COLUMN: Among Eagles fans for Monday Night Football, I learned lots

Monday Night Football is about to kick off, and I have worn the wrong shirt.

It is long-sleeved, an Oxford button-down, plaid. Most importantly, however, it is green — dark green, not Kelly green, but a Philadelphia Eagles hue all the same, lined with white and dark blue to really look Eagles-like.

Ordinarily, this would not be a problem. I live in Macon. Unless otherwise stated, most folks here tend to be Falcons fans, if they keep track of NFL football at all.

Walking into The Brick pizza joint Monday night, I was blissfully unaware of my shirt, not feeling the need to declare my Falcons fandom or, conversely, avoid any other team’s colors.

I’d neglected to consider  my assignment that night, even though I had come up with the pitch myself: to report on a group of Philadelphia Eagles fans based in Macon. 

While I knew the club had decent numbers before I walked through the door — the Facebook page for Maconite Philly fans is up to 70 members and counting — something in my brain still didn’t connect the wires. 

Getting people to join a group online is one thing. Actually showing up in person in “enemy territory,” so to speak, is another.

When I saw somewhere between 15 and 20 of those Facebook members gathered around tables, nearly all of them adorned in Eagles jerseys and many wearing Philadelphia jewelry — rings, huge necklaces, you name it, one couple even toted a helmet to the affair — I immediately looked down at my shirt, suddenly reminded of my outfit.

“At least I’ll be undercover,” I thought.

Born and raised

I sat down to watch the game with the group, flanked by flags emblazoned with “Georgiadelphia” and Eagles logos, not knowing what to expect.

Eagles fans, and fans of any sports team from Philadelphia, have a reputation for being intense supporters of their team, to such an   extent that they can alienate or offend.

No fanbase can fit a single descriptor, of course, but this reputation is a prevalent one. It’s harder still to shed because of its perpetuation online.

Luckily for me, I knew at least one of the fans: Joe Finkelstein, a man plenty of Maconites are familiar with, told me about the group to begin with. His family tree is rooted in Pennsylvania, dictating his sports fandom. I met him inside, and he introduced me to a few fans.

The first one I spoke to was Quin Green, a Philly native and correctional officer who ended up working in Middle Georgia. When he was still in Philadelphia, he played in a football league for public safety workers as a defensive tackle.

Green also appeared briefly in an NFL documentary about the Eagles’ recent trip to the Super Bowl they lost against the Chiefs. He waves a flag topped with a sparkler in the middle of a city street, decked out in Eagles gear.

“I’m a die-hard fan,” Green said. “It means the world to me that we have this group down here.”

Green moves about the group with ease throughout the first quarter in his distinct Jalen Hurts jersey with golden trim, watching the teams duke it out in a surprisingly close fight — neither Philadelphia nor Atlanta score any points, trading empty drives.

Nearly as exciting as the opening quarter were the technical difficulties; as any true sports fan can attest, it isn’t a watch party without some sort of issue actually seeing the game.

In this case, two TVs on different walls played the game out of sync, one screen roughly a play ahead of the other. Half the group groaned as the Falcons converted a third down, the other half cheered as the second TV, the one approximately 30 seconds ahead, showed a penalty nullifying the gain.

Even more comical, if a bit infuriating, was the slow realization that overhead speakers relayed information from even further in the future. Joe Buck’s voice boomed from above plates of wings and burgers, regaling fans with the details of a play that, for us, would not happen on TV for some two minutes.

As Green and some other fans talked to the staff about syncing up the images and audio, I chatted with Alyson Phillips, another Philly native. We discussed the game and the reputation of the city’s sports fans, among other things.

“People say we’re rude. We’re not rude, we’re just honest,” Phillips said. “We get to the point, and we’re passionate.”

Phillips, also wearing an Eagles jersey and sipping on a colorful sour beer, is slightly betrayed when she learns I’m an Atlanta fan in hiding — “I thought you were one of us!” she says, pointing at my green button-up — but still kindly tells me about her time at the now-renamed Philadelphia College of Textiles and Science, how much the city means to her.

Eventually, following defensive stands and field goals, the Falcons can hold out no longer. After Hurts slings a touchdown pass to DeVonta Smith, Phillips turns to me, a delighted look on her face.

“I’m gonna sing you the fight song,” she says.

