by  Jack Kerwin  |  ydkjack1@gmail.com

Play along for a few minutes ....

We got two NFL quarterbacks. Veteran starters. Taken in the same draft.

Still young, but the narratives to their careers seemingly written in stone already.

One considered a superstar, the type of once-in-a-lifetime franchise quarterback who would lift the spirits of any fan base, no matter how emotionally torn and tattered it may be.

The other considered, well, almost an afterthought. OK mostly, and, perhaps, even good at times, but, really, not the kind of QB who has anyone thinking, “yeah, he is THE guy.”

Funny thing is, when you cut through the hype, skip the BS and just get down to facts, it’s pretty hard to differentiate between the two, say, during the past three seasons.

Or, more to the point, which is which.

To wit:

• Quarterback A has a 57.5 winning percentage as a starter in that time.
• Quarterback B 66.7.
• QB-A completes 63.7 percent of his passes throughout his career, averaging 7.0 yards per attempt and has a passer rating of 92.5.
• QB-B 66.1, 7.4 and 96.0.
• QB-A has been named to one Pro Bowl.
• QB-B two.
• QB-A has never taken a snap in a playoff game.
• QB-B has started in three playoff games, posting a 95.7 passer rating and accounting for seven touchdowns.
• QB-A has directed four comebacks and four game-winning drives.
• QB-B has eight and 14.
• QB-A has run for two touchdowns, averaging 3.8 yards per carry rushing.
• QB-B 18, 5.0.
• QB-A is considered the superstar.
• QB-B is considered … OK.
• QB-A is Carson Wentz.
• QB-B is Dak Prescott.

Welcome to reality, Philly fans, media and the national talking heads far too influenced by their man-crushing comrades who cover the Eagles masking themselves as professionals with unbiased insight.

Look, you wanna argue that Wentz is better, or will be? OK, fine. Not even gonna debate that, even though the above evidence pretty much destroys any case you could make right now – and, sorry, being injury-prone such as Wentz happens to be is not a “chalk one up” for you.

Thing is, it’s never about who is better. It’s about the absolutely absurd levels to which some fans – and, yeah, hell, yeah, that includes a lot of media members anymore – push their favorites as the ultimate, alternating hyperbole with almost hallucinogenic rationale to make their, uh, point.

The Wentz craze is unlike any in my lifetime as far as Eagles players go. So much so that it has no barriers.

Nope. No sticking within city limits, or just within the region. It’s gone national. Hell, it’s gone international.

To where any amount of money paid to him is considered a bargain … and any Prescott may want from Jerry Jones in Dallas even remotely in the same ballpark is labeled an outrage.

​More? Unthinkable.

It’s beyond laughable. Just a complete disconnect with what is and has been. All that discarded for what the hope is for the future.

You know, where Wentz is the ultimate superstar and Prescott is, grudgingly at best, OK.

Here’s the deal at this point: No matter how you slice it, or how much you really want it to be otherwise, neither of these guys has proven to be elite or awful for any extended period. They’re both flawed and they’re both talented.

Their legacies are far from the foregone conclusions being put out there en masse.

Besides, all that matters is that they’re both better than Jared Goff. Way better.

​Cue the comedy laugh track.

by Jack Kerwin  |  ydkjack1@gmail.com

Dear Sean Payton:

Feel your pain, buddy, and am sorry for it.

That missed pass-interference call in Sunday’s NFC title game against the Los Angeles Rams … brutal. Just brutal.

It’s the kind of thing that can haunt you, your New Orleans Saints and the rest of Who Dat Nation for an eternity.

Understandably.

But that’s really not what is bothering you, is it?

When you get past the frustration, the pain, the “goddam, we had ’em” teeth-gritting, the reality is … you and your team blew the game, not the officials.

That’s the thing that is eating away at you.

Sure, it’s easy to point the finger at that one play, a third-and-10 pass attempt from Drew Brees to Tommylee Lewis blown up by Rams defensive back Nickell Robey-Coleman is almost cartoonish fashion, a pass interference so obvious that anyone could have called it – yet no official in this game did.

