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Two years ago, I went to the Philadelphia Eagles’ home opener against the Dallas Cowboys and tailgated in the parking lot for hours beforehand. The tailgate experience mirrored that of an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia episode: Heightened levels of intoxication, parking lot fights, casual racism, and general idiocy that stood as an affront common decency. You would swear that show is a toned-down documentary of what actually goes on in that city based on the tailgate scene.
But what stood out most from the day’s madness was the nice couple I met in the picture above. Their truck was parked across the way from ours, and I caught a glimpse of the back of their jerseys when they turned around to dump a new load of drinks into their cooler. I loved the aggressive disparagement of two division rival quarterbacks on the back of what had to have been expensive custom-made jerseys, and the fact that they actually wore them in public. I went over to talk and get a picture of them because I thought the jerseys were funny and I was looking for some people to beat in bags.
The two of them happily obliged to have a picture of their jerseys taken when I asked, and it wasn’t until they assumed the position for their pose that I noticed the number arrangement. Nice work, you two. This is a perfect example of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. On their own, the jerseys make you look like a try-hard tool who probably throws batteries at opposing fans from the upper deck. But together they create a nice synergy with the 69, oral sex references, and outward assholishness that makes Philly fans so special. It’s kind of like when two people come together and… you know.
When I asked them where they got the jerseys made (Since there’s no way the NFL’s website would let you get something like “Eli Blows” on the back when they don’t even let you create Ron Mexico jerseys) they got into the story of why they got them in the first place, which was both wildly inappropriate but at the same time totally appropriate for the situation. The guy said he settled for this couples jersey combo as a birthday gift because the girl wouldn’t acquiesce to his original request of anal sex. I could tell he wasn’t being facetious or cracking a joke about it because the girl immediately started shaking her head and spitting out a mouthful of lines like “I’m not doing that. Nope. Don’t care how many times you ask, not happening.” This then devolved into the guy begging and making his case for why she should take it up the butt from him, despite the girl’s continued refusal. Shooters shoot for the poop chute, I guess.
I love this photo and accompanying conversation I had with the people in it. The picture never fails to brighten my mood, and it warms my heart knowing that this nice young couple shares a love that’s bound by Eagles fandom and hatred of intradivisional rivals, and doesn’t let a little thing like a squabble over butt stuff tear them apart. They truly embody the spirit of the ninth day of the sixth month of the year, and I urge you all to go down on today with that same spirit to make the world a nicer place..
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@ArrowZeppelin
ArrowZeppelin
To me, 69 means dinner for two.
This couple seems like they would be super fun to hangout with at the beginning of a long day of drinking. No way they are still super fun after 10 hours of drinking though.
A+ comment / observation.
I’m envisioning the guy with his head tilted back, “here we go again” look on his face, and the girl with a can warm of Coors Light in her left hand, lit cig in the right, half bent at the waist, hair falling over her shoulders, just laying into him about a fight from at least four months prior.
I just pictured them either having a blowout fight or making everyone super uncomfortable by their aggressive PDA. We have all met this type of couple.
I think we just covered the three stages of them in the parking after the Eagles inevitably lose on Sunday Night Football. Taking a shot in the dark that neither of them has a job which requires an 8:00 arrival M – F.
its cornhole, not bags.
Other than that this was a beautiful love story.
Whenever someone calls it’s bags, I know I’m going to beat them
It was always called “bags” at Kansas State while I was there, but when I moved to Denver I noticed everybody calls it “cornhole” which is a much better name and I’ve embraced it. That said, everybody here thinks I’m a weirdo when I call “ladder golf” by its true name, “horse balls”.
When I lived in NC we called ladder golf “redneck golf”
It’s probably because I’m in the middle of reviewing a report, but it’s bothering me for some reason that they didn’t make “Romo sucks” on the #9 jersey.
Exit 69, where everybody gets off
I’m more of a 64 guy. Similar to a 69, but my colleagues and I owe her 5.
Listen. Philadelphia is a lovely place, full of lovely people. We are not all drunken degenerates. We do, however, love some Rum Ham. Also Giants suck go Birds.
My Giants can’t buy a win at the Linc yet I always buy tickets. Can’t wait to get ridiculed at xfinity after it inevitably happens again this year
Trying to throw it in the pooper on your birthday. Classic.
Needed this lighthearted humor after the emotional whirlwind Duda’s article just took us through
God I love being from Philly, I know son many people like this
Cowboys