Philadelphia phans heaved a collective sigh on Sunday when the birds botched an easy game against the Bengals. Seriously, Reid? Gadget plays were your best answer? It would seem that a team with as much talent as Philadelphia should be able to pick up the last yard when they’re fourth and goal (of course, we know that’s not the case. We already proved our mettle on that test a week ago.)

And Donovan McNabb, the city collectively shakes its finger at you, even if Ben Roethlisberger doesn’t. Why does a semi-interested transplanted Eagles fan such as myself know the rules for NFL overtime when after ten years of league play, you don’t? (He thought there were two periods. He thought it mattered less that he spent the first sixty minutes of regular play followed by ten minutes of overtime sucking. It didn’t. We tied. We would have tied with another overtime period. It never mattered.)

A tie this week was worse, for many fans, than a loss (and not just because it was against the Bengals). Eagles afficianados have a longstanding sense that if we lose enough of the games that we should be winning, something’ll give. Someone, preferably Jeffrey Lurie, will realize that the Andy-n-Donovan days are over, that the Superbowl shot we had in 2004 was our best bet, and that it’s time to move on. Maybe we’ll bring back the Stars. They were winners.

In the meantime, it’s hard to garner sympathy from other sports fans. After all, the stadium next door to the Linc just saw the fluorescent Liberty Bell ring to celebrate our World Series title. One hundred consecutive seasons of unimaginable baseball mediocrity ended for Philadelphia on October 29. So why does Philadelphia become a baseball town? Why don’t we just get over football for awhile?

For those who’ve never been, the City of Brotherly Love can be charactereized with cheeseteaks, cheap beer, and misery. Andy Reid and his 426 pounds of unfulfilled potential as a coach is a great mascot for city that never really seems to deliver, and relishes in its unhappiness. Philadelphia won’t become a baseball town precisely because the Phillies just did well. Of course we celebrated in the streets when they won. Of course we had a parade. Of course we care that today is the three-week anniversary of our victory.

But up until the moment that we won, we whined. Jamie Moyer is too old. (He is.) Our pitchers aren’t good. (They’re not.) Shane Victorino isn’t fast enough. (False! He’s awesome and steals lots of bases.) Charlie Manuel is only the second-best manager in the league. (Also false! We were robbed by the Cubbies.) Some of our complaints were warranted. After all, it was only a year ago that we celebrated our 10,000th loss, and, let’s be honest, the 2008 World Series would have gone down in history for being the most boring one ever if the last game hadn’t been delayed in the middle because of snow.

We’re a city of masochists. If anything, ticket sales will go up so that more fans have the opportunity to express their distaste for everything the team does in person. Donovan will throw passes to the wrong team, Curtis will drop the ones that get near him, and DeSean will choke on his own arrogance. And the defensive line for the Ravens will clothesline them any time they do anything right next week. And Philadelphia will go on loving to hate the good ol’ Iggles.