So how do you think Buddy Ryan and God are getting along?

I wonder what Buddy Ryan said to St. Peter at the Pearly Gates after passing on to the next life today at 82.

Whatever it was, I’d wager that it was defiantly defensive.

And unapologetic.

Ryan was not a polite man. I don’t know if he was religious, but he sure as hell was no church mouse.

Buddy was all about the B’s.

Buddy Ball.

Bounty Bowl.

Body Bags.

Blitz.

Brutal.

Blunt.

Bully.

Bluster.

Bravado.

Brash.

Bombastic.

Brilliant.

Belligerent.

Buddy never won a Super Bowl as head coach of the Eagles. Hell, he never even won a playoff game in three tries with the Birds, going just 43-35-1 overall while entertaining the media, enchanting the lunch bucket blue collars and feuding with then owner Norman Braman and then Cowboys coach Jimmy Johnson.

But Philly fans loved his swagger and his ferocious defenses that pounded people with jackhammer percussion.

Buddy was a mediocre head coach but a great defensive coordinator, helping Joe Namath win a Super Bowl with the Jets and winning another Super Bowl with the Bears while exchanging daily F You’s with head coach Mike Ditka.

Hard to imagine Buddy being a genteel angel strumming a harp in heaven.

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