I was allowed to go catch one of my dad’s games in Washington or across town against the Jets.
Philadelphia was out of the question, though, especially during the Buddy Ryan era. So I developed a healthy hatred for the team down the New Jersey Turnpike as a kid. It only worsened when Randall Cunningham and Reggie White engineered some soul-crushing comebacks in the late '80s.
I’ve swapped my childhood fandom for an analyst’s neutrality. But I’d be lying if I said this week—Eagles vs. Giants—didn’t stir up something from back in the day. My dad, who turned 61 this week, probably feels that way too.