What a start to my career! Throwing touchdowns! High-fiving cool dudes on my team! Getting cheers from the Philly fans as I walk down the street! This is a dream!

And it could all go away at literally any moment. I live scared now. That is my life.

Hitting my super-talented receivers in stride for a big play, hearing that crowd, there’s nothing better in the world. But just wait until I — and I won’t do this intentionally, but I am human — overthrow Sproles on a crucial fourth-quarter red zone pass. That’s when I get the ol’ Frosty Stabber, as the Eagles fans call it.

Yeah, it’s a snowball filled with broken glass shards, drizzled with battery acid, because Philly.


Apparently, the fans don’t even wear gloves to make them; they made so many of these during the McNabb Era that their hands have developed a protective anti-acid coating. Scientists are studying them.

But hey, that just sort of terrifies me to — I mean pushes me to be by best, right? Haha, I cry myself to sleep. Playing in Philly is the best! I don’t think I will retire with 1.000 winning percentage. Please don’t kill me, or at least aim for the side of my helmet with your Icy Death Orbs.

How do you make so many of these things that there are legitimately several well-known local nicknames? And where did you find snow in September, you monsters? I love you.

We can't play sports*, but we can make jokes about them!

*Two of our writers hit a home run** once
**It was in a video game.