For the Love of Philly

Built By Heartbreak: How Philly Sports Made Me Who I Am

The moment the Eagles finally won their first Super Bowl, time stopped. For a second, the entire room was frozen, until someone pointed at the screen. 0:00. It was over. The Birds were champions.

I sprinted to my father, hugged him tighter than I ever had, and looked around the room. People from ages 10 to 60, smiling, crying, hugging each other like they’d just survived something. That moment lives in my head forever.

The only thing better than that was the second one, the Super Bowl where, seven minutes into the first quarter, it felt like we were going to win the whole time. Pure joy, start to finish.

I was born and raised in the Philadelphia area. Here, being a sports fan isn’t a hobby, it’s part of your identity. It’s stitched into who you are. I grew up in a world where my family and friends spent more time breaking down the Phillies lineup than worrying about work. Where the calendar revolved around Opening Day, Training Camp, and Game 7s.

As a baby, one of the only things that could calm me down was a Phillies game. My dad had stopped watching baseball after the ’94 strike, but I unknowingly brought it back into his life. We watched together every summer, through wins, losses, and rain delays. The Phillies were part of my childhood soundtrack, Harry Kalas calling home runs while I fell asleep on the couch.

Being a fanatic wasn’t optional. If you weren’t, my family didn’t fully trust you. My dad used to joke that he’d consider it a failure if I ever grew up to be a Cowboys fan. “Only kids who hate their dads become Cowboys fans in Philly.”

I’m writing this partly as an excuse to talk about how incredible it is to love teams that rip your heart out more than they make you whole. But mostly because I’m realizing how much this life, this fandom, made me who I am.

I demand the best from my teams, and over time, I started demanding the same from myself. The thing that still gets under my skin the most is watching someone who doesn’t care or isn’t trying. I care too much not to care.

Philly sports taught me to fight until the 27th out. To push until the final quarter hits 0:00. To keep showing up, no matter how much it hurts. That’s who I am. That’s who I’ll always be.