Dog Mentality: A newsletter from a Birds fan abroad (or at least outside of Philadelphia)

Week 8 & 9 and “Red October”

Note from the author: This is another combination post. Your dear correspondent held off on last week’s recap because the Birds routed the Steelers. Not much to say there, Iron City’s ball club has a season outlook as bleak as a Cormac McCarthy novel. For the unfamiliar, he’s the author who cooked up a hitman who offs victims with a “knocker” (an air-powered bolt utilized in slaughterhouses to terminate cattle with extreme prejudice). Pleasant stuff.

Plus, the Phillies made it to the World Series! I wanted to wait to see the turnout from Red October in Citizens Bank. Next week, we’ll be back on track. Enough housekeeping. Let’s get into it.

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If baseball’s America’s pastime, but only 20,272 people have ever played in MLB since its founding in 1876, it could be argued (statistically) that sucking at baseball is America’s actual pastime. An exceptional few called a pro-dug out home, an exponentially much greater many likely washed out of Little League. All of that wind up to say, your dear correspondent definitely falls into the “greater many” category.

Hand-eye coordination was not a gift I was blessed with. I’d say I have two left hands, but in reality, the brass at the kid factory strapped two cylinder blocks to my wrists before shoving me out onto black tops where tether ball was king and Little League seasons inevitably ended in “Coach’s Awards.” I had a lot of heart (a thing only kids who were generally unskilled at youth sports ever heard; compliments specific to actual on-field performance were generally reserved for kids who made it on base). I also spent a lot of innings way out in right field.

In 4th grade, during PE, the entire class participated in a game of slow-pitch softball. By 4th grade I was acutely aware of just how bad I was at fielding, hitting, and running the bases. What’s worse? I knew my 4th-grade crush (we’ll call her Sharon) would not only be in the game but also sitting behind me in the batting order. The first girl who made me think girls aren’t full of cooties had front-row seats to my imminent implosion. So the entire run-up to this game felt like the boat ride from the aircraft carrier to Normandy Beach. I knew PE would arrive, I’d strike out in slowpitch and then be hideously mangled by a salvo of my friends' laughter.

After a fast inning or two, I was up to the plate. Val, one of the dudes who got tall early, stood on the pitcher's mound in front of me. Behind me, sweet, quiet Anna Albrecht wore the catcher's mask. Sharon sat to my immediate southwest, just out of my peripheral. Val began his glacial windup. To this day, I can still hear my inner monologue screaming to lean in for a peg to take a walk. But I swang. Strike. The next pitch came, way out wide. On the third pitch, I swung again for a foul. The 1-2 count encouraged an outfielder to yell “easy out.” Giggles dotted the audience like early snows hit the ground in the Big Country.

Val reset for another underhand wind-up. I wish I could say I heard my coach, father, or the ghost of Shoeless Joe Jackson in my head. I wish I could say I had a “Sandlot” moment where I remembered to plant my feet, breathe, and keep my eyes locked right where the bat meets the ball. But that’s not what happened. When the ball soared over the plate, fear of catastrophic embarrassment took over my body like adrenaline during fight or flight responses. I closed my eyes and thrashed my limbs around my body like a wildebeest trying to escape a hungry lion.

Like the Battle of Britain survivors, I heard the bomb before I saw it. The bone-crunching pop reached my ears before I opened my eyes to see the ball sailing off to deep left field. I took off for first. It cleared the left fielder's head, and he was running it down on the blacktop. Headed to second, I felt like I was floating. Suddenly there was a commotion in the in-field. Players left their positions. “They must be adjusting to defend,” I thought, “Who’s the easy out now?”

Before rounding third, I noticed the ball was nowhere near me, in fact, the third baseman was running toward home now too. They must really have blown this play. My mind raced with thoughts of an inside-the-park homerun. I could tell my parents about it. My friends would proclaim me king of 4th grade. I’d drop to a knee and propose to Sharon at home plate. She’d say yes, obviously. Then I rounded third.

