NFL | Bradford’s back, Eagles fans … so, are you happy now?

by Jack Kerwin  |  ydkjack1@gmail.com

Phew. Close one, huh?

Was really concerned about that Sam Bradford holdout derailing another mediocre, no-playoff-yielding season for the Eagles.

You know, he could make the difference between going, oh, 5-11 or 6-10.

Umm, wow, how exciting.

Not …

Seriously, people, the hub-bub about this dud – the consummate example of mediocre with a roller-coaster twist in NFL quarterback play – the last year and change has just about shredded an already thin sheath of tolerance for Philly fandom’s bandwagon-hopping fake tough to raw bone right here.

Can hear it already now that Sammy Sleeves decided to once again grace the NovaCare Center with his presence today after a week of moping and missed workout sessions.

Today: Screw him. He didn’t want us. We don’t want him back. He’s a wus for holding out. He sucks anyway.

Tomorrow: Well, at least he finally decided to “man up” and realized he has to do what’s best for the team. Let’s see what happens.

Next week: If Bradford stays healthy, we got a real shot at winning the NFC East. He’s our best option at quarterback to do something this year.

Two weeks: Who knows, maybe he’ll end up being our franchise quarterback after all. He’s great. Throws such a nice ball.

That stuff is just a precursor to a fall filled with excuses to rationalize Bradford’s successes or failures, how, at worst, him being the starter gives newly anointed savior Carson Wentz to learn from the sidelines without having his spirit and soul crushed on the field … and, at best, him being the starter means the postseason berth, hell, maybe even a Super Bowl victory.

With all due respect to Bradford, his statement-writing publicist and the hometown hope-aholics who, at some point, will eat up the drivel he shoveled upon returning to the fold after one of the lamest, weakest and most meaningless holdouts ever, puh-leeeeeeeze.

Any respect individuals had for Bradford before should be gone now. Just poof, blown away by a gust of wind in the springtime breeze that certainly has shown more staying power than the veteran signal-caller has shown in his pro career, or during a surprising stance that, frankly, finally, displayed he may – gasp – have some balls.

Bradford’s return is not cause for celebration, or reason to christen de facto Howie Roseman as a brilliant champion in this game of chicken.

Point being, who’s the real winner here, and what, exactly, did they win?
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Yeah, Roseman and the rest of the Eagles’ braintrust get the guy they have named their No. 1 QB for 2016 back, all contrite and focused to boot, ready to “lead” the team just a week after he bailed on it and demanded a trade elsewhere. Anywhere.

OK, Bradford gets to cash in on the rest of that bloated two-year contract, at least this year’s portion of it, and put himself in the line of fire all to benefit a team that doesn’t want him long-term and the kid who eventually will replace him.

That anyone would have a smidge of faith in Bradford now to direct the Birds anywhere besides down the drain is insane. By bailing on, first, his commitment to the Eagles, and then himself, he has confirmed that the words “belief” and “trust” are not fitting to link with him.

This is not about proving himself. This is not about winning games, or, laughably, championships, as Bradford’s words-composed-by-someone-else stated. This is about money. Period. Nothing else.

This, Eagles faithful, is whom Roseman and new coach Doug Pederson want to QB your team: a spineless jellyfish driven solely by dollar signs.

So glad he’s back.

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With all due respect to Bradford, his statement-writing publicist and the hometown hope-aholics who, at some point, will eat up the drivel he shoveled upon returning to the fold after one of the lamest, weakest and most meaningless holdouts ever, puh-leeeeeeeze. Any respect individuals had for Bradford before should be gone now. Just poof, blown away by a gust of wind in the springtime breeze that certainly has shown more staying power than the veteran signal-caller has shown in his pro career, or during a surprising stance that, frankly, finally, displayed he may – gasp – have some balls. Bradford’s return is not cause for celebration, or reason to christen de facto Howie Roseman as a brilliant champion in this game of chicken. Point being, who’s the real winner here, and what, exactly, did they win?