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Underdogs in every playoff game they played, the Philadelphia Eagles just won the fucking Super Bowl. Their first ever. I still can’t really believe it. Neither can Tom Brady up there.

The 41-33 Eagles win was wildly entertaining, filled with trick plays, missed kicks, two potentially crucial replay reviews, and just one punt all night. A thoroughly memorable, utterly remarkable game, made all the more unlikely by backup QB Nick Foles, having played the three games of his life, winning Super Bowl MVP. Just as everyone predicted.

Brady was fantastic, throwing for a Super Bowl-record 505 yards, but one brutal turnover, a strip-sack by Brandon Graham—the only sack of Brady all night—proved the mortal blow.

Foles was nearly as great. He was 28 for 43 for three touchdowns and one pick, and oh, yeah, one touchdown reception.

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It was the first TD catch by a quarterback in Super Bowl history, and it was part of a showcase for creative, aggressive playcalling by Doug Pederson. Too many teams grab an early lead on these Patriots—the Jaguars two weeks ago, the Falcons last year—and then go conservative, and lose. Not these Eagles. They never let up. This was big-dicked, balls-out football by Foles and Pederson and the Eagles offense, and it might be the only way to beat New England.

The Eagles deserved this. And Eagles fans, if anything can be earned through suffering, deserve this. I can’t imagine what’s happening on Broad Street right now. I hope Philadelphia is still standing in the morning. But also, I hope it’s not.