Many Philadelphia Eagles fans will remember the name Malcolm Jenkins with great affection. Jenkins played safety for the Eagles from 2014-2019, which includes the Super Bowl LII win. The football great will also be remembered for the notable work of his Foundation, especially in Camden, where he was honored with the key to the city in 2018. After his retirement three years ago, he took on the role of CEO at Malcolm Inc., and became a sought-after corporate speaker. His bestselling memoir, “What Winners Won’t Tell You: Lessons from a Legendary Defender,” releases in paperback next month. Jenkins chose this excerpt for SJ Mag readers.
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It was the opening week against the Jacksonville Jaguars on a hot September day at Lincoln Financial Field. At halftime, as we made our way to the locker room, down 0–17, the Philly faithful were doing what they do best.
“Boooooooooo! Y’all suck!”
“Get your shit together!”
I thought it was the funniest thing in the world. I walked into the locker room with a full chuckle. I’d decided to take a different approach that season. I’d spent too much time being so caught up in the angst of the games that I’d missed the small details of the environment. In pregame, I didn’t warm up with headphones, not wanting to go through this entire experience without ever once really paying attention to the environment. So I looked up at the banners on either side of the stadium, one representing all of the championship teams that have worn the Eagles uniform, and on the other, the legendary Eagle players that have had their jerseys retired and enshrined forever in Eagles history. You saw the Philly faithful filing in with jerseys of their favorite players, young, current, and old.
I’d started a new routine. As the national anthem played, I’d find three open seats across the stadium. I’d close my eyes and begin to talk to my elders. I imagined my grandmother, Barbara, and both of my grandfathers, Henry and Willie Sr., all watching with the best seats in the house. I asked them for toughness, courage, and love, all of the things that I saw them pour into their own families. Today as the anthem played I wondered if they were proud of me. I felt my eyes water up and my chest fill with pride when I contemplated where I was standing. I was going into my sixth season in the NFL on a new team, and I was ready and prepared to make my name mean something.
As a scene from the movie Rocky played on the big screen and it was time for kickoff, they played the fight song, the fans erupted in “E-A-G-L-E-S! Eagles!” and it was time to go.
We kicked off the ball and the defense took the field. We started the game with the three and out, much to the delight of the fans, but that would be the last time that they would cheer in the first half.
On our first eight offensive possessions, two of the drives ended in fumbles. One ended on an interception, four ended in punts. The last possession ended as time expired for halftime. Defense wasn’t doing that great, either. With all of the turnovers, we gave up seventeen points. And it could have been worse than that. We actually blocked a field goal and they missed another one.
Coming off the field, down seventeen, to the boos of the home crowd, many of my teammates were not as amused as I was. Some of them mumbled things like, “That’s why I hate playing here.”
I was confused by their sensitivity. I even said to two of them that had found comfort in each other’s complaints, “Did you see what we just did? I’d be booing us, too.”
I wanted to boo at us right there in the locker room. What made it worse was that the Jaguars at that time were not a good franchise. The energy in the locker room was quiet and dejected.
But the newcomers—myself, Darren Sproles, and Super Bowl champion special teams guru Chris Maragos—all looked at each other with confusion. We had come from championship-caliber teams that never believed that they were out of a game no matter what the score was. So to see this team on the brink of buckling to the Jaguars was infuriating.
“Yo, Sproles, why these guys acting like bitches? This is the Jaguars.” We began to turn to any player who would listen, who still had a little bit of fight in them, one player at a time. “Do your fucking job, and I promise you, we’ll be fine. If you don’t think we can beat the Jacksonville Jaguars, then our season is over before it’s started. Focus on doing your job one play at a time and we’ll get it done.”
When we came back out for that second half, we never let them score again and scored thirty-four unanswered points, much to the delight of the beloved Eagles fans.
