Four games into 2006, Terrell Owens screeched his way out of Lincoln Financial Field, distraught with and disgusted by his Dallas Cowboys.
Notre Dame quarterback Demetrius Jones started the season opener and bolted 2 weeks later.
In Nebraska, Bill
Callahan is the only man in an entire state endorsing Bill Callahan for head coach.
Heck, the Flyers ran beloved Broad Street Bully Bill Barber from behind the bench.
It happens everywhere but in the building where the group lobotomy is handed out with the uniform. Say what you want about the Eagles' play-calling, offensive
ineptitude, quarterback, wide receivers, linebackers, secondary, punter, returners, cheerleaders, parking prices, concession options and de-inking of Signman (and wouldn't he be a welcome diversion right now?).
They do control the groupthink well.
The chances of finger-pointing among the T.O.-less Eagles are about as good as Andy Reid doing standup.
"We don't do that," offensive coordinator Marty Mornhinweg said (finger-point, not standup). "We don't whine or cry or point fingers or anything. We admit our mistakes and find a solution and we
correct it and move on. That's how we
approach things. We don't care who gets credit when we do well and we all take
responsibility when things are going poorly. We're 3-5 at the midway point, and
we've got a lot of football ahead of us."
Some might argue the Eagles right now more closely resemble ostriches, failing and refusing to see the disaster that is laid right before them. Their all-out refusal to confront the problem, critics would argue, is like an alcoholic failing to take the first step on the road to sobriety.
But the Eagles counter they aren't admitting
disaster because they still see a glimmer of hope. They counter with the 2006 season, an oft-mentioned revival these days.
Labeled roadkill after Donovan McNabb blew out his knee, the Eagles
instead circled the
