I’d like to take a quick moment to thank so many of you for sharing my blog. And to all of you just joining us, welcome to the blog family! Make sure you subscribe below so I can email you each time I write and post a new blog. I really do believe my blogs can help brighten up our world one reader at a time- so please continue to share my blogs with those you care about.

x’s and o’s, allison

It’s 2 a.m. and I am wide awake. My mind is swirling in a sea of thoughts and emotions. I toss. I turn. I flip my pillow to the chilly side. I meander into the bathroom. I grab my dog and snuggle him up close. When none of that works, I know what needs to happen.

I tiptoe downstairs and brew a fresh pot of coffee, pull out my trusty computer, place my fingers on the keyboard, sit back and let the flood gates open. I’m not surprised words come pouring out of me since I’ve been tearing up for days now. Happy tears, to be sure, yet I’ve found myself just staring off into space. I’ve caught myself shaking my head in disbelief. All this in an effort to wrap my head around this past football season.

This 2024-25 Philadelphia Eagles season began with a tinge of apprehension which was to be expected due to the prior befuddling season. Of course there was fresh merchandise to peruse, new players and staff to meet and bring into the fold. There were the usual number of suspects interested in attending a home game or two with our family. Our tailgate tradition carried on. The games came and games went. We lost some and won a lot. However, nothing felt exceptionally noteworthy.

To know my husband, Jeff, is to love him. He’s a rough, straight-shooting nose to the grindstone kind of guy and coaches the same way. He never fluffs or softens anything he says. That kind of noise usually leaves me weighed down and anxious. I am more of a gentler, positive kind of gal. I’d rather hear nothing than something negative. I’d also rather be pleasantly surprised by good fortune than plummet from high expectations.

So for half of a calendar year, I take my vitamins and what my husband says with a grain of salt. I avoid news media, sports talk radio and keep it short and sweet with people who hope to talk ball with me. This gameplay helps me navigate through the long arduous season. It helps ensure I sidestep some drama, negativity and some unnecessary anxiety. Do not misunderstand, this is not because I don’t care, it’s because I care way too much.

A football season can run anywhere from July-February. During those months, when I look in the mirror, I see a Jack-in-the-Box staring back at me. You know the one, where you crank the handle bit by bit, uncertain of when Jack will randomly pop out of its metal cage and scare the bejesus right out of you. Welp, that’s me. All season long I attempt to keep my anxiety level from cranking up, all in an effort not to spring open. I keep my expectations low and my head down. I celebrate wins, but never too much. The losses are disappointing, but I’m determined not to let them bring me to my knees. I don’t look back nor ahead, but hover right in the week and game at hand. You might be wondering why all this effort Allison? Why not just enjoy it all? It’s simple really, because losing just hurts too much. From my perspective, losing is far more heartbreaking than winning is joyous. Take a moment to reread that line, please, I’ll wait right here.

I know it might seem contradictory, but both events take the same amount of effort yet have polar-opposite outcomes. Think about all the time, studying, practicing and game planning. All of that to either wake each day with a smile on your face or a pit in your stomach. Happiness is much easier to digest and live with, yet the pain of losing is brutal and can be debilitating. It’s the waking up day after day reliving what you wish you could and should have done differently and yes, better. Second guessing every single thing over and over and over again. Doubt and failure are such heavy burdens to carry and affect not just the holder but those around them. And yes, even I, the wife of a football coach, carries some of that burden. I wonder which part of the loss I need to take hold of.

You see, up until recently I was like many fans and believed I was responsible for making my difference. Not sure if it is my “mature” age or the 30 years of experience under my belt, but I have finally come to terms with my influence on the game. Sure, I can scream for our defense until my eyes bulge out of my skull. I will be whisper silent when our offense is on the field. However, as for my toenail polish, lucky pendants and bracelets—they have zero effect on the final score. Those superstitions I see now are to comfort me, help me feel somewhat in control over what’s clearly out of my control.

So as the season rolled on, the critics were deafening, the fans were disappointed and many angry, but the Philadelphia Eagles just tuned it all out and focused on the next game at hand. The season was long, very long actually. Felt as though it might never end. With each additional game my husband would look at me and say, “This could be our last game,” but apparently, he was crying wolf. That is, until the final second of the Super Bowl.

I am still in disbelief. I’ve had time to process the victory, wash the piles of laundry from New Orleans, partake in the parade of a lifetime and respond to endless messages. Now it’s time for our family to get back to a “normal” way of life. We call this season, “Re-entry”. A time to fit our coach back into a routine we created so we could survive without him. It isn’t easy, and sometimes pretty tricky, but thankfully worth it. So today I happily packed up my Jack-in-the-Box. It’s stored out of sight with our stadium blankets and binoculars—at least until next season rolls along.

with a deep breath,

A little thing you should know: Re-entry is no joke. It’s the ebb and flow of feelings and emotions. It’s very similar to constructing a family game plan- respecting the road the family created that got them through the season, but understanding the need to make changes. Perhaps I put the Jack-in-the-Box away too soon?

Allison's Blog