April 9, 2010
Dearest Donovan,
I received a text on Easter that read: "Sad day for the Eagles."
I immediately turned on ESPN, hoping that my little bro' wasn't referring to a trade involving you. But he was. And it was, indeed, a sad day for the Eagles.
You see, I've been watching football -- I mean really watching football -- for half of my twenty-two years on Earth. And of all those years, you're the only quarterback my home team has ever called their starter.
Sure, I remember sitting in the backseat of the car when I was young, the daily topic of conversation on WIP revolving around Randall Cunningham. And who can forget when Ricky Watters and Charlie Garner -- the original Thunder and Lightning -- were running wild?
I was just too young back then, preoccupied with my unrealistic dreams of pitching in the majors, too busy being a kid, playing Sega Genesis for hours on end.
One of my earliest memories -- vivid memories -- dates back to the '99 Draft, when a host of hysterical (not to mention misguided) Philly fans booed the fact that Big Red & Co. chose you over Ricky Williams.
As they say, the rest is history.
In the years since, this franchise has not only been one of the most consistent in the NFL, but it's also been a great source of pride for Philadelphia sports fans everywhere. And whether or not the nay-sayers want to admit it, you're a huge reason why.
They knocked you for your supposed lack of accuracy, for getting injured every few years, for being "too laid-back" and "too muscular," and for never winning a championship.
And while very few will admit it, many knocked you because of the color of your skin.
However, the numbers speak for themselves: a higher career passer rating than Marino, Kelly, and Staubach -- a higher career completion percentage than Unitas, Elway, and Moon -- and, up until two years ago, the greatest career touchdown-to-interception ratio in history.
But in Philadelphia, it never seemed to be enough. Many fans believed you needed to win a championship to validate your career.
I was not one of those fans.
Is Dan Marino -- a man with identical career numbers and Hall of Fame status -- considered a bum for not winning a Super Bowl? Of course not.
Then again, this wouldn't be the first time that bitter Philly fans fail to see the big picture: Many of them didn't like Mike Schmidt, thought Bobby Clarke was a prick, and believed that Allen Iverson was nothing but a thug during his first stint in Philadelphia.
Then, in typical Philly fashion, these cowardly fans were back on the bandwagon.
Today each of those names are considered among the few greatest in the rich history of Philadelphia sports. In fact, their names are synonymous with the teams for which they competed.
Someday, yours will be, too. You're not only the best quarterback in Philadelphia Eagles history, but I'd argue you're among the greatest in League history.
I'll never forget sitting in the rain at the Vet with my dad, watching you pick apart the Cardinals on a broken fibula. I'll never forget 4th and 26, or your ridiculous numbers the following season, the only year you ever played with an All-Pro wideout.
I appreciate the hard work you put in during your eleven seasons in Philadelphia. I appreciate you keeping us in contention for so long, and for not complaining about your subpar help. I appreciate you for being a class act, for having a sense of humor, and for being a leader/mentor to all the young talent you left behind.
I promise: someday my brethren will appreciate you, too.
For now, I wish you the best of luck (and health) over the remainder of your career. And if the Eagles struggle in the near future, I'm rooting for the Redskins to win it all. You deserve it, man.
Many Thanks,
Kyle T. Rounds
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