Friends, Family, Loved Ones, and Not So Loved Ones,

In an effort to improve my outlook on life and maintain a healthy mental, physical, and spiritual existence, I have decided to apply a key token of wisdom that has been readily dispensed over the course of generations, but rarely heeded. And my time to heed is NOW. In my aimless travels through countless Myspace pages looking for old friends, distant relatives, and Over 50 Latina M.I.L.F.'s, I've concluded that I have all along been missing a vital component to my life and existence. One that I always knew existed, but never gave much thought to (unheeded).

I say now to these purveyors of guidance and enlightenment, those who have been generous and selfless enough to share this wisdom with the world on their Myspace "quote" section. The highlight and attention grabbing centerpiece of all Myspace pages. The quote that makes or breaks your Myspace legacy. I say THANK YOU to you all for what I am about to reveal. From this day forth I, Kris Boyce, shall:

"Live every day as if it were my last"

Just writing those words fills my soul with a warm, tingling feeling second only to a 10 minute orgasm via autoerotic asphyxiation. The quote that thousands upon thousands of Myspace dwellers use to spread the good word of this life lesson. It was now time for me to embrace this philosophy with open arms and figure out how I would live my existence from this day forth. I began to formulate and mold the foundation of my new life...the last day of my life.

As my quest begins to now live these words - to breathe them in and ingest them - the people I encounter on a daily basis will see evident changes in my presence, actions, demeanor and mindset. As I immerse myself in my new and improved way of life, these are but a few of the changes and improvements that lie ahead:

- For those of you who may have wronged me or slighted me in the distant or not-so-distant past, there is a high probability that I will jack you upside the head with the closest blunt object I can get my hands on. You can press charges, whine, cry or complain, but before you do, remember...this is my last day on earth.

Sports...you either love them or you're indifferent to them. There is rarely a wide variation in the social preference and acceptance of sports in our society. There is of course a stigma attached to the stereotypical sports fan that often revolves around testosterone driven, beer drinking sausage fests. When in fact, sports to the typical American male is the epitome of the historic, ever-present "good vs. evil" mantra that drives every story, fantasy, and folklore that has been passed down from generation to generation. It is the outlet of our primitive instincts...the connection to our genealogical past.

The impact of sports to one who possesses such a profound interest in them, can be quite a strong force and have a tremendous impact on the existence of a "die-hard" fan. Usually the connection to a local team is established at birth. As was the case with me. I was born in Philadelphia, PA. 3 days after the Philadelphia Flyers won the Stanley Cup (that's "H-O-C-K-E-Y" to all you southern folk). Everyone I was related to, befriended, acquainted, or didn't even know at all (I was 3 days old for crying out loud!) was a die-hard Philly fan who partied in the streets for a solid week after that game. It was the one thing that could bring together a city of gritty, thick-skinned northerners with a penchant for spite and a thirst for "fuck you".

The baseball Phillies, the football Eagles, the basketball Sixers, and the Flyers. It was your birthright to adopt these teams as your own, and in this city the raw passion and emotion that was poured into them can be downright scary and intimidating. The first ever stadium jail and court was installed in the recently demolished Veterans Stadium as a result of the violent, rambunctious fans that inhabited it. Philly fans are world renowned for their intense passion for their local teams...and their bitter, abusive, and sometimes (often) violent disdain for defeat. Nearly every obscenity in my everyday vernacular was rooted from the disdain of Philly sports fans. The influence 21,000 raving hockey fans screaming "ASSSS HOOOOOLE...ASSSSS HOOOOOOLE..." repeatedly, along with dozens of other "choice words" will have a huge impact on a young impressionable mind. I loved every minute of it. And yes, this may validate the stereotype of "your typical sports fan", and to you I say, fuck off!

I'll never forget when I was 12 years old and attending my first Eagles game. As we walked toward the stadium from the graffiti-laden parking lot under a bridge, there were 2 cars next to the sidewalk that were overturned and burned to a black, charred crisp. And as I looked on in awe, I blurted the first thought that came to my head...

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to downtown Beirut!"

A bunch of people laughed as they trudged through the bitter -10 degree winds, and I felt a sense of pride for making what was at that time a current socially relevant joke that others understood and respected. I was only 12 but I was king before the game started.

The rest of the day was a hazy blur, probably the result of drinking my uncle's beer when he went to take a leak. I took the blame for "spilling it" when he came back to find that it was gone. It was worth the beating I took in the bathroom stall at halftime, and with the buzz I had inherited I didn't feel a thing.

Where am I going with this? That's a damn good question my friend...a question I may not be able to answer at this time, nor in the foreseeable future. But in rereading the aforementioned blurb, I have deduced that I have been born and bred a sports fan who includes sports into his world like an orphan baby who shits gold bricks laying on your doorstep. It's all I know and is the one thing that has been a constant in the ever changing existence I have always known. It is the comfort I find in the midst of the chaos.

And while every team has sucked gigantic, behemoth, aching, pulsating, blue balls in my lifetime...I still seek solace and comfort as I look back on the history of these teams in my lifetime. There were the teams and players that thrived in my early childhood...Bobby Clarke, Bill Bergey, Mike Quick, Mike Schmidt, Pete Rose, Dr. J. There was the era in which me and my little brother grew up, a time that forged the bridge that connected us both for a lifetime. As we all fended for ourselves growing up, sports was the one thing my brother and I had to fall back on and keep us out of trouble. Playing street hockey from sunrise to sunset. Each point in my life is connected to a generation of sports figures and teams.

And so as the remaining few friends depart from what is now the last Eagles game of the season, I look back on the past 3-4 months of a football season that exceeded expectations. A time I will undoubtedly look back upon and remember those who lived the moment of this last game with me, and the dozens before it. A time, a place, a generation...being created to eventually become a memory that defines a portion of my existence. This has been, and always will be sports to me. I always say if it weren't for sports, I'd be in jail.

My football year is done. It is my favorite of them all. Sundays go from the most significant day in the universe at that time, to a ho-hum, lazy, laid-back, easy-going day. Not bad if you really consider it for what it is, but for 20 or so weeks a year, it's the most intense, emotional, primal day of the year.

I'll miss you old friend.