Game, set, match right there, huh, coach? Cost you the game, huh?

If only damn reality didn’t get in the way of such a good gripe.

For starters, the teams were tied 20-all at that point, with 1:48 remaining in regulation. If memory serves, Saints placekicker Will Lutz then drilled a 37-yard field goal to give the hosts a three-point cushion, right?

To me, and am sure you as well, coach, a championship squad shuts the door on the opposition right there and soon commences plans for its second Super Bowl trip in a decade.

Didn’t happen, though, did it?

Nope. Rams went right down the field and kicked the tying field goal.

No biggie, though. Overtime merely gave you, your MVP candidate and your team another opportunity to shine, and ultimately earn that berth to Atlanta.

What’s that … Brees threw a pick on the first possession in the extra frame? Geez, probably still decimated from what didn't get called minutes before, huh?

Well, certainly the defense picked him up, right? That's what title-winning teams do.

Alas, it didn’t. Gave up just enough yardage on the Rams’ ensuing series to pave the way for Greg Zuerlein’s game-winning 57-yard field goal.

Thing is, New Orleans blew this game long before that final kick. Even long before that laughably pathetic non-call.

Championship outfits don’t blow 13-0 first-quarter leads in the playoffs. At home. After they’ve posted a 13-3 mark in the regular season to earn that advantage.

They don’t get outgained 363 yards to 160 after that initial frame, either. With the opposing team’s most lethal weapon riding the bench most of the time.

They certainly don’t have their head coach go into brain-dead mode near the end of regulation and see him call a stupid pass play on first down at the opposing team’s 13-yard line with less than two minutes on the clock when the obvious call there is a run to force the other team to burn a timeout after making a tackle.

The pass, of course, was incomplete … and pretty much encapsulated the entire afternoon for the Saints.

Everything was right there for the taking, and they tossed it away.

Even after a horrible missed call.

When you get past all the bitching, the moaning and the rationalizing, that is what the real issue is.

Right, coach?

A word to the wise: Just deal with it. The denial only delays the healing.

Signed, Your Conscience
 

by Jack Kerwin  |  ydkjack1@gmail.com

It’s fickle. It’s phony. It’s totally Philly.

This farewell to Nick Foles silliness with all the dripping-with-sincerity well-wishers making sure that he, the only quarterback in franchise history to lead the Eagles to a Super Bowl victory, knows that he will forever be … a legend in town.

Puh-leeze.

The majority of people sharing such sentiments were the same ones who either outwardly stated how things would have been even better with Carson Wentz at the helm or inwardly wished Wentz was at the helm because he – not Foles – was their guy.

The memory of what Foles accomplished not only last season, but this one that was careening off the rails for the Eagles until he took over for an injured Wentz yet again, started to fade immeasurably the moment that spot-on pass went right through Alshon Jeffery’s hands and into New Orleans defensive back Marcus Lattimore’s lap to seal an NFC divisional-round clinching victory for the Saints.

You could hear the collective sigh of mindless rationale immediately emanating from Midnight Green Nation, headed by, laughably, the media, across the country – or at least read about it in ridiculously stated code.

The gist of it all: “Well, now we can get back on the path we wanted. With our ‘franchise quarterback’ at the helm.”

Yes, you can … and, at this point, you – and, more importantly, the Eagles – should.

This is the reality: The Eagles have believed in Wentz from Day One. They bent over backward to move up in the 2016 NFL Draft to get him with the No. 2 pick. They traded Sam Bradford the moment it became possible to do so in order to make Wentz the starter. They gave Wentz carte blanche to do whatever he decided was best to do from his first snap.

With that, he has performed well. As well as credited as performing? That’s debatable. Highly debatable. We could argue stats all you want, but they can be skewed. Heck, Wentz was a shell of his 2017 self this past fall, yet his quarterback rating was better in 2018 than it was in his “record-setting” one.

