The Braves won a decade and  half of NL East division titles and their fans are pissed because they’ll “only” get the Wild Card this year.

Dry your eyes.

The Phillies are coming off a 21-6 September.  They’re slightly less threatening than a flesh-eating virus sweeping across the country.  They’ve forcibly penetrated October for the fourth time in a row with an offense that can’t take its foot off the gas and a starting rotation that’s been described as a “buzz saw.”  They have the best record in all of baseball and are literally the best Phillies baseball team to ever walk the earth.

BUT WAIT A SECOND

[Yardbarker]

This is a football town after all, right Howard Eskin, you stupid douche?  And the Eagles can offer you a Michael Vick vs. Donovan McNabb early season matchup with drama drama drama, so, you know.  Pay attention, if you like that sort of thing and are therefore a teenager who accidentally strayed to this site from trolling Facebook updates.

Michael Vick’s been down a rocky, bloody, viral road.  The first step was getting out of prison, followed by getting a team to sign him, then hoping their starter would get out of the way, then hoping their backup would get out of the way, then hoping that the agility and precision that made him a star would come back in the blink of a Kolb-cussion.

The Eagles showing up to this Sunday’s game with Michael Vick at starting QB feels like they had to scramble for a date to a wedding in which their ex was going to be in attendance, and just got a prostitute whose notoriety is based on physical prowess and prison time.

“Oh, hey, Donovan.  The Redskins, huh?  Is that what you’re into now?  Yeah, we’ve clearly moved on.”

But this is Philadelphia.  “Moving on” is just not part of the natural flow of things.  Just ask J.D. Drew or Scott Rolen or any one of a dozen athletes who come back into town and are surrounded by tens of thousands of us with good memories and even better throwing arms.

This idea, however, is so tragically juvenile and futile that it is hard to believe grown adults both conceived it and intend to go through with it.

In case you didn’t click that link, there were 30 dudes who got together in 1999 to attend the NFL Draft.  The Eagles were going to pick RB Ricky Williams, whose cartoonish speed and agility would lead them to the Promised Land.  Instead, the Eagles selected Donovan McNabb, and the “Dirty 30” Eagles fans in attendance booed their balls off.

And they were right to do so!  McNabb did little with his time in Philadelphia other than go 103-56 over 10 years with the Birds, with eight playoff appearances and a Superbowl, that yeah, they lost.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

McNabb had a rep as a “crybaby,” which was somewhat deserved (the dude threw up during the Superbowl… not cool), but it’s not like he sat on a pile of losing seasons with his arms folded and a frowny-face.  He wasn’t a Ryan Leaf or a JaMarcus Russel or a Matthew Stafford.  He was a talented, skillful leader who fell short in getting the city a ring.

Did you not hear me?  I repeat, “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

Anyways, those 30 embodiments of classy, mature adulthood will again assemble as McNabb returns to Philly in what will undoubtedly be a game that is cut to all day long because it is very clear that the game of football is far inferior to any possibly OMFG DRAMA that can be stirred up.  Being a group of 30 grown men who get together to stalk and skewer another grown man who plays a game for a living is a stewpot of just such horse shit, and it is going to be on televisions everywhere.

Take that, McNabb!  Ha ha, yeah.

He also led the team in pass and rush yards in his first year.  Did I not say that?  Sorry.

Don’t forget to read any one of Justin’s 10,000 other blogs, That Balls Outta Here, Call to the Pen, and Sports Talk Soup.