In the NFL, every snap is an invitation to brutality.
The rain of concussive blows transforms the strongest limbs and sinew into quivering, shredded protoplasm.
Once magnificent bodies hollowed by injury.
Gruesome physical trauma is not the only tribulation NFL players are subjected to.
The emotional trauma of trying to perform at the highest levels in a cauldron bubbling over with toxic pressure hollows once stout minds.
Survive and thrive in the midst of these trials and you can pocket riches and adulation, albeit relatively fleeting.
The effect is exponential if you are a golden-armed quarterback.
The Eagles’ Nick Foles now stands on the threshold of such a plush opportunity.
But it isn’t exactly like plucking low-hanging fruit.
Concocting a sequel to his do-you-freakin’-believe-this? 2013 season is akin to walking across a tightrope with the soles of your shoes slathered in Crisco.
Not to mention a little itty bitty thing like keeping most of his body parts intact.
If Foles truly is the anointed St. Nick, then he too could reap the blockbuster contracts next offseason that the Bengals and 49ers lavished on Andy Dalton and Colin Kaepernick, respectively.
Fortunately, Foles seems more laid back than Huck Finn on a Mississippi raft.
The pressure likely won’t fold, spindle or mutilate him.
Let us pray that neither will defensive ends and blitzing linebackers spewing fumes of destruction.