I largely avoid the man-church of east coast Sunday football culture by living on the west coast and Europe. However, a football game was exactly what I needed on a recent unexpected, emergency trip to see my family in Philadelphia.

My stepfather and I bundled up and braved the sleet and freezing cold to head to the Lincoln field in Philadelphia. I’ve been to a number of American sporting events, but nothing prepared me for the mania of winter football fanatics. Undeterred by the snow, a gang of drinking, smoking, foul and loud mouthed fans converged on the parking lot blaring classic rock and drinking copious amounts of beer before noon.

It was amazing.

Philadelphia’s relationship to the Eagles is analogous to the Simpsons’/Springfield’s relationship to their team “The Isotopes”; beloved and cheered until they mess up. Then everyone has an opinion. My stepfather and I guzzled beers and pretzels and laughed at the football maniacs around us. Fat old men were angrily shout advice atthe players (as if they could ever attain that level of sportsmanship!) and beer was flying. My favorite fans, however, had fashioned themselves homemade foam cheesesteak hats.