Foles, conversely, has never, ever gained the trust of the Birds’ braintrust. Didn’t matter how well he performed, or what ungodly numbers – or wins – he put up. Or the franchise records he set. When they cast a shadow over anything Wentz did, the Eagles ignored it, or, worse, downplayed it. They, like most fans and media, just chalked it up to “in the moment” momentum, or luck, or magic.

Insulting. Totally. With Eagles head coach Doug Pederson further piling on true lack of appreciation just two days after this title-defense season ended, proclaiming, essentially, he now knows how to handle Wentz better – because, geez, if we can accomplish this, that and the other with a guy like Foles, the mind boggles at what we’ll be able to do with Wentz running the show.

Yeah, coach, get back to me when your boy makes it to the playoffs, and wins a game. Doesn’t even have to win the whole shebang. Just one postseason game.

But, we digress …

Keeping it real, Foles didn’t exactly play stellar in either of the playoff games he started this month. Oh, he performed exceptional right at the outset against Chicago and New Orleans. Then Pederson pulled in the reins, got conservative and reverted to his fetal position of calling on Darren Sproles’ number all too often. Both games.

Doesn’t matter. Even with that, Foles had opportunity to shine, and he didn’t.

Oh, he was directing the Eagles on another thrilling, game-winning drive before Jeffery’s whiff. The masses, incredulously, have somehow skirted over that in their haste to make sure it’s time to move back to Wentz. But, still, Foles was – overall – nothing special against the Bears and Saints.

His efforts paled in comparison to those he gave in last season’s championship run, when he had to throw his way out of Pederson’s “oh, he’s not Carson” shackles to bring Philly its first NFL title since 1960.

The greatness Foles displayed then … that won’t be remembered. It certainly won’t be legendary. Because the Eagles’ organization and the majority of the fan base made that so.

Everything Foles did came with an asterisk attached. Like he didn’t earn it. That he stumbled into it. That everyone else stepped up their game to carry him.

Pretty soon we won’t be hearing Foles’ name linked to Wentz, but, rather, Trent Dilfer.

With those same well-wishing phonies nodding in unknowing unison.

by Jack Kerwin  |  ydkjack1@gmail.com

Don’t mind the high praise for the kid.

Don’t mind declarations of impending NFL greatness for him. Or the favorable comparisons to others, past and present.

Saquon Barkley is a special talent, an elite athlete and, the trigger that pushes all buttons, a tireless workout warrior hellbent on proving doubts, including his own, wrong.

He deserves the attention, the accolades and the faith from his followers.

It’s just you won’t catch me genuflecting at the “best player in the 2018 draft and surefire Hall of Famer” altar anytime soon.

Sorry, just have seen the can’t-miss, chiseled out of granite/faster than a speeding bullet, well, miss before. Quite a lot, actually.

Plus, Barkley – or at least expectation of what he will be – comes with a legit red flag for me, and we’re talking performance between the lines wise, not off-the-field silliness stuff.

What, pray tell, could that possibly be?

Pretty simple. He’s been rubber-stamped as the ultimate, every-down back that any professional team would covet … without showing he is capable of being that.

Oh, he can run, run with power, with speed, with shiftiness. He can catch. He can block. He has shown all that.

In spurts, though. Just spurts.

This is not a wear-down-the-defense kinda guy here, people. Yeah, he looked fantastic in shorts and tank top, strutting that 6-foot, 233-pound frame around the combine. Hell, he looked great in a Penn State uniform, too.

But he never was a start-to-finish player for the Nittany Lions.

He’s a timebomb with no timer – bound to go off for a play, maybe two, in a game and that’s it. There is no consistent production history within the context of most games he has played since departing Whitehall High in the Lehigh Valley.

Now, frankly, that may be enough to satisfy, if not thrill, the New York Giants, their fan base and Barkley worshippers the globe over.

Yo, no doubt home-run hitters are great to have and Barkley certainly is one. It’s just when it comes to projecting a legit future for him, most would be wise to think of him in the Albert Pujols as an Angel mold rather than in the Pujols as a Cardinal vein.

