I Was Minding My Own Business, I Swear - Part 2

Last November, during one of our CHoP visits, I was accosted by an Eagles fan in the cafeteria. I was minding my own business, I swear. I was in Philadelphia. I was wearing a Giants hat. It was the middle of the season and both teams were very much "in it". I tried ignoring the guy, but there comes a point where you just have to say something. It was all in good fun.

A few Sundays ago, in the bagel place near our house, I truly am minding my own business. I am standing at the front of the line waiting for my bagels; I am rocking that same flex-fit sideline cap from a year ago; I am anxious for the 4 pm kickoff in Dallas even though it's hours away. In a strange dialect I hear someone behind me mumbling about "choking" and "Manning" and some other such things. It reminds me how annoying the Cowboys really are. They're like the Yankees: basically someone in every corner of every town in the entire world claims their loyalty. It's bad enough I have to live right on the border separating Eagles fans from Giants fans, but now I have to be reminded of "America's Team" spanning all corners of the universe.

I glance behind me casually to see the store has filled up, as it does on Sunday mornings. One customer has an odd grin on his unshaven face hidden slightly behind knockoff Dolce's. He seems to be looking in my direction. But I turn back around without a word.

I can still hear him talking that nonsense. And now he has gotten another person involved who seems to speak the native language more clearly. They're absolutely discussing the very game I am anxiously anticipating. But I don't care. In a few minutes I will be back in my house, surrounded by Giants fans, enjoying a warm bagel.

For some reason it is taking a long time to get me my order. The rest of the line is moving quickly. Now I feel two eyeballs peering at me just over the top of those fake Italian shades. I am ignoring him. I refuse to even look that way.

"Well we'll see you in the offseason tomorrow," he says. The words come out slowly, but relatively clearly. It seems his brain does not process these words as quickly as those in his own dialect. It was then I realized I had heard this accent before and all rationality escaped me.

"What are you an Eagles fan?!" I said.

His foolish grin widened; his head nodded.

This is my neighborhood! This is not Philadelphia! Granted we live right on the border, but we're on the north side. Eagles fans should be going to bagel places in Hamilton. They don't deserve the high-quality, perfectly crusted, round dough of Hot Bagels. I simply must be imagining things. Not to mention we're talking about the Divisional round of the playoffs...a game taking place roughly six weeks after the Eagles season unoffically ended, and two weeks after it literally ended.

"Sorry about that." I say as I finally collect my order and walk toward the exit.

"Yeah we figured it was about time you guys won one."

This is now the second thing he has said clearly enough for me to understand, but also the second thing that has made virtually no sense.

And then I notice he is following me out the door.

The rest of the conversation was quick and painful, each of his comments sending me further and further into a pit of hatred for all those pledging allegiance to the dirty bird of south Philadelphia. And for that matter the Flyers, Phillies, Soul, Ben Franklin, Vince Papale [Ed. note: even I can't root against Rocky], Dave and Busters, Robbins 8th and Walnut, whatever...and it basically just consisted of me pointing out reasons - rooted in fact - why the Giants were superior, and him mumbling things that were barely complete sentences in response.

Me: "Right since those two Super Bowl wins don't measure up to your two appearances."
Him: "Your QB stinks."
Me: "Your QB has been overrated for eight years, and can't complete a season."
Him: "He wins when they count."
Me: "Like those three straight NFC Championship games he lost or the Super Bowl where he threw up in the huddle?"
Him: "He owns the Giants."
Me: "1-1 in his career against the Giants in the playoffs and Garcia actually played in the win."

The moral of the story is that I would never talk trash to a total stranger simply because they are wearing clothing supporting a team I hate. And I am certainly smart enough to know I have no leg to stand on when my team is no longer playing. My preference is to say nothing. But there comes a point where it's just too daggone hard to be quiet.

And the important thing to really take from this whole experience is it's now been a solid two months since the Eagles played a game that mattered, and the Giants have won two since this little exchange. With one more to go.

And please get your bagels somewhere south of my town.