My PE teacher knelt down over the plate. Behind him, most of the class gathered with the same considered posture as people approaching car collisions. It sure didn’t look like a celebration. Then I saw poor, sweet, quiet, Anna Albrecht doubled over on the ground sobbing. Tears dripping off the catcher's mask wiring looked like overflow from a clogged gutter. Next to her, the bat lay on the ground. I slowed to crawl. When I got to the group, it parted like an ancient Nordic gauntlet.

Whispers down from rows of peers filled me in on what happened. In my utter excitement, I released the bat at the speed of the average intercontinental ballistic missile. The playground aerial assault weapon had literally taken Anna off her feet. After apologizing, I sat off to the side and surveyed the aftermath of the cruel physics wrought by my excitement. It was my Icarus moment, I’d flown too close to the proverbial sun. For a second, I thought the 4th grade would know I was an athlete, then I almost lobotomized a classmate with an aluminum baseball bat.

It was about this time when I decided I wasn’t going to care about baseball anymore. That it just wasn’t for me. And for years I went on not caring about baseball. Then the Phillies made the World Series.

So for the last week, I’ve watched the high highs and the low lows of Philly baseball. And while some of it broke my heart — no-hitter! — most of it gave me a newfound appreciation for the game. The fans shaking so violently in Citizens Bank that it registered as an earthquake. Bryce Harper performing like a bearded Superman. Kate Upton’s husband pitched a winning game in the postseason. The hilarious camera cuts between the type of fans who grow up under Philly sports like barnacles under a ship and the First Lady. Yuengling ads the size of a one-story house. The Philly Phanatic driving Meek Mill around the stadium. Pure unadulterated spectacle and the kind of thing I can chat about with my grandad the next time I see him. I am glad baseball’s back in my life, even if Game 5 sucked to watch.

But fear not Iggles fans — football is king after all — and we beat The Texans.

Birds Beat the Texans: 29-17 (8-0)

For the first time in FRANCHISE history, the Eagles make it to 8-0. It’s historic stuff. Did it come off the back of an ugly win? Sure. But a win’s a win, guy.

Our start was slow, and Davis Mills and Damien Pierce are legit rookies. Sure, the Texans play like they can’t find a color in the crayon drawer, but it’s not their QB's or their RB's fault.

Our offense breakdown is as follows:

• QB Jalen Hurts 243 yards passing for 2 (passing) touchdowns

• RB Sanders had 93 yards rushing and a tuddy

• RB Gainwell had 22 yards rushing and a tuddy

• TE Dallas Goedert (stud that he is) had 100 receiving yards and a tuddy (avg 12.5 yards a reception)

• WR AJ Brown had 59 yards and a tuddy

What do these numbers mean? It means the Bird’s offense is doing what any competitive offense should be doing at this point in the year — spreading the love around. Think about a team with limited weapons, like The Rams. Due to injuries and other things, the entire country knows the ball is going to Kupp. Stop Kupp, stop The Rams.

There’s a version of this season where Hurts ignores every tool at his disposal and just throws to AJ Brown all day every day. Is Sirianni mad about it? Probably. But in that reality, we likely still finish with a winning record and the occasional box office home game. But Hurts wants to win (more on that later) so he makes do with the entire offensive arsenal at his disposal.

So yeah, ugly win. Should it have been a bigger lead? I don’t know. Vegas had the birds up with a 13.5 spread and they didn’t cover. So the odds guys think so. But you can’t put 35 points up every week, it’s the NFL after all.

T.B.T. (The Big Take)

During the post-game interview, when asked about he felt about the Eagles’ 8-0 record, Hurts responded:

“I know it’s special for the city of Philadelphia, but I’ve been 8-0 before and lost the National Championship. So we just have to take it day by day. We haven’t accomplished anything yet. It’s a day-by-day thing of us controlling the things we can and playing to our standard and trying to grow every day.”

And he’s right. In my first post, I promised I’d make a Super Bowl run call after Week 8. So here it is: The NFC is the Eagles’ division to lose.

The AFC baddies are tough — and frankly, I don’t think the chicken, beer, and picnic table industries have the inventory necessary to survive an Eagles v Bills Superbowl weekend — so a Superbowl could go any which way.

