And when they look at Brian Dawkins, what they see is themselves.
Thirteen years. It is a long time to be carrying a municipal legacy onto the field every week. It is forever, in many ways - and Dawkins will be a forever kind of player for this franchise, cherished, remembered, all of that, long after the No. 20 is put away.
Part of it is because he has been so good, a seven-time Pro Bowler, the best safety in the history of the franchise. Part of it is because of how hard he hits people, how he just pulverizes them, even now. Long after the details are forgotten, the visceral remains. You wince when Dawkins really launches himself at somebody. That is what people will always remember - the wince, and then the wow.
But it is more than that - and, no, not that ridiculous, indescribable routine he goes through when he emerges from the tunnel and goes onto the field. It is simpler than that. It is visible passion, visible to all.
No Eagles fan can possibly doubt that Dawkins cares more than they do. That's it. That is the connection between a man and a city. That is the bond.
"It makes me feel good, it really does," Dawkins said the other day, when the subject came up. "Because . . . I kind of know what they feel for the most part. Now, obviously, I haven't been here all my life, but I've been around here long enough to understand how bad they want another championship here, especially football, and how passionate they are about it and the attitude they have as far as not being ashamed to speak their mind, not being ashamed to have a good time, and really, having a you-give-everything-you've-got mentality. Whatever it is, you give what you've got."
