November 13, 2012

This is going to get worse before it gets better.

The worst part about the 2012 Philadelphia Eagles season? It doesn't end until December 30.

There are seven weeks left. Seven games remaining, seven more chances to further reinforce that the Eagles are one of the worst teams in the NFL.

29th in points scored per game. 22nd in points allowed per game. Tied for 28th in sacks. 31st in turnover differential.

Todd Bowles hasn't improved the defense. In fact, he's kinda made things worse.

Michael Vick or Nick Foles? With a patchwork offensive line that now includes a guy signed off the street, it won't matter.

The time for queries, for "what'll fix this," that's long over. There's no bouncing back from 3-6, from a five-game losing streak, from a minus-65 point differential.

But you're not allowed to simply wave the white flag; there are tickets sold, concessions to peddle, beer to drink and Sundays to fill. So the machine'll plod ahead, all of us awaiting the inevitable.

Andy Reid will go about his business, refusing to give up on his guys, the ones that cost him his job, the ones that everyone else has abandoned. Unless they find new, unprecedented ways to embarrass themselves, he'll survive until Week 17, hoping against hope that it won't be his last game as head coach of the Eagles.

But it will be. The day he fired Juan Castillo (or, if you believe Les Bowen, the day he chose Vick over Kevin Kolb) was the official beginning of the end. Reid was rightly desperate, but the only bullet left in the chamber just sped up the downward spiral.

It felt like this year might be something special. A full offseason to gel, a well-regarded draft, a handful of contract extensions and placated veterans.

Talk about being dead wrong. And any anger I felt has already bypassed sadness and evolved into apathy. In fact, this is the last thing I expect to write about football until the offseason. I won't miss it.

Now it's all about the little things. Finding new ways to occupy yourself on game day, either by watching other teams or (gasp) going out into the world. I was blessed enough to spend Sunday on a bus from New York City to Washington DC, cut off from all forms of televised sports. I think the only Eagles fans luckier than me were the dead ones.

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