Will the sizzling Eagles be too hot for the Panthers to handle?

The Eagles are 4-1 and a familiar, fundamental impulse stirs within Iggles Nation — the possibilities seem enormous.

And before the Earth turns much farther, will the Birds still be awesome to behold?

Philly plays the 4-1 Panthers Thursday night at Carolina.

After that game, will Carson Wentz & Company still be able to look in the mirror, see that all is good on the march to the Super Bowl, and be pleased?

Nobody, of course, really knows. Which is why they play the game.


Tom Brady, eat your heart out

Carson Wentz had a good Sunday, playing Dodgeball behind his OL while making big throws downfield to lead the Eagles to a 30-17 victory over the Redskins in the season opener.

Cara Mudd also had a good Sunday, winning the Miss America 2018 title.

Who would have thought two North Dakota folks could ascend to such heights? I thought folks there just went hunting and rassled with bears and resembled frozen hams during the winter.

Wentz and Mudd both went to the same high school and she dropped his name in her acceptance speech.

Yep, the epicenter of the universe now is North Dakota.

Pinch me.

Of course Mayweather won and now can open up his own bank. But Father Time was the real winner

The improbable fight had the probable ending Saturday night when Floyd Mayweather, out of a two-year retirement at age 40 to take on UFC 155-pound champion and novice boxer Conor McGregor, won on a 10th-round technical knockout.

The whole farce was illogical.

Mayweather, hardly the greatest fighter of his time anymore as time has sapped the spring in his legs, reached 50-0 and made up to perhaps $300 million for beating a guy who once upon a time shouldn’t have been in the same zip code as Floyd and hardly would have hit him.

The fact that McGregor even had remote success, however fleeting, against Mayweather demonstrated that Mayweather is no longer magnificent.

There was a time when his vaunted and ultra-effective shoulder roll defensive style not only eliminated all potential targets for an opponent, but allowed Mayweather to stay in position for a hard counter when making his opponent miss. Floyd was the master of it.

Mayweather in his prime was a splendidly plumed bird who wrote on the wind a singular kind of poetry of the body. His hands whipped out and back like the pistons of an enormous and magnificent engine. He had lightning in his feet and fire in his hands until they turned brittle with overuse.

His legacy stacks up in the pantheon of the ring, a sensational stylist who always will remain vivid in the folds of time.

Granted, Mayweather exits the fight game with an unblemished record. But undefeated? Only Father Time is undefeated. And Father Time is the guy responsible for the erosion of Mayweather’s once supreme skills.

The super Trump fan who may actually be a Russian bot

I know that this Russian nonsense is just so much fake news because as we all know, the Russians love all Americans as dearly as our president loves the Russians.

Look for Putin to defect to the U.S. any day now. Now there’s real fake news!

Perhaps the only folks Trump loves more than Russians are his 35 million Twitter followers, many of whom have to be briefed on how to eat their cornflakes.

Early Saturday morning Trump tweeted his gratitude to a social media super fan, Nicole Mincey, magnifying her praise of him to his 35 million followers who are stuck to him like Super Glue.

Here’s the problem: There is no evidence the Twitter feed belongs to someone named Nicole Mincey. And the account, according to experts, bears a lot of signs of a Russia-backed disinformation campaign.

Do svidaniya!

The Juice is almost loose

O. J. Simpson became the Juice because, well, you figure it out.

When zooming past and swerving through college and NFL defenses, he was one of the most electric running backs ever.

Then he became a beloved pitchman and actor and became immersed in the media fishbowl.

American loved the Juice. He was affable, charming and apparently did a helluva job of masquerading his dark side.

He squeezed life until the, pardon the pun, juice ran down his arms.

Then he was arrested for and ultimately acquitted in the murder of his ex-wife Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman when his Dream Team lawyers cleverly put the LAPD on trial instead of him in the Riveting Trial of the 20th Century and he became a hated pariah.

His fall from grace was epic in scope and chronicled by the sages for the ages.

It was a travesty the Juice was loose, many folks thought — the same people who were elated when Simpson got an absurd nine to 33-year prison sentence after being convicted in 2008 for an armed heist of his own sports memorabilia in Las Vegas.

That time what happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas.

That sentence didn’t fit the crime, but many thought, as unjust as it was, it served the ultimate justice by putting a killer behind bars.

But soon, no longer. Simpson was granted parole today, effective October 1.

Now 70 and his once Mach 5 speed reduced to a hobbled arthritic gait, O.J. will be shackled by a nest of restrictions while he resumes his search on golf courses for the real killers (Memo to the real killers, if you’re out there: Take up tennis).

On parole, you really are not a free man. One misstep and it’s back in the can for the Juice.

Most of America would welcome that.

Bears train quarterbacks with virtual reality because their real reality sucks

NFL offenses are in a state of constant overdrive.

Scheming ever-more complicated attacks can be addictive, and the cycle feeds on itself.

There is more info than ever for quarterbacks to absorb.

The Chicago Bears have three new QBs on their roster — Mitchell Trubisky, Mike Glennon and Mark Sanchez (remember him?).

Three new quarterbacks means practice reps become even more invaluable.

Not all three will be able to take snaps with the starters so they need to find other ways to develop.

The Bears are expediting the learning process by using virtual reality.

A player can put on a headset and instantly have a 360-degree view of the field.

They can learn to break down different coverages and blitzes without having to put on a helmet.

Why don’t they skip actually playing the game, thus saving brains and ACLs, and simply play Madden NFL 18?