The other day, I was walking through the bookstore and ended up in the sports section.

Perusing the football biographies but deftly avoiding anything that shouted “Eagles” because I’m not a masochist, I found a volume I’d always meant to read: “When Pride Still Mattered.”

Its subject is arguably the greatest football coach of all time, Vince Lombardi. So I bought it, probably more because of the title than anything else.

Pride doesn’t seem to matter much these days.

After the Eagles completely humiliated themselves, their veteran players and the city that has stayed with them from gory to glory, I tuned into local sports talk radio. And it was good for my soul.

Around 9 a.m., just when I was having that second cup of coffee laced with cyanide, legendary Eagles linebacker Seth Joyner joined the show, and began to give his own critique of what had happened the night before.

I didn’t understand a lot of what he was saying, because as I mentioned before, I’m not about to win a sideline gig for ESPN as their first female diversity hire, i.e. short aging woman.

But something that he said really struck me in the solar plexus,........

© Yuma Sun