All season people have tried to pick which games will really test the Birds. I’ve heard names like the Packers and the Titans (for some reason). But in reality, I think it’s the Giants. Healthy Saquon is terrifying. He’s basically the raptor from “Jurassic Park” but instead of discovering how to open doors to eat people, sooner or later, he figures out how to blow through defensive players like extra-holly Swiss Cheese. Plus, head coach Brian Doball’s no joke. And we’ve still got to play those guys twice.

We can win. Frankly, we can win any of these games. Now the only thing that matters is if we do.

Defense and other things

C.J. Gardner-Johnson probably saved the game. It’s hard to pinpoint one play that really makes the difference, but his 3rd quarter interception definitely put the momentum squarely back in the Eagles' favor. He also currently leads the league in interceptions (5).

The d-line is facing various injuries, however, the boys are making do. Javon Hargrave has 5 sacks in the last 2 games. And the front office just scored veteran defensive end, Robert Quinn, from the Bears. Ideally, he shows up on pivotal 3rd and shorts to regulate when it counts.

Now, other things.

• Sirianni was thrilled by the turnout of fans to an away game. He said he’d like to grab a beer with all the fans who showed out in Houston. Do I love this guy now?

• Jason Kelce and Hurts have like a Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Center thing going on and it’s fantastic.

• Truly a fantastic time to be a Birds fan.

Finally, thank you for indulging my big baseball story in the upfront this week. Given the Eagles’ last two wins, I figured it might be a good idea to switch up the format this week. In-depth breakdowns return next week.

NFC East Shuffle

• New York Giants (6-2)

  • I don’t like these guys. Not one bit.

• Washington Commanders (4-4)

  • Heinicke is on a heater.

  • Bezos might buy the team. If so, he’ll be the first owner who’s left Earth’s atmosphere. However, he won’t be the first owner to put the thumb on a union or two.

• Dallas Cowboys (6-2)

  • Dak’s back.

  • They recently beat the Rams, who’ve been stinking up El Segundo all season. You can smell their performance from an apartment some miles away.

Hot takes and hotter questions

• Gossip sites report Brady and Gizele have an “ironclad” prenup. Too bad Brady doesn’t have an ironclad O-line.

• Meek Mill performed “Dreams and Nightmares” before the start of Game 5. It turned out to be a Shakespearan choice.

• Images of Philly fans watching the Eagles game from their Ipads at the World Series reveal that football is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy.

• Philly legends Bernie Parent, Julius Erving, Brandon Graham, and Mike Schmidt threw out the first pitch before Game 3 at Citizens Bank. Incredible stuff.

• Broncos fans remain wishing for death.

• The Jets are, get this, 5-2.

• I thought maybe The Ravens wanted to lose and beat The Browns against their best efforts (in week 7).

• Christian McCaffrey is a freak athlete. The 49ers are officially terrifying. Travelers to San Francisco beware.

• The Seahawks are 1st place in the NFC West. Geno Smith is fantastic, apparently. Pete Caroll’s still got his fastball.

• Have Raiders fans begun burning Jerseys yet?

• Rex Burkhead is still alive! And useful on 3rd downs.

Dog(s) of the Week

• C.J. GARDNER

• BRYCE HARPER

• NUFF SAID

Wins and Losses

• Loss: In Week 1’s edition a took a cheap shot for a joke about Tua being overrated. Big mistake. Did the Ravens' secondary collapse in on itself like a black hole? Yes. But did Tua capitalize for a legendary 4th quarter comeback? Also yes.

• Loss: In Week 2’s edition, I suggested the Bills would brutalize every opposing team so badly that the Bills “should give out adult diapers” to their opponents. Welp, I was wrong. They lost to Tua’s Dolphins and barely squeaked by the Ravens

• Loss: In Week 5, I spent a lot of time praising Sirianni’s restraint in the face of “aggressive analytics.” Then in Week 6, he left points on the board by going for a pointless 2-point conversion. We won, so it’s not the end of the world. But come on guys, just get the points.

Coming Up

The Birds battle The Commanders (again). Ideally, it’s a MNF blowout. Go Phils, let’s go to Game 7 baby.