Not an Eagles fan, not a football fan, not a professional sports fan, really. We are more into collegiate football, but I have to jump on the Eagles bandwagon just a tiny bit. It would be un-Pennsylvanian not to.

It’s always great when the hometown team wins, and any underdog story appeals to me as a coach.

Watching our friends and family go into major hyper-overdrive over the Birds has been contagious. (B, I really hope you found K’s stash of green face paint and hair spray!)

I don’t know if it’s the middle school era or the tween boy era, but A proclaimed his allegiance to the Eagles a while ago, and other than the infamous cellphone, an Eagles hat was the only thing on his Christmas list this year.

A few years ago, I may have retained some of my New England ties and liked the Pats just a tiny bit, but Deflate-gate soured me on them, and I’m also kind of partial to the “other” hometown team being the only ones with six rings. So, our house was definitely leaning green for the evening.

I was excited for Pink. She’s one of my favorite artists, and I had high hopes that we’d have a new iconic version of the national anthem to update the Whitney Houston version, but it seems that the flu had other plans.

I was also excited for the commercials, and although I thought they were a little lackluster this year, I’m glad Tide got the message out that it’s for washing clothes and not snacking.

I love a good 1980s movie reference, and anyone trying to channel Patrick Swayze, no matter how hilariously unsuccessfully, earns my appreciation. I really can’t decide if the Giants’ “Dirty Dancing” commercial was really the best commercial ever, or if the other ones were just that unimpressive.

Other than that, I think I learned that Keanu Reeves has a motorcycle company and that Budweiser doesn’t do Clydesdale ads anymore. Bummer. Hopefully next year’s will be better.

The kids were excited for the frozen appetizer buffet that we indulge in annually, as well as the living room picnic that only happens three or four times a year. Traditionally, I let them run wild in the frozen food aisle and pick out pizza rolls, pizza bites, pizza bagels, or any of the other 800 iterations of pizza that we usually never eat, and then toss in some mozzarella sticks, poppers, chicken fingers and a pierogi or two.

Sunday’s awful weather resulted in the cancellation of a wrestling match, leaving me with an extra 10 pounds of taco meat, some of which turned into nachos grande. For future reference, nachos grande are not a very good living room picnic food.

The Wonderful Husband was excited for a night off, parked on the couch and the ice cream brownie sundaes that came out after half time. Super Bowl Sunday is his annual kickoff to binge before Ash Wednesday, and he got things off to a good start.

As the game progressed, he was also happy to see that the players made the one NFL game he watches a year a good one. One of the very first Super Bowls we watched together back in the day was the infamous Justin Timberlake/Janet Jackson episode, so we both appreciated the fact that JT is now a middle-aged man, married with a kid and he sort of looked and dressed like one.

He can still dance better than most teenagers I know, though, so at least he has that going for him.

I also learned who Cris Collinsworth is, and I have to say, not a fan. It’s pretty bad when three kids who never watch football decide by half time that “the guy announcing for this game” is a real jerk.

The next day, A asked me if I had heard that Tom Brady wouldn’t shake Nick Foles’ hand. I said that I had heard that, and I was reminded how impressionable kids are and how much influence these “heroes” have over them, even if only for a few hours of a game once a year.

A has been intently following the behavior of the infamous Philly fans in the news. I’ve had to explain the point of “greasing poles” to them several times.

“But why would anyone think climbing a pole is a good idea?”

I still don’t have an answer for that one.

Congratulations, Eagles fans. It’s was a long time in the making and well-deserved. Maybe this will take the edge off your penchant to overreact in the face of victory, or loss. As far as I go, I’m going to go back to my regularly scheduled winter sports of wrestling and swimming, and looking forward to that eternal harbinger of spring, baseball.

Is it too soon to start rooting for the Phillies?

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.