focused on trying to do the job well that you stop caring about the results.

I felt like I had somewhat lost Penn State, the Phillies, and the Flyers. I’ve gone on to get them largely back, but at the time, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t lose the Eagles no matter what happened.

I re-dedicated myself to getting back to my high school levels of fandom where I knew all of the nuances of every player and component of the franchise. Each morning I would read the now defunct site Birds 247 because I saw the two writers in Sheil Kapadia and Tim McManus as a better version of me.

They gave a damn about their readers and made them feel heard and appreciated, and I was excited as hell for the season.

The funny thing is I didn’t even have particularly high expectations. They were coming off two subar seasons. I expected growing pains and losses, but they had hired the then innovative Chip Kelly, who I remain fond of from afar despite his tenure ultimately not working out.

One of the other reasons I was excited though was due to a promising second year quarterback named Nick Foles.

He had taken his licks as a rookie on a bad team after taking over halfway through the rough 2012 season for Michael Vick, and I was pulling hard for him to beat Vick out in a summer quarterback competition for the starting job.

Debunking A Myth

At the time, it wasn’t uncommon for people on Twitter to suggest that you were racist if you wanted Foles to win the job over Vick.

Donovan McNabb is one of my favorite quarterbacks ever. I own a Steve McNair jersey. One of my best friends during my freshman year of high school was African-American.

I don’t give a damn what color skin a quarterback has as long as he bleeds midnight green, plays the position well, and bonus points if he’s a decent person off the field too.

Vick was no longer a good NFL quarterback, and it pained me to see that Kelly was going to stake his NFL coaching career to someone who had cost other coaches their jobs in the past — The false idea that they were the special one who could coach this non-existent untapped potential in Vick into consistent production and wins.

Sacred Sundays

Days were long and nights were lonely, especially when you go from always being busy and living five minutes away from your closest friends to hardly communicating with anyone outside of your family.

Sundays were my sanctuary, and the Eagles were my religion. People who know me well are aware of my rule and pet peeve:

Unless there is a medical emergency, do not bother me during and Eagles game.

I set the expectation for anyone who asks if they can watch with me that they’re welcome to, but I’m likely not going to talk a ton. I watch intently and have a core 5–6 people who I text. Remaining energy goes to Twitter.

My dad messed with this rule during the fourth game of the season. Foles wasn’t even playing yet, but he walked into my room and realized something was wrong with the chair I was sitting on. I didn’t give a shit. I didn’t even notice. The Eagles were on.

After asking me to stand up and unsuccessfully trying to fix the chair, my dad yelled at me to help him. I stood mostly still, and my mom heard the noise where she inquired as to what was going on.

Typically I try to stay out of family drama, especially during this time in my life, but I told my mom what happened. She had my back.

I felt bad for throwing my dad under the bus, but it was my exact reason for the rule. I don’t care about trivial shit when the Eagles are playing.

Nick Foles Happens

The Eagles started the season 1–3 behind Vick at quarterback. They had a lot of issues, but after largely packing it in and looking disinterested the season prior, you could tell they were trying and on the edge of progress.

Then in the fifth game, Vick hurt his hamstring, and in came Foles. He won the game and then won another to get the Eagles to 3–3.

I was falling in love, and it was only just beginning.

Foles suffered a concussion the following week and missed the one after that as well as the Eagles fell back down to 3–5.

The next game Foles exploded, throwing an NFL record-tying seven touchdown passes. In total, the Eagles won five straight games as Foles accounted for 16 touchdowns and only one interception.

With barely any external expectations a few months prior, the Eagles all of a sudden were 8–5 and contending for the division and a playoff spot.

At no point during this rough year in my life did I ever think about harming myself, and I partly thank Foles for that.

I got to watch him in-person during the second to last game of the regular season. My friend Justin and I would always go to one game a season, and during a terrible few months personally, this night stood out as a bright spot.

It was maybe only topped by the following Sunday night when Foles led the Eagles to a Week 17 win and NFC East title against the rival Cowboys.

The Eagles were flying into the playoffs, and Foles was the face behind the charge.

I was still in a rut, but Foles was my inspiration.

I thought to myself:

If he can throw 27 touchdown passes to only two interceptions and take the Eagles on a magical run, then I can get through last summer

We Were Going To Win The Game

The first playoff game was against the high-powered Saints offense and future Hall of Fame quarterback Drew Brees.

Helluva first assignment for Foles, but that’s why the playoffs are where quarterback legacies are really made.

It’s why Eli Manning is revered in New York despite often being an average to below average quarterback in the regular season, and why Tony Romo never fully was in Dallas. It’s why there’s no debate that Tom Brady is better than Peyton Manning.

