“How many Lombardi Trophies have the Eagles won?”
Variations of this question abound.
“How many Super Bowls?”
“How many rings?”
We get it.
The asker has always known the answer. Until early 2018, it was a big, fat zero. These questions were never sincere. They were wielded like weapons, meant to end arguments, induce embarrassment, or assert superiority. No matter how good a season the Eagles were having—or how disastrous things looked for their rivals—the simple truth that the Eagles hadn’t won a Super Bowl rendered all other achievements irrelevant in the eyes of the interrogator.
Fast forward to today. A full season and one preseason removed from the Eagles’ first Super Bowl victory, I can say this with all sincerity:
I never needed that trophy.
Hear me out, Eagles fans.
In my early memories, I’m a kid standing outside the locker room in West Chester, clutching a pen and a notebook, waiting for my heroes to emerge after a grueling August practice. My brothers and I collected a few gems that day—an autograph from Andre Waters, a picture of my oldest brother with Mike Quick. Those moments were magic.
A few years later, as a teenager, I’m joyously watching Byron Evans, my favorite member of the Gang Green Defense, celebrate with a touchdown dance as the 6-4 Eagles dismantle the 10-0 Giants. The final score was 31-13. The Giants would go on to win the Lombardi Trophy that season, but that day remains one of the best of my youth.
Years later, as a young man, I’m running sprints on an unlit high school football field, trying to burn off frustration after Tommy Hutton botched the hold on a potential game-winning chip shot against the Cowboys on Monday Night Football. I was devastated.
At that moment, I had no idea it would take twenty more seasons for the Eagles to win a Super Bowl. The players who would get them there were still kids. A little boy in North Dakota named Carson was months away from his fifth birthday. Another boy in Austin, Texas, only a few years older, might be forgiven for cheering for the Cowboys. However, Nick was partial to the Texas Longhorns.
By the time the Eagles finally hoisted that elusive trophy, I wasn’t watching with my dad, as I’d always imagined. Instead, I was watching with my own children, my father’s spirit heavy in the room. The night of February 4, 2018, was one of the greatest of my life—but not because it changed how I felt about the Eagles.
You see, non-Eagles fans, my love for the Birds has never been about trophies. It has always been about something deeper. Eagles fans know exactly what I mean.
To those who’ve asked me that tired question over the years: Keep the trophy. Clearly, you’re the one who needs it.
Eagles fans have endured decades of heartbreak, from Randall Cunningham’s devastating injuries to agonizing NFC Championship losses, all without needing a single trophy to validate our loyalty. Our love for the Birds has been forged in the fire of those memories—both triumphant and agonizing.
Giants fans, Commanders fans, Cowboys fans—they’ve all thrown the question in our faces. Giants fans love to flex their occasional Lombardi Trophy wins, but I’ve seen them cheer for the Jets when things go south. Have you ever seen a Jets fan cheer for the Giants? Neither have I.
Washington fans? They’ve clung to the past since their last Super Bowl win in 1992, with occasional bursts of misguided optimism. Remember the Fun and Gun? Over the years, games against Washington brought some of my favorite memories as an Eagles fan. Like Randall Cunningham’s Capitol City Comeback in 1989. Or the Body Bag Bowl, a Monday Night Football massacre. These are moments I wouldn’t trade for anything—not even a trophy.
Cowboys fans? Let’s just say I’ve never met a worthy one who wasn’t geographically tied to Texas, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve even heard the trophy question at the Thanksgiving table (Most of us have one of them, don’t we?). These “fans” aren’t worth discussing any further.
So, yes, the answer used to be zero, and now it’s one. But it doesn’t matter.
The Eagles’ Super Bowl win was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy. I celebrated with my family, holding back tears as I wished my dad and others could have been there to share it. But that moment didn’t define my fandom. It was never about a trophy.
For Eagles fans, loyalty isn’t measured in rings—it’s measured in memories. The agony of watching Tommy Hutton’s botched hold. The ecstasy of Byron Evans’ touchdown dance. The countless moments that tether us to our team, no matter the outcome.
So, keep the trophy.
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