The first inclination was to jump right in and join the fray. But I stood back. The tableau that was playing out before me was certainly much better from a spectator’s standpoint outside looking in than being in the media mosh pit that encircled Bart, the sheriff from the movie, Blazing Saddles.
Decked in his white cowboy hat, cowboy boots, white pants and a blue jacket, that’s what Jerry Mondesire, the head of the Philadelphia NAACP, looked like. All he was missing was his cohort Mongo and a horse named Trigger. So working off the Blazing Saddles motif, if Tex Mondesire was playing Bart, certainly the media throng surrounding him had to be the myopic townsfolk of Rock Ridge.
They were certainly consumed by the rhetoric Mondesire was spieling. Mondesire and his group of 30-or-so demonstrators said they were there to support Michael Vick. I just couldn’t help but think they were really there to exploit a situation, not there to genuinely support Vick but looking for face time in front of the cameras. But the ones who truly count—you, the sports fans—didn’t have to be told by Mondesire or anyone else that “Mike has a lot of support.”
You showed it with a standing ovation once Vick stepped on the field Thursday night.
But people are enchanted by the word “protesters.” It’s enough to drag out dozens of sportswriters who would otherwise be bored watching a rather mundane late-August, pre-season NFL game out into the streets in search of that emerald nugget of wisdom from a fan, and push a cadre of talking heads spouting the usual drivel, while blinding the occasional waving drunk in the background with blaring klieg lights.
It was what the Eagles created by signing of Vick—a potpourri of protesters protesting for the sake of protesting, sprinkled with old women holding up signs that brought us such fantastic sayings like, “Vick is a Sicko,” “Vick is a murderer,” and “Vick is a psychopath.”
Somewhere in this deluge of faux civic duty and faux outrage, which was nothing more than displaced anger really aimed at the anger the Eagles stirred by some community groups in signing Vick, was a football game. Somewhere it was lost on many on the circus outside was just how the fans inside would react to Vick’s first appearance in an Eagles’ uniform. Ironically, it was his first time back in an NFL uniform since he played for the Atlanta Falcons at the Linc on December 31, 2006, in a 24-17 loss to the Eagles.
And somewhere in all of this someone forgot to give Eagles’ fan—yes, you hateful, angry, evil Philadelphia Eagles’ fans—true, true credit. Somewhere someone forgot to say, “Thanks, you great Philly fans for the standing ovation you gave a guy most so-called pundits expected you to jeer out of the stadium!”
So I’m saying it in caps: WELL DONE EAGLES’ FANS!!!
They didn’t need Tex Mondesire to spell it. They didn’t need the grating sign holders on the corner of Broad and Pattison to berate them with their self-righteousness. They stood and expressed themselves the way they felt.
But what can I say? People like protesters. Certainly the media does—it gives us all something easy to write about, instead of looking under a layer or two to see if there is anything other than the obvious to report. It’s what we like—a good, old-fashioned, down-home protest—1960s style. All that was missing Thursday night were burning bras, platform shoes and Afros. We didn’t get any of that, not even a whiff of it.
It simply came down to a bunch of people wasting their time over nothing. Guess what, folks, Michael Vick is here to stay—at least for this season and possibly beyond.
I counted 48 Vick jerseys Thursday night. There were plenty more. It’s over now. Done with. At least it should be.
Because after all, no pontificating columnist, no protester or self-righteous know-it-all will take Michael Vick out of an Eagles’ uniform anytime soon.
So deal with it. Eagles’ fans have spoken. And they’re the only ones who count!
Joseph Santoliquito is an Emmy Award-nominated writer based in the Philadelphia area who can be contacted