The tough thing about this is your first game often plays a big part in the forming of this narrative. Romo actually posted mostly decent numbers in the playoffs overall but because he fumbled a snap in his first start, he was labeled a choker and always fighting to overcome that label.

I didn’t want Foles to suffer the same unfair fate, and while I was of course nervous, I was also confident.

We were going to win the game.

Expecting the Eagles to win four straight games to win the Super Bowl was a stretch. There were holes on the defense, and at some point, they were going to have to go through Seattle, who had an all-time great team.

They could at least win this game though and throw caution to the wind from there.

We were going to win the game.

Things started off pretty slow on both sides but unlike Brees who threw two first half interceptions, Foles didn’t turn the ball over.

Right before halftime, he was able to connect on a touchdown pass as the Eagles went in leading 7–6.

We were going to win the game.

The second half didn’t start so great as the Saints came out hot and the Eagles all of a sudden trailed 20–7. Still, there was a feeling that something good would happen.

The Eagles cut the lead to 20–14 and then 23–17. With eight minutes to go, they got the ball.

“I’m not ready for it to be over!!!” I remember screaming at my TV while pacing around my room before the drive started.

He wasn’t either.

Foles flawlessly drove 77 yards, making it look easy. Three yard touchdown pass to Zach Ertz with just under five minutes to go. 24–23.

We were going to win the game.

I vividly remember a few friends excitedly texting me. This team was so fun, and Foles wouldn’t let them lose.

We were going to win the game.

The next few minutes felt like the prior summer for me where everything seemed to go wrong.

Alex Henery’s kickoff got caught in the wind and only made it two yards deep into the end zone. Then Saints kick returner Darren Sproles got around a wedge and broke free. The Eagles had two options. They could either let Sproles return the kick for a touchdown and give up the lead but guarantee they’d get the ball back, or they could try to catch Sproles from behind but would likely get a horse collar penalty in the process on the desperation tackle.

They opted for the latter. The Saints got the ball right around midfield.

I put my hands over my face as they gained another 38 yards to set up an easy field goal attempt.

Face fully buried in my hands, I hoped it would somehow do something. No such luck as Shayne Graham’s kick sailed through the uprights.

Aside from shaking hands, Foles never made it on the field again.

26–24 Saints. Game over. Season over.

My weekly source of happiness was gone.

The Worst Night Of My Life

My parents don’t really drink, so if I ever wanted a beer, I tried not to do it around them at the time, but in this moment, I did not care.

There was some 3-week old beer leftover from when we went to the game in the fridge. I grabbed it and just started drinking. Never have I thrown up from alcohol in my life, largely due to an irrational fear of vomit, and never have I wanted to throw up more.

I went through beer after beer as the late hours of the night turned to early morning. I watched postgame coverage until it was no longer on TV. I then turned to the radio to find more postgame coverage. I even took a call from my friend Tim. While he knew I didn’t want to talk, he was appreciative of my time as he was applying for Onward State, where I wrote in college, and wanted my advice on how to approach it.

After that, I turned back to the radio looking for more postgame coverage — Anything to hang onto the season.

The moment you realize that there is a zero percent chance of winning the Super Bowl and you have to wait until next year hurts. Playoff losses hurt even more, and this one stung particularly hard.

Based on a few disappointing seasons after, the 2013 Eagles were largely a footnote for a lot of people — an overachieving team that got hot before they lost their first playoff game, but to me, they were special.

I passed out around 5 a.m. and never did throw up. I woke up around 2 p.m. well after the first Sunday game had already started.

They were so close. We were going to win the game until we didn’t.

Twitter Trolls — “Foles Left The Field With The Lead!”

I owe much of my current career to Twitter, but the downside of it is that it’s given a voice to trolls and convinced people that they can act like idiots without consequences or accountability and ignore legitimate counterpoints when they get called out.

Writers and celebrities get harrassed. Someone can ruin a major corporation’s day just by starting a fake rumor to troll world class NFL reporter Adam Schefter.

Weird corners emerge where certain fans convince themselves that they’re better fans because they don’t get emotional about losses.

I always had a theory that these people are missing something in their lives, whether it’s fulfillment at work, in a relationship, or something else. Normal people don’t behave like that as an outlet, and hating your job and your life doesn’t give you permission to be a dick to others on social media.

Diehard fans ride with their team through thick and through thin. People like this pretend act as if life is meaningless.

Sports don’t work that way.

In this instance, Foles became an item of their ire. Despite outplaying Brees and putting the Eagles ahead in the fourth quarter, they blamed him for the loss.

‘Foles left the field with the lead!’ became their mocking rallying cry in an attempt to troll fans who pointed out the truth that Foles did indeed leave the field with the lead, doing his job if the defense and special teams could have only done theirs.

