Philadelphia, PA - Jan. 19, 3:04 p.m.: On the frozen asphalt outside Veteran's Stadium, huddled around the last of the Miller Lites and a small fire, three men stared at two tickets. It had all the makings of a day for the ages: the most notorious crowd in all the NFL, the last game EVER at Veterans Stadium, NFC Championship game. It was )(#%$@ freezing! And we loved it. This was as close as any of use would ever feel like real men.

Alas, someone was going to have to miss out. Paper, rock...E@$@! Predictably, I lost. Not as predictably, my buddy Woods took it worse than me. He knew for Philly to have any chance to win, they needed me or Harold Carmichael (Fly Eagles, Fly!!). I wasn't even a Philly fan, but he knew I had reserve fan mojo in places most guys won't mention.

So when he saw I wasn't going, he dropped his beer, drew some halting breaths and started walking. We weren't sure what he would do, but we knew he was capable of anything (read: bombed). 500 meters out, he stopped, looked out to the vast, gutted South Philly wasteland and...took a piss. He came back, screamed "Go Time!", grabbed a beer and headed to the Vet. I think even Rush Limbaugh would have shed a tear (or at least spared some Oxycrotin) for this McNabb.