Dungy, a Promise Keeper who writes a blog on AllProDad.com, tragically lost his 18-year-old son James to suicide 3½ years ago. Dungy, who by virtually every account is one of the thoroughly good guys, wasn’t able to help his own son but now he’s there for Michael Vick.

Vick is his personal project, his crusade, through which he hopes to somehow cleanse, somehow make up for, somehow resolve… something.

Vick, we’re being told, deserves a second chance. Even though his second chance, a second chance at life, was his release from prison. He even could have played pro football. The upstart United Football League, which carries neither the prominence nor the ties to a community that an NFL franchise does, was willing to pay him the same millions. But apparently that option, even in the short term, wasn’t good enough.

The truth is that nothing, not even saving Michael Vick, will bring Tony’s son back. And nothing will make up for the guilt Dad feels.

That guilt is there to stay. Forever.

Do I blame Dungy for his son’s death? Absolutely not, so don’t misinterpret my words. But I’m sure he blames himself, fair or not, because he loved his son. I sympathize with Dungy and his unthinkable emotional torment.

But what about the people who can’t run fast, who can’t out-juke a linebacker? Do they get the same kind of accountability-free “second chance” Vick is getting after such a hideous offense? Of course not. And they shouldn’t, just like Vick shouldn’t.

That’s the only reason that Vick stepped out of prison and into a $1.6 million contract with your Philadelphia Eagles. Not because of any so-called deserved second chance, but because he can run fast.

And with the revered Dungy by his side as he tried to fake and spin his way back into the NFL, you know Vick was thinking, “Man, I’m in there now! Paydirt.”

Let’s be clear. Lots of NFL players have gotten into trouble, been reckless, been dumb. Sometimes their actions have even had heartrending, fatal consequences, such as in the case of Donte’ Stallworth’s DUI manslaughter case. There is no denying that. But, as I’ve pointed out before, the difference between what Stallworth and others did and what Michael Vick did was their intent. That fact should never be forgotten.

Michael Vick held dogs’ heads under water while they writhed in terror as he drowned them. He intended them to die, deriving pleasure as he felt their lives slip away between his hands. He took helpless dogs out into the woods behind his house and shot them, hung them, electrocuted them, because they didn’t perform to his satisfaction in deadly matches with other dogs.

And this went on for years.

There is no doubt about Vick’s depravity.

Did he serve his time? Yes, he served as much time as Plaxico Burress might serve after stupidly shooting himself in the leg. Now Vick is a free man, free to live life and not abuse animals again. Why does that mean he should be allowed back in the NFL — on my team and representing my hometown?

It’s not about whether or not Vick screws up again; it’s about him being associated with Philadelphia and its football franchise. And it’s not about animal rights groups; it’s about having a conscience. I can’t cheer for Michael Vick. If he scores a touchdown in an Eagles uniform, I’ll feel nauseous.

Even though I’d be cheering for the logo and not the name on the back of the jersey, I can’t cheer for the logo as long as Vick is wearing it. I can’t cheer for it as long as Jeffrey Lurie owns it, as long as Andy Reid and Joe Banner are running it, and as long as Donovan McNabb, who lobbied for Vick to come here, represents it on the field.

Michael Vick is a sociopath who’s not capable of real remorse. Don’t be suckered.

Perhaps you have your own guilt about mistakes you’ve made in your life, so you’re hesitant to be judgmental. I completely understand that, because we all have our baggage. But chances are your mistakes are different than being a sociopath. I bet you’ve never taken your dog out into your back yard, tied a noose around his neck, hung him by a tree limb and watched him struggle and die.

That was an ordinary afternoon for Michael Vick. That psychology doesn’t change.

Or maybe you’ll be content if Vick just “says and does the right things.” Because, after all, he’s fast and also agile. That’s all it took for him to manipulate Dungy, commissioner Roger Goodell, Lurie, Banner, Reid and McNabb — Vick’s latest litter of puppy dogs.

When a franchise wins a major championship, like the Phillies did last year to finally end Philadelphia’s drought, it is as if your whole city wins something. You take pride in it, you walk a little taller. Because your club, in which you have invested time and money and energy, stands at the pinnacle of the sports landscape. Because your team represents your town.

Life is shades of gray, and I’ve overlooked plenty of questionable off-field behavior by plenty of athletes. But if the Eagles win a championship with Michael Vick on the team, I want no part of it.

I don’t want what Dungy is hocking. I don’t believe in Michael Vick. He doesn’t represent me, and I’m not selling my soul for a football title.

Entire Vick press conference
Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie press conference

For more on Jim Johnson, and to share your thoughts, click here.
 

He was a teacher to many players, both on and off the field, and devoted his life to the game of football. He had a positive influence on scores of young men, and leaves behind a wonderful legacy.   —NFL commissioner Roger Goodell
 

I’m not sure there’s a person that I’ve met that isn’t a Jim Johnson fan. He really represented everything this city is all about, with his toughness and grit. That’s the way he fought this cancer.   —Eagles coach Andy Reid
 

He was a tough coach who wasn’t afraid to let you know how he was feeling, but at the same time, he cared about us deeply.   —Former Eagles safety Brian Dawkins
 

I loved Jim Johnson.   —Former Eagles assistant coach John Harbaugh

While Donovan McNabb and Brian Westbrook were marching the Eagles down the field on their first possession, shortly before a DeSean Jackson punt return for a touchdown, Jimmy Rollins belted a leadoff home run.

