It’s baseball season. Time to talk about the national pastime, the Phillies, and their quest to get back to the World Series. Right?
Nah. We will have time for that later. I want to talk about Jason Kelce.
The best center in Eagles’ history retired recently. And he did it in Kelce style.
By style, I mean a cut-off workout shirt and flip-flops.
It wasn’t a Mummers outfit, but it was the next best thing. That is who he is, an everyman who would be a voracious fan if he wasn’t a star player.
He gulped for air as he tried to get out his message to his family, friends, teammates, scribes, and adoring fans.
The tears were heavy, huge droplets splashing all over the desk in front of him. He was offered tissues to mop his face, but a small hand towel was more appropriate to clean up the flood of emotion that accompanies 13 years of service.
He mentioned the Eagles fans and how special they are… IF you play with emotion and let them know that you care as much as they do. The “for who, for what thing” doesn’t play well here. Aaron Rowand smashing his face into the center field fence is the effort that we appreciate.
When the Eagles finished their season in a tailspin, it wasn’t the lack of results that prompted the backlash, it was the perceived lack of effort as the team continued to whiff on tackles and watch their pass rush disappear.
Thirteen years is a long time in the trenches, and Jason Kelce deserved to call it a career on his terms.
You will probably see him on television next season, and of course, the podcast with his brother Travis isn’t going anywhere soon.
But it wouldn’t shock me if he discarded conventional wisdom and toiled in the system as a coach, working the long, hard hours it takes to get the most out of today’s athletes.
One final note, his long-time trainer is battling cancer, and was not able to tape his ankles for the last game at Tampa. So Jason had him do the job one last time before the retirement speech.
When I heard this, I fell in love all over again.
Kelce style. A little sloppy, but very sincere.
Today’s politicians are masters of the flip-flop.
But they don’t wear them nearly as well as number 62.
