On New Year’s Eve day, after agreeing to buy unlimited beer for our neighbors, Jake manages to trade seats with the season-ticket holder in front of me—and once Jake is seated, he props my cast up onto his shoulder so I am able to sit down during the Falcons game.
A few minutes into the first quarter, head coach Andy Reid pulls the starters, and the game announcer reports that Dallas has somehow lost to Detroit, which means that the Birds have clinched the NFC East for the fifth time in the last six years and the current game is meaningless. Everyone in the Linc cheers, high fives abound, and it is hard to stay in a seated position.
With the starting wide receivers out, I get my hopes up for Hank Baskett, and he actually does catch a few balls in the first half, each of which Scott, Jake, and I celebrate excessively because I am wearing my Baskett jersey over my winter coat, and we all like to root for the undrafted rookie.
It’s 17–10 Eagles at halftime, and Scott actually leaves the game, saying that he promised his wife he’d come home for New Year’s Eve if the Cowboys lost and the Eagles game became meaningless. I give him a hard time about leaving and am surprised that my brother does not join in with the ribbing. But shortly after Scott takes off, Jake says, “Listen, Pat. Caitlin has me going to this black-tie New Year’s Eve party at the Rittenhouse Hotel. She was mad at me for going to the game today, and I was sort of thinking about taking off early so I could surprise her. But I don’t want to leave you here with the cast and all. So how do you feel about leaving early?”
I’m shocked, and a little mad.
“I want to see if Baskett gets his second touchdown,” I say. “But you can go. I’ll be all right here with all the real Eagles fans—the people who are staying to see the whole game.” It’s not a very nice thing for me to say, especially since Caitlin is probably already dressed and waiting for Jake to come home, but the truth is, I need my brother’s help getting out of the Linc on crutches. I have a feeling that Baskett will get the ball a lot in the second half, and I know Jake really wants to see the game anyway; maybe he’ll be able to use his mentally ill brother as a good excuse for missing the first part of Caitlin’s New Year’s Eve party; maybe this is what Jake really wants and needs. “Beer man!” I yell to the Coors Light guy who is passing our row. When he stops, I say, “Only one beer because this guy here is leaving his crippled, mentally insane brother to go to the Rittenhouse Hotel so that he can swill champagne with non-Eagles fans in tuxedos.” My brother looks like I punched him in the gut, and soon he is pulling out his wallet.
“All right. Fuck it. Make it two beers,” Jake says, and I smile as my brother sits down in Scott’s seat and helps me prop my cast up onto the back of the empty seat in front of me.
Through the second half, Baskett continues to catch A. J. Feeley’s throws, and early in the fourth quarter my favorite player runs an out, catches the ball, and runs down the sideline eighty-nine yards for the second touchdown of his young career. Jake helps me stand, and then everyone in our section is high-fiving me and slapping my back because over my coat I am wearing the Baskett jersey my brother gave me when I first got out of the bad place.
I would later learn that Baskett is the first Eagles player to catch two touchdown passes longer than eighty yards in the same season—which is an accomplishment, even if number 84 has only been a marginal player this year.
“And you wanted to leave,” I say to Jake.
“Go Baskett!” he says, and then gives me a one-armed sideways hug—shoulder-to-shoulder.
After the Eagles’ backup players win the last regular season game, the Birds finish their season at 10-6, locking up at least one home play-off game in the process. I crutch my way out of the Linc with Jake as my fullback, parting the crowds, shouting, “Cripple coming through! Cripple coming through! Move out the way!”
We don’t meet up with Cliff’s gang until we get back to the fat men’s tent and the Asian Invasion bus. But when we do, our friends greet us with a Baskett chant because number 84 had a career-high 177-yard day and an 89-yard TD.
With play-offs to discuss, everyone is reluctant to leave, so we drink beers and discuss the 8-8 Giants, whom the Birds will play in the first round. When Cliff asks me if I think our team will beat the Giants, I tell my therapist, “Not only will the Eagles win, but Hank Baskett will catch another touchdown.”