While Washington chewed up most of the second quarter and part of the third, after the Eagles had decided to stop rushing the ball despite finding early success on the ground, Pat Burrell drilled a three-run homer to left. Jayson Werth followed with a home run, and Burrell later added a solo shot.

And as the Eagles completed one of their most pathetic, disgusting losses of the past two years, the Phillies celebrated on the mound at Miller Park and popped champagne corks in the clubhouse.

Phils starter Joe Blanton, who delivered one of the best performances of his career, earned his stripes to become a true Phillie (you know, like a “true Yankee”) which — believe it or not — actually means something these days.

Maybe it was good that TBS and Major League Baseball dumped all over Philadelphia fans by scheduling the Phillies’ game opposite the Eagles when there was absolutely no reason to do so. What better excuse to flip off the rotten Birds than to watch the Phillies clinch their first appearance in the NLCS in 15 years?

Still, it’s typical of Philadelphia sports: All joy must be tempered by nausea.

You know what? For this week, forget the Eagles. We’ll vent today, but let’s not allow Andy Reid’s lack of passion (“Hrumph, hrumph … It’s my responsibility. We’ll get it fixed.”) and failure to correct the mistakes he’s been making for 10 years to sully the Phillies’ accomplishment. Let’s not allow Donovan McNabb’s symbiotic lack of passion and failure to correct the mistakes he’s been making for 10 years to dull the shine on this Ferrari that is the 2008 Phillies. Let”s not allow the Eagles’ frustrating stubbornness to drag down the optimism the Phillies are creating. 

Not just happy to be here: You kind of figured they wouldn’t sweep the Brewers. Milwaukee has too much heart. But you figured Sunday would be the Phillies’ day. Yet, as exciting as it is to get this far, to be able to play for the National League pennant with a trip to the World Series on the line, you get the feeling this team is quietly focused on the ultimate prize. There’s a maturity about this team, a hard-knocks quality, a bit of a jagged edge that comes from weathering disappointment and controversy. You’ve got to feel good about the Phillies’ chances against the Dodgers.

Quotable: “Thank God the Phillies won. It’s the only thing that will keep a number of Philadelphians from suicide today. It sucked from the beginning to the end.”  —Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell, on the Eagles” loss to the Redskins.

“Hopefully we’re going to turn this town more red than it is green.”  —Phillies pitcher Cole Hamels

Chuck Bednarik was both. So was Reggie White.

Donovan McNabb is neither.

Never mind the fact McNabb is the guy who led the Eagles to four straight conference title games and, when he finally got a good wide receiver, a Super Bowl. Never mind that McNabb is the guy who once played on one leg against the Arizona Cardinals. Never mind that McNabb made it back from ACL surgery in just 9½ months.

None of that matters.

McNabb is also the guy who lost three straight conference championships and choked —literally, when he vomited on the final drive — in the Super Bowl. McNabb is the guy who was too thin-skinned to handle a loudmouthed, prima-donna wide receiver, even if it was the best receiver in the league and the best the Eagles ever had. And McNabb is the guy who failed to hold up for an entire season three of the last five years.

That’s why Sunday’s 33-25 win in Washington will be remembered, if it is remembered at all, for the Eagles’ magnificent goal-line stand at the end of the game (as well as for Joe Gibbs’ head-scratching play calls and mismanagement of timeouts). Never mind that McNabb fought through a mangled shoulder to complete 71 percent of his passes for 251 yards and four touchdowns.

But, as the Eagles try to eke their way to .500 before it’s their turn to face New England, there is at least one guy who appreciates and believes in McNabb, just like he has from day one.

Andy Reid.

Reid — who is so extremely committed to being a winning coach that he has a pair of emotionally neglected adult children in jail to prove it — openly embraced McNabb on the sideline at the end of the game. It has been a difficult time for both men, and after the win, Reid lauded his quarterback’s “gutty” performance.

“There was a lot of love there … a lot of love,” McNabb said of the hug.

Of course there was. If George Bush’s legacy is tied to Iraq, Reid’s legacy is tied to McNabb, at least when it comes to the Eagles. In his first NFL head coaching job, Reid took a perceived risk by drafting the scrambling Syracuse QB in 1999. He made McNabb the cornerstone of his rebuilding of the Eagles and of his own NFL coaching career.

As much as these two men have accomplished in the past eight years, as much as these two truly nice people have done for this franchise and for the fans of this city, the only embrace they feel is from each other.

They are viewed in Philadelphia as the same person. They are talented but not transcendent. They have won here but haven’t won it all. And, most damning, they show very little fire. They are seemingly emotionless, win or lose.

Philadelphia fans are harsh. But the truth is they will put up with not winning for a while, perhaps even longer than they should, if you show that you care.

If you show that you care as much as Philadelphia fans do.

Reid and McNabb simply aren’t that way. There is no throwing of clipboards, no knocking over of podiums, no tirades, no tears, no meltdowns for the ESPN archives, no jubilant screaming, no jumping for joy, no anything. No passion.

That’s why, after eight years and more success than most of the NFL, Reid and McNabb are still outsiders. If they want to be embraced here, they have only one recourse.

To cure the bad blood, all they have to do is something Reggie White never did in Philadelphia, something Buddy Ryan and Dick Vermeil never did here, something no Eagle has done since Bednarik 47 years ago.

Win a championship.

That’s all. You’ll be embraced for life, and for the afterlife.

Trouble is, with the tandem of Reid and McNabb, that’s never going to happen.