Debbie to Chris:
The very first time we talked on the phone a couple years ago, I don’t think either of us expected to bond over football — you, a 44-year-old man serving a 45-year prison sentence in Washington state, and me, a 59-year-old law professor and mom living in New York City. But as soon as you mentioned the Eagles, everything else faded into the background. Suddenly, we were just two fans talking about our team.
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For me, the Eagles are family. I grew up in Philly, where loving them wasn’t really a choice — it was a birthright. My parents were diehard fans, so I didn’t have a say in the matter. Sundays meant the game was on, and whether they were celebrating or suffering, I was right there with them.
When you and I started talking, it was like stepping back into that world. Fandom creates instant connections. I love how you and I can gab about the Eagles like lifelong friends despite our vastly different backgrounds.
“When I found out you were a lifelong Eagles fan, it was like meeting family.” — Chris Blackwell
When they won the Super Bowl last year, it was one of the greatest moments in Philly sports history. But it was also a hard moment for me personally. My dad had recently passed away, and all I could think about was that he had missed seeing Jalen Hurts set a new Super Bowl record for rushing yards and Saquon Barkley cap off a historic season where he amassed an NFL-record 2,504 rushing yards. The team we had rooted for together my entire life had avenged their narrow 2023 loss to the Chiefs in the grandest way possible with a 40-22 romp, and he wasn’t there to see it.
Watching the Super Bowl last year was also bittersweet because you and I always talked about going to the Super Bowl together one day. After their 10-game winning streak in week 14, we thought maybe, just maybe, that dream was getting a little closer. Then your clemency board approved you for release, and for a moment, it felt real. Like we could actually plan for that future. Like we could be in the stands together, screaming our lungs out for the team we love.
And then the Governor [of Washington] inexplicably denied your clemency. That was a gut punch.
It wasn’t just about the game — it was about everything it represented. It was about hope. And it was about having to put that hope on hold, again. And with Philly sports luck, who knows when we’ll get another shot.
But we’re still here, still talking about the Eagles, still dreaming about that game we’ll go to together. Philly fans understand waiting. We waited decades for a Super Bowl, and now you and I are waiting for that moment when we can finally go together. Last year’s Super Bowl win reminds me to practice patience, embrace resilience, and believe in a future that isn’t guaranteed. Because there’s always another season.
Chris to Debbie:
Long before I even knew it, I was destined to be a Philadelphia Eagles fan. My dad and grandpa, both diehard fans from Philly, made sure of that. I wasn’t born there, but the Eagles became our bond. We rarely talked about much else — just football, the coaches’ mistakes, and which players needed to go. It was one of the few things connecting me to my dad, whose abuse had strained our relationship, and to my grandpa, who lived across the country.
In 2003, when I came to prison for robbing drug dealers and taking a human life, I became even more disconnected from my dad and grandpa. My grandpa passed away, and my dad saw me as a failure. But I held onto the Eagles. It was the one thing they’d given me that I could keep.
The Eagles went to their first Super Bowl in 1981, the year I was born. They lost to the Raiders, and my dad used to joke that my birth had cost them the game. “You can only get so many blessings at once,” he’d say. “I guess you were mine that year.” I could never tell if that was a compliment or if he really would’ve rather the Eagles had won.
“Fandom creates instant connections. I love how you and I can gab about the Eagles like lifelong friends despite our vastly different backgrounds.” — Deborah Zalesne
I remember the heartbreak of Super Bowl XXXIX in 2005, when Donovan McNabb threw that late interception. I cried. And I nearly fought a few Patriots fans — which wouldn’t have been the first time my anger got the best of me when it came to defending the Eagles. At times you would have thought they were my firstborn child the way I defended them. But nothing compared to the joy of our 2017 Super Bowl win. When our defense stripped the ball from Tom Brady, tears ran down my face. It was a moment my grandpa never got to see, but I did, and that win carried me through the years to come.
Somehow, along the way, despite having dropped out of school at a very young age, I became a writer. That’s how I met you, Debbie. When I found out you were a lifelong Eagles fan, it was like meeting family. No matter what we were working on — writing projects or our incarcerated writers’ program — we always circled back to our beloved Birds.
Every season, we told ourselves, “This is our year.” And last year, it actually was. We had the most dominant playoff run I’ve ever seen. By the third quarter of the Super Bowl, up 34-0 on the Chiefs, my heart wanted to explode. The world had counted us out, but like in 2017, we shocked them all.
Christopher Blackwell (@ChrisWBlackwell) is an incarcerated journalist currently serving a 45-year sentence in Washington State. Deborah Zalesne (@DebbieZalesne) is Professor of Law at CUNY School of Law. Blackwell and Zalesne co-wrote Ending Isolation: The Case Against Solitary Confinement (forthcoming from Pluto Press in September 2025).
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