OK, the Eagles no longer have even the thinnest shadow of a life this season.
Their season is turning into something despicable.
Rookie QB Carson Wentz is dissolving before our eyes.
After Sunday’s coyote-ugly 32-14 loss to the Bengals, it now appears it’s going to be a stark winter.
The offense has a paucity of talent, excelling only in making false-start and motion penalties. You can’t find a tourniquet big enough to apply to the hemorrhage that is the offensive line. The receivers couldn’t get separation even if they were wielding jousting poles.
The defense is soft, pliant and plodding, obviously not capture-and-punish invaders. At this point they likely could be stabbed to death with a feather.
Wentz, with a supporting cast that sucks more than disco music, is regressing. He is not seeing the field. His accuracy is evaporating. He is confused in his pre-snap reads and overwhelmed by the speed of the game. He looks lost, like a hick from North Dakota State in the big city. He seems doomed to an endless string of Proustian analyses.
If they unravel like cheap rayon the remainder of the season, it may be back to the infamous and proverbial drawing board.
Memo to all the chatterboxes — hosts and call-in guests — on WIP and The Fanatic: You’re wasting your lives talking Eagles football 24/7 365 days a year.
Until the Birds start to walk the walk, why bother with talking the talk?
There are more interesting subjects to discuss, more riveting and entertaining topics like tips on growing rhododendrons or stopping sinus drainage.
Mum should be the word on the Eagles. And if that is too extreme, at least be as quiet as a low tide when discussing them.
That’s because the Eagles have a talent gap. They don’t have enough talent or depth to compete with the NFL elite.
That was blatantly apparent in Sunday’s 26-15 loss to the Seattle Seahawks at CenturyLink Field.
Two areas especially worthy of criticism are their wide receivers (amazing they even manage to catch flights to and from away games) and their defensive backs (who are as about as nimble in space as pregnant dairy cows).
Until Mighty Howie Roseman puts some more muscle on the Eagles’ roster, their fans — especially their season ticketholders — are getting fleeced.
It wasn’t an exquisite smorgasbord abounding with magnificence.
It wasn’t a work of art.
Then again, NFL games are played in stadiums, not in museums.
Too many stupid penalties again, too many crucial drops, too many poor coaching decisions again … but no matter.
The Eagles in spite of themselves snapped a two-game losing streak and iced the red-hot Falcons 24-15 Sunday, improving to 5-4 overall and 4-0 at the Linc.
The Eagles now have beaten three teams that visited the Linc with winning records.
Suddenly Eagles fans have bellowed up from the bowels of deep depression.
Philadelphia won because they held the Falcons, who came into the game with the NFL’s second-ranked offense, to 303 yards and one touchdown.
The Eagles’ offensive and defensive lines won their respective wars of muscle and mayhem and they showed a more balanced attack, rushing for 207 yards — 108 of them by Ryan Mathews.
Philly also followed the narrative of their season — play up to the good teams and play down to the bad teams.
Leave it to the ol’ Zekester to spot a trend.
OK, the Cubs won the World Series and Donald Trump won the presidency.
Hell has frozen over.
Sorry for the delayed comment on both events, but I had trouble thawing my fingers so I could type.
That sizzling sound you hear is not an order of fajitas being delivered to your table.
That’s the Eagles flaming out after a 3-0 start, scorching any talk for now about a division title or wild card playoff spot after falling to 4-4 overall and 0-3 in the NFC East.
Here’s my molten take served in a cast-iron skillet (and I’m quite certain I’m not the only one with this piping-hot opinion):
Birds rookie head coach Doug Pederson blew it in a 28-23 loss to the Giants Sunday in East Rutherford, NJ.
Perhaps distracted by the news that the FBI has given Hillary Clinton another pass on her emails, Pederson passed on two field-goal attempts in the second quarter and watched his offense fail to convert fourth downs because of his inability to call a play appropriate for the situation.
Rookie quarterback Carson Wentz was another responsible culprit, firing high most of the afternoon. Two overthrown Wentz balls led to interceptions that the spotted New York to an early 14-0 lead.
Wentz had a chance to win it at the end but his final pass soared over Jordan Matthews. It was a fourth down in the fourth quarter and it was the fourth game for Wentz to try to pull off late-game heroics. Instead, it ended with his fourth loss.
Spotting a trend?
Wentz, who somehow threw for 364 yards but no touchdowns on 27 for 47, had missed another earlier touchdown opportunity when he overthrew the 6-5 Dorial Green-Beckham at the goal line. I suppose it was DGB’s fault for not being 7-5.
There’s a reason they call them rookie mistakes — whether it’s the head coach or the QB.
Happy Halloween, everybody.
Now down to business.
Misery loves company.
Hillary Clinton, meet the Philadelphia Eagles.
You both have something in common: Trying not to burn down to ash.
Donald Trump has been shouting that the presidential election is rigged and that there is a vast conspiracy of demented folks out there who want to nail him to the nearest backboard and dunk on him.
You know why?
Because Trump’s worst nightmare — short of running out of trophy wives — is having his celebrity wane, his star dimmed.
He fears a stinging defeat to Hillary Clinton would do just that.
Five hours of conversation with Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter Michael D’Antonio two years ago reveal a powerful driving force emerging from Trump — his deep-seated fear of public embarrassment.
Strange. His undisciplined behavior on the campaign trail would indicate otherwise.
I guess embarrassment is in the eye of the beholder.
The recordings of those conversations reportedly reveal a man who is fixated on his own celebrity, anxious about losing his status and contemptuous of those who fall from grace. They capture the visceral pleasure he derives from fighting, his willful lack of interest in history, his reluctance to reflect on his life and his belief that most people do not deserve his respect.
You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.
The transcripts of those recordings have been playing out in real time throughout this debacle of a presidential race.