As she and the entire group break out in claps and spell out E-A-G-L-E-S, heads turn. 

Some people glance over in an effort to see what the fuss is, but people also migrate from the front of the restaurant to the back, where the action is. One patron, sporting a Falcons T-shirt and claiming the Eagles’ kicker is on his fantasy team, hits it off with several Philly fans.

Yes, the group is boisterous, but they are also fun — a real unit, blanketing the premises in green and lending it a lively atmosphere.

Changing teams

With such a group, there were bound to be some fans from outside of Philadelphia.

Elizabeth Smith is a Macon native and Central High School graduate who went on to attend the University of Delaware, a bit more than 40 miles away from Philadelphia. As the second quarter rolled on, she remembered her fandom from before her time up north.

“They let me down too many times,” the data scientist and student said of the Falcons for which she used to root.

For Smith, it was easy to become an Eagles fan once the team drafted her cousin, offensive lineman Tyler Steen. Steen, in a fascinating twist of Macon history, is the grandson of Macon’s only Medal of Honor winner, Sgt. Rodney M. Davis.

The city and its people did their part to convince her too, though.

“It really is as gritty as they say it is up there,” Smith said. “It’s a crazy feeling. The day of a game, there’s this energy (in Philadelphia). It’s buzzing, you see everyone wearing the team stuff. It was an amazing thing to be in.”

The first half wraps up. With the Eagles clinging to a 7-6 lead, some fans leave because of the late hour. I get ready to exit The Brick as well, snapping a picture for the group beneath their Georgiadelphia flags before I go.

Plenty of us, unwittingly, leave the party before the best part of the game.

After more back-and-forth in the second half and a gut-wrenching Saquon Barkley dropped pass late, Kirk Cousins and the Falcons managed to strike for a touchdown in the final minute before intercepting Hurts to seal an improbable, thrilling 22-21 win.

As a Falcons fan, it was electric. For those Philadelphia fans, it was undoubtedly rage-inducing.

Though the watch party dissipated early, I would have loved to see some of those fans react — not from a place of ridicule or superiority, but out of sheer fascination with the bond of that group, the glue that holds fans together in those moments.

‘You know what I mean’

It’s another 18 hours or so after I leave The Brick Monday night before I meet perhaps the most important Eagles fan of this group, and I don’t even see her in person. 

I instead speak to Kelly Justine, the person who organized the watch party but could not attend it, over the phone.

“I was born and raised in Jersey and I’m a lifelong Philly fan. My husband is from Tennessee, and he’s always been a Braves fan… we’re both active Air Force, so military work in Warner Robins brought us down here,” Justine said.

The two made a deal when they married that Justine would take up rooting for her husband’s Braves if he started cheering for the Eagles. Justine leaned into it big time and fell in love with the Braves fandom, but the Eagles always take first priority.

Two months after having her child, Justine sat on her couch and thought about how to make more friends in Macon, far from home.

Sports — Eagles football, to be precise — gave her the answer.

Kelly started the fan page and, after shooting a message in the “Support Macon Restaurants” Facebook group, found a home for watch parties at The Brick. 

The Facebook page continued to grow. The first game of the year, a Friday night game in Brazil against the Packers, drew a nice crowd at The Brick and ended in an Eagles win.

The group is far from one-of-a-kind. There’s countless “Eagle’s Nest” groups across different cities, Justine reassures me, and certainly a variety of fans in Macon that root for other teams — I happen to know a couple of fervent Cleveland Browns supporters that may technically count as a fan club.

But the bond this Macon Eagles contingent has built, coming from all different climes and banding together to actually meet in person and watch the games, demonstrates the beauty of sports.

That connection, one that spans a variety of gaps generational and geographical, is a special one. Justine tried over the phone to describe the feeling you get when you share that bond with a fellow fan. 

She rattled off adjectives, but finally just settled on trusting me to understand.

“You know what I mean,” Justine said. “When you walk into a room and you’ve made an instant friend, just because of the jersey they’re wearing. It’s the greatest thing in the world.”

I know exactly what she means. It happens every time I wear a Braves jersey to eat downtown. It happened when I wore a Falcons T-shirt to a Mercer football press conference.

Sometimes, you don’t even need a jersey. A shirt that’s the right shade of green will do just fine.