Scenes Following the Eagles’ Super Bowl Loss
The Sun came up on Monday in Philadelphia.
If it hadn’t, it likely would have been the second biggest story in town.
The day that followed the Philadelphia Eagles’ Super Bowl loss to the Kansas City Chiefs 38-35 was an incredibly unspectacular close to a remarkable run. In an alternate reality, Monday would have provided the electric follow-up to a Super Bowl victory.
On this afternoon, there was a deafening silence about the city. The type of quiet where you become keenly aware of what’s wrong with the car passing you, ponder what exactly they are building in that construction space down the street and try to guess the dull sound of music coming from an empty bar.
If the two weeks leading up to the game seemed to take forever, the city seemed a step slower in the aftershock of the loss. Still sporting their green, Philadelphians went back to reality and relinquished the center of the sports universe to another town once again.
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On nearly every residential block, there were remnants of some shenanigans from the prior night. Pick a case of your favorite light beer, there was an empty box of it awaiting to be picked up by a trash truck. Plastic bins with green icing lining the bottom of it depicted an Eagles cake that was hopefully devoured at halftime while things were still going sweet.
In the Northern Liberties and Fishtown neighborhoods, popular lunch spots seemed slower than usual. People walked alone or in twos, with little pep in their step and a hydrating drink that suggested they may have indulged a little too much the night before.
The supermarkets were still feeling the impact of the game in their sections with alcohol and snacks, with one particular location having entirely barren in the corn chip aisle. The same store also was missing a considerable draw for patrons just a day earlier.
Where before it was ripe with Eagles balloons, the store had replaced them all with Valentine’s Day themed ones, save for one small section. As if watching the game wasn’t enough, there were Chiefs-themed balloons staring at customers as they made their way through the checkout.
Further down the street, one man moved quickly, both in pacing and in shifting his attire to a Philadelphia Phillies sweatshirt, as he attempted to catch the subway.
On Frankford and Girard, a number of Philadelphians found themselves in green once again as they waited in line for cheesesteaks. Two men stopped one another, gave a side shrug and began talking about a defense they once believed in.
Across the street, a family of Philadelphia 76ers’ fans posed in front of a mural of a former Sixer known most for his defense. The group’s shirts suggested they had begun to shift focus from football to basketball, as many in the sports world will do in the next few days.
Along the Delaware River, an Eagles flag flew with fervor in the wind. It had the energy that so many Philadelphians had felt in the build up to the Super Bowl.
In that moment, it was pushed along by the wind as time will push along the road of fandom. As the flag would come to a seemingly lifeless halt, there would be some sort of enthusiastic swoosh of energy that kept it up.
In Old City, a mailman jumped out of his van just as Anthony Gargano let out a defeated sigh on his radio. The man was commiserating in a very Philadelphian way, agonizing over the loss by listening to sports talk radio.
Talking it out over the phone was the solution of a man in Chinatown, who paced back and forth in an Eagles jacket, waving his arms to the heavens.
A man emerged from Reading Terminal Market in an Eagles sweatshirt, took a long drag of his cigarette and slumped his shoulders in silence.
Green ruled the day inside of the market. Hats, jerseys and scarves.
A man in a black “It’s A Philly Thing” shirt sat at the bar, slowly enjoying a cold one. He slumped back into his chair, placing his head on his arm and looking upward in wonderment.
At a few nearby hotels, visits to town were all but over. Suitcases were loaded into ride share cars and passengers hopped in, their taste of home had a bitter end to it.
The show was finished. There would be no parade in those streets and the premium they paid to be close to City Hall in case of a massive postgame celebration was for nothing. Nearby, stacked barricades show the unfinished preparation for a party never fully executed.
The Ben Franklin Parkway, once a runway for the most joyous celebration in the town’s sports history, was nothing more than a road littered with some rogue green confetti and plastic cups with a tiny bit of green jello shot still remaining in them.
While Eagles gear was evident all across the city, the largest collection of fans gathered closest to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Maybe as a sanctuary in the wake of Sunday’s struggle or maybe because they knew there would be no bigger gathering here by the end of the week.
A man stood in front of Rocky in an Eagles sweatshirt and offered a “Go Eagles” to a group of strangers in an array of Philadelphia sports attire. They gave him a fist pump and he reminded them that, “We still fly high” before asking if they needed a picture taken.
Some ran up the steps, some made new friends and others stared up at the building. As if Jason Kelce was on a podium once again, giving one more electrifying speech.
Two women clad in Eagles gear sat in Eakins Oval before finally standing up and turning back towards the museum one more time. One remarked that the weather was at least nice on this otherwise terrible day.
The Sun came up again in Philadelphia.
One day closer to another Eagles season and one day closer to being amongst football’s elite towns of champions.
