The following is the second in a multipart explanation of what it's like to be a Philly fan living on the West Coast. If you missed the first part, you can read it here.
Once the glory of the World Series wore off, it was quickly into Eagles time, another amazing high. Again I was 3000 miles away but beating
anywhere, anytime, anyhow and any way is a plus. But then, those fucking Raiders showed up and the Birds didn't (for the first half) and another big hole in my heart opened. Only good thing about that season is this picture of my son that always makes me smile. Dallas
Then we get to 1986, after being badgered by my ex-wife with 3AM phone calls, I transfer to the
area which I now call home. Some sanity right? BONG... WRONG. So I no longer drive 500 miles to see my kids every 6 weeks. Instead I get them every weekend. Most would be happy right? Well after being raped for child support, I could only afford a studio apt lol. But we huddled together and made it work and had a ton of fun. Managed to take my son to a couple Suns games, he was happy. Life moves on and a few years later, I got married again. Now with step children we have a house full, and I couldn't manage to make any of them a Philly fan. Take my word for it, frustrating as hell. I added my 3rd daughter in 1991, complete cutie pie, but no sports freak. Am I doomed? Phoenix
Bill Scardefield, AKA netfather