They’ll never admit that, but I feel bad for the DadSelfie’s, the Slap Bet’s, the Treblaw’s, the Smith Web’s, the Jason AAV’s, the Polak’s, the Vecellio’s, the Scrappled’s, the Len D’amico’s, the DiFilippo’s, the de Bear’s, the Fritznitz’s, and the Cooper’s of the world in that they’ll never experience the true joy of victory because they never take defeat seriously.

Foles As An Inspiration

I was still not feeling great into that spring, but Foles got me through the tough days.

It was around late April where I felt like I was beginning to turn a corner. There were setbacks for sure, but I was getting there and whenever I filled out an application or went on an interview, I thought about Foles’ record-setting performance in Oakland or him leading the Eagles through the snow against Detroit.

I accepted a part time job in a Philadelphia suburb that summer a second one a week after that.

My energy was back. I had lost 20 pounds and was writing again for fun. I was back in a routine with my confidence coming returning, but I needed to nail the final punch, to throw the game-winning touchdown.

I was grateful for them, but at the same time, I knew that my future wasn’t at any of these jobs and wasn’t even in Philadelphia.

New Beginnings And A New Season

On Monday, September 8, 2014, I accepted my dream job with VaynerMedia in New York City.

The day prior, the Eagles won their season opener 34–17 as Nick Foles led a second half comeback after being down 17–0 at halftime.

Foles was partly at fault for that deficit. He threw an interception and fumbled twice, but he figured it out and won, just like he always does.

What an incredible two days.

I was thriving again in a vibrant environment where I was learning and growing, and for a couple months, it felt like the Eagles were too.

Foles wasn’t quite as good as the magical 2013 but had gotten the Eagles off to a 6–2 start. I loved watching him. Then, he suffered a separated shoulder that would sideline him for the remainder of the season.

The Eagles managed to tread water for a few weeks before their season went off the rails, They lost three of their last four games, finishing with a 10–6 record and missing the playoffs.

I’ll never be able to prove it, but there was a prevailing thought among some in the fanbase — myself obviously included — that had Foles been healthy, they at least would have gotten back to January.

Wherever Foles Goes, I’ll Root For Him

That offseason, Chip Kelly assumed personnel control of the Eagles and shipped Foles off to St. Louis in a trade for Sam Bradford, deciding that Foles wasn’t good enough to win him a Super Bowl.

The ironic thing of course, is that Foles has won a division title and played well in a playoff game. Bradford has done neither.

No one player will ever be bigger than the team, but I told myself that — as long as the game result didn’t negatively impact the Eagles — I would root for Foles wherever he went.

That resulted in me adopting the Rams as my second team in 2015 and the Chiefs last season before Foles decided to return to Philadelphia this March as Carson Wentz’ backup.

I was of course ecstatic and even alluded to how important it was to me on Facebook, but didn’t go into details.

Now I’m letting all the reasoning and background information spill so even if people refuse to understand, they at least have the information at hand.

Here We Are

It’s more than three years now since the final days of that dark year. I’ve been promoted every year at work and like to think that I’ve helped a few people along the way as well. I have a good group of friends, a great relationship with my girlfriend Jaime, and a family who supports me and respects my Eagles passion even if they may not fully understand it.

You can laugh, but I thank Foles for making a lot of it happen.

Another Playoff Game

The first playoff game since that fateful night is coming. The Saints and Drew Brees are a potential — and likely — opponent.

My heart wants a chance at revenge and closure, but my head knows that they are far and away the most dangerous of three possible teams the Eagles could see next Saturday.

Either way, if all goes according to plan, this will be the final season Foles starts playoff games for the Eagles. Carson Wentz if healthy should be the starter for the next 10–15 years and create some incredible memories.

It will be a nerve-racking day for me. A lot of fans like to get together to watch big games. I can do that for other teams I like but not the Eagles. I largely watch alone and figuratively with my friends on Twitter.

I’ll do that here as well, but unlike most games, I’ll take a little bit more in before kickoff. I’ll survey my decently nice Manhattan apartment and think about all I’ve accomplished personally and professionally since that wretched year came to a close.

I’ll thank Foles for making it possible as I put on my black jersey and 2004 NFC Champions hat.

I’ll laugh at the trolls I mentioned earlier who have already given up or are going to be idiots on Twitter because they have nothing better to do.

To a lot of people, this will be a game that the Eagles aren’t expected to win despite playing at home with an extra week of rest. They’re missing their best player at the game’s most important position after all.

To me though, it will be a chance at redemption, a chance at closure, a chance for Foles to take aim at January again, and a chance for me to see my hero, who impacted my life in so many ways, whether he knows it or not.

Everyone goes through rough patches in life and finds different ways to deal with them. Depression and other mental health issues is not something we should be ashamed of. I hope my story relates to or inspires someone. If you enjoyed it, it would mean the world to me if you hit that ‘Recommend’ button. 💚🏈