In 38 games in college, including 36 as a starter, Barkley posted 15 games of 100 yards rushing or better. Umm, that’s not a lot for a feature back at that level, regardless of the type of offense.

But it goes beyond that. It even goes beyond him being the second-best player in Penn State’s backfield the last two seasons.

In his final game for the Lions, Barkley went for 137 yards on 18 carries against Washington. Great game, right? Not really. The kid ripped off one great run, a 92-yard touchdown jaunt, and went 17-for-45 the rest of the way.

Against Michigan this past fall, in the “game that sealed the Heisman” that he never won, Barkley busted loose for a 69-yard score on his first carry, then could only muster 39 more yards on his next 14.

Against Ohio State, a 36-yard TD run. The rest: 20 carries for 8 yards.

Against Michigan State, a 36-yard run. The rest: 13 carries, 27 yards.

Against Northwestern, a 53-yard TD run. The rest: 15 for 22.

Against Indiana, he went 20-for-56.

Against Rutgers, 14-for-35.

Yeah, he’s dangerous. He will rip off a long one, either by taking a handoff, hauling in a pass, or, if the Giants dare to allow, by returning a kick.

But he’s not a workhorse. Not in terms of being consistently productive at least.

He will disappear. For long periods of time. In fact, if he doesn’t rip off a long one in a game, his productivity in that game, as history shows, will be nil or not far removed from it.

That is the nature of his game.

So praise him all you want. It’s just you might want to be aware of what, or who, you’re actually praising.
​

by Jack Kerwin  |  ydkjack1@gmail.com

City of Champions now, huh?

Maybe it is time the fan base started to act like it then.

Enough with the whining, the pouting, the crying, the bitching and the moaning all centered – at its most primal, baseline level – on how everyone is out to get us, including the medical staff of the 76ers.

Yeah, OK, no one outside of us shows us any respect.

Why would they? It’s gotta be next to impossible to feel anything other than contempt for a group that forever promotes itself as the best there is and never fails to fall into narcissistic rage should anyone question that, or, heaven forbid, disagree, before fading into a depressive funk.

Yo, Philly, toughen up.

Can’t be crawling into a hole and hatching all kinds of diabolical rationales about how the sports universe is conspiring to cause you – not the teams or the coaches or the players, but you – some undo harm every time the stars don’t align … or require surgery that may cause them to miss time. Perhaps even playoff time.

Enough with the nonsensical, “the Sixers can’t win without Joel Embiid” rants. They’re as inane and uninformed as the same ones screamed in regard to Carson Wentz a few months ago.

All the Eagles did with Wentz out was go 5-1, grab the organization’s first Super Bowl victory and have his replacement, Nick Foles, earn MVP in the NFL’s signature event.

Since Embiid banged heads with Markelle Fultz back on March 28, suffering an orbital-bone fracture to his one eye and undergoing surgery, the Sixers have gone 9-1 and become the most entertaining, free-flowing outfit this side of Golden State.

The one loss came in the last game, so, naturally, everyone is in a panic entering tonight’s Round 3 of this best-of-seven series against Miami.

Frankly, Philly sports fans have been pitching apocalyptic outcomes for the Sixers ever since that collision. Just as they did once Wentz blew out his knee.

Regardless of how much evidence was provided them that, you know what, there really isn’t anything to worry about.

Get it. A great player being lost for something beyond the next timeout can cause some concern among the masses.

But, hey, championship teams find a way – regardless of the obstacle – and when they’re showing everyone, repeatedly, that they’re doing just that, well, then, it seems only right that the, uh, support system would show something more than chicken-hearted faith.

Especially when it is “the best” there is.

Embiid or no Embiid, the Sixers can win this series. Heck, they can win the whole damn shebang.
So save the doomsday talk for something else.

You know, like a potential quarterback controversy brewing now that Foles and Wentz have both confirmed that they are, indeed, human, possessing individual wants and desires and not being cult-like linked to some phony, fan-appeasing “team first, team only” philosophies.​