Amid the scent of fried chicken wings and the taste of cool suds, the scene could not be more bittersweet. While Canadians across the frozen north turn their weary eyes south of the border for a last glimpse of a sports spectacle to take their minds off a winter barren of their beloved hockey, two transplanted Yankees celebrate perhaps the biggest game of their athletic spectator careers.

For me, a Boston boy, this is the apex of my steady and loyal following of the Hub’s sports scene. After the Red Sox’s epic postseason I now find myself at the forefront of history-in-the-making. The New England Patriots’ 2002 upset over the St. Louis Rams and the Pats’ outlasting the upstart Carolina Panthers in last year’s match cemented that this team was no fluke. Three in four years would voice the word on everyone’s lips: dynasty.

On the other side of the spectrum is Andy, a Philadelphia native whose city’s sporting failures have left this meek citizen of Libertyville grasping at straws. While the Patriots’ first title ended Boston’s championship drought at 16 years, Philadelphia has not raised a winner’s banner since 1983, when Julius Erving led the 76ers to the NBA’s promised land. In fact, all Andy has had to cheer about in his sporting life has been division titles and second-place finishes, leaving him a bitter and resentful individual.

Will Andy finally have his moment in the sun tonight, basking in Philadelphia’s first title of his lifetime, or will he have to again shoulder the brunt of his city’s failures and my incessant gloating?

Pre-game:

6:20: Actor Michael Chiklis claims to be from Boston and introduces the Patriots with the tired refrain, “They’re wiiiicked awesome!” Will Smith does the same for the Eagles, playing up his heritage from the “west side of Philadelphia, born and raised.”

“On the playground is where I spent most of my days!” a delighted bar audience chimes back. “He should have stopped after the Fresh Prince,” I say.

First Quarter:

6:40: A belated kickoff finally comes. The crowd in the stadium lets out a deafening roar for the Eagles kick return; they must outnumber the Patriot fans four to one. The bar is rooting for the underdog, too.

7:11: WHIFF! Terrell Owens of the Eagles corrals a Donovan McNabb throw, and Troy Brown of the Patriots completely misses the tackle. The Eagles have first and goal after that 30-yard gain and Andy is loving this start.

7:17: Two sacks and two retracted turnovers later, McNabb lobs a prayer to receiver Greg Lewis. Safety Rodney Harrison sees it and snatches the interception at the three-yard line. “Bring in Koy Detmer!” Andy screams, facetiously demanding the insertion the Eagle’s backup QB.

Second Quarter:

7:35 A “did that seriously just happen” catch by Todd Pinkston, followed by a McNabb-to-Smith seven-yard touchdown. Andy feigns an orgasm in my face. Eagles 7, Patriots 0.

8:01: No shutout in Jacksonville: Brady to David Givens for a four-yard TD ties the game up. The bar audience’s angry groans drown out my sigh of relief. Eagles 7, Patriots 7.

Half Time:

Tom’s going nuts over Paul McCartney. Bar sings along to “Drive My Car” and “Hey Jude.” Good times. Announcer Joe Buck calls first half “sloppy.” Andy quips, “Your mother’s sloppy.” Laughs all round.

Third Quarter:

8:49: Patriots come out gunning, with Brady connecting with Branch four times for 71 yards, two of them coming on third and long. Linebacker Mike Vrabel culminates the drive with a TD catch. Eagles 7, Patriots 14.

9:07: Eagles are giving up on the running game and using running back Brian Westbrook in the passing attack, where he has done the most damage this season. It shows: McNabb connects with Westbrook three times for 30 yards, the last a threading-the-needle touchdown pass between two Patriot linebackers. Gorgeous play. Eagles 14, Patriots 14.

Fourth Quarter:

9:28: Both Andy and I are quietly sipping our pints and staring intently at the screen. First time in Super Bowl history that the game has been tied going in to the final fifteen. The tension is palpable. Tom breaks the silence: “I hate you, Canadian Tire,” he yells at the screen, “Worse adverts ever!”

9:33: The combo of Corey Dillon and Kevin Faulk account for 61 yards, most of them coming off screens to Faulk as the Pats take advantage of Philly’s blitzes. Dillon leans the extra two yards for the TD. I take this one in, cheering for an obnoxiously long time, just so everyone in the place knows what a champion feels like. Eagles 14, Patriots 21.

9:41: Branch snatches the ball from Eagles corner Sheldon Brown and scampers for a few more in a 19-yard reception. Give the man the MVP. Huge momentum killer, as it puts the Patriots into Adam Vinatieri territory. Four plays later, New England’s clutch kicker nails the 22-yarder. Eagles 14, Patriots 24.

9:47: “If the Eagles score this drive, there’s a chance,” Andy says, concern draped over his face. Owens revives his title hopes with a 36-yard grab-and-go. McNabb then overthrows the ball into linebacker Tedy Bruschi hands. Game over?

10:03: “AHHH! TWO-MINUTE DRILL! COME ON!” Andy shouts at the screen. Eagles are showing no urgency this drive. Crowd finally perks up thanks to a 30-yard McNabb TD pass to Lewis. Too little, too late? Eagles 21, Patriots 24.

10:15: Under a minute left and the Eagles are pinned in their five. Andy is stoic in his silence, his green Phillies baseball cap over the lower half of his face, wide-eyes peering over, hoping for a miracle. McNabb drops back, throws a laser to the middle of the field…picked off by Harrison. Brady comes out for the knee. Game Over. Eagles 21, Patriots 24.

While the barflies shake off the game, their short-lived bandwagoning behind them, Andy fails to take the loss in similar stride. The abusive relationship he has been birthed into leaves him foul mouthed and ill tempered. “I just haven’t known anything else,” he whimpers.

For me, this is icing on the cake. A Red Sox World Series title in my lifetime is more than thousands before me received. A Patriot dynasty on top of that? It is like having lobster stuffed with steak: sheer fan decadence.