Go Birds!

Last night, at the beginning of my shift, I said something weird and foreign and so out of character that I should have been shocked. And yet I wasn’t. It actually felt really good.

A man was standing in the port. He was staring at his phone, and he looked pretty confused. I asked him if he needed help. This wasn’t the out-of-character thing, because these days, thank god, wanting to help people comes pretty natural.

The man accepted my offer, and I told him where he wanted to be rather than where he was. He thanked me and I ran to get his car. When I returned, he asked if I had Venmo. I said I did, and this guy, lost in the Walled City, tipped me five bucks.

“Thanks, man,” I said, and I meant it. But then I noticed his scarf. After all this time, how could I have not seen it?

Something is happening. Some kind of inexplicable change. I don’t know everything about it, but I know my father would be disappointed. He’s the one who taught me to hate the enemy. Not good enough simply to compete. Must hate. Must get all hyper-emotional about it and hate.

It’s a long list, of course, but Billy Martin, Lou Piniella and really any Yankee are at the top of it. They are the perfect examples. My dad had some choice words for them, including a story he told me several times about observing Piniella remove a comb from his back pocket and straighten his hair… during a game!

“Right out there in left field,” dad would say. “What a prima donna.”

And now Facebook, a tool he would have hated had he known what it was, has turned his son into a softie. Not complete removal of hate but a hefty chunk nevertheless.

To be sure, Facebook has many faults, including its ownership and worthlessness as a political forum, but ever since the Eagles of Philadelphia destroyed our beloved Kansas City Chiefs in Super Bowl LIX, it has changed my perspective. Its content has helped me understand that my enemy really isn’t any different than me.

In a mere four days, Facebook has helped me become less zealous, less fanatical and, honestly, less toxic. It’s like someone removed part of my brain while I was ignoring news about the Chiefs.

This is how it happened. Do you know what Reels are? I am both mesmerized and horrified by these short videos. Usually, I click on anything showing the Chiefs scoring a touchdown. It makes me feel superior, and superiority is a big part of hating the enemy.

Since the Super Bowl, though, there have been scads of videos featuring the Eagles. I thought okay, what the hell, I’ll watch one of these. Most of them show superstar running back Saquon Barkley hugging and kissing his wife and adorable children. Clearly he’s a doting father and all-around decent human being. It’s impossible to hate him after watching even one of these videos.

Even his wife is cool. She actually appears to be a real person, eschewing high fashion and the layers of makeup worn by most players’ wives.

And then there’s Jalen Hurts, the Eagles’ quarterback. If you’re not familiar this guy’s story, check it out. Perseverance doesn’t even come close. It’s widely known that his agent, or team of agents, who negotiated his favorable contract, are all women. That’s just badass.

Again, impossible to hate.

Good for them. I won’t say I’m glad they beat the Chiefs, but knowing who they are and how they are makes losing less painful.

So, what about the scarf? After the man Venmoed me five bucks, I noticed it. It was green and gray, and it had that unmistakable eagle on there, wings spread. The enemy from Philadelphia, city of brotherly love.

That’s when I said the thing I can’t understand. It makes no sense. It just rolled right off my tongue. “Go birds!” I said, calling to him across the port.

“Go birds!” he replied, as his head disappeared into his car.

Damn, I hope my dad didn’t hear that.