From confetti to parade babies: Your favorite memories from the 2018 Eagles Super Bowl parade

It was the day Philadelphia had been waiting for — a day that some fans had feared might never come. But when the Eagles finally brought home that long-elusive Lombardi Trophy in 2018, the city erupted in a way only Philly could. It wasn’t just a parade; it was a pilgrimage, a chaotic, joyful, unforgettable communal experience where strangers became best friends and the city — at least for one perfect day — was united in green-and-silver euphoria.

And now, we’re about to do it all over again.

This Friday, Broad Street will once again be a sea of green as another parade rolls through the city, celebrating a championship that feels just as special, just as euphoric, just as Philly.

We asked you to share your best memories from that unforgettable day in 2018, and if history tells us anything, it’s that you do not want to miss it. Because when Philly celebrates, we really celebrate.

Some fans will go to extreme lengths to be there. Just ask Colleen Osborne, whose baby was due on Super Bowl Sunday in 2018. Knowing that if the Birds won, crossing Broad Street would be impossible, she skipped a party in Fairmount. Good call. When the Eagles did win, she and her husband decided to host a parade party in South Philly instead, still waiting for their overdue bundle of joy. But the baby had other plans. In the middle of the night, as the city braced for the biggest celebration in its history, Osborne went into labor and made her way to Pennsylvania Hospital.

Her brother-in-law, who had crashed at their place to avoid traffic, woke up to find himself stranded. With roads shut down and public transportation at a standstill, he did what any logical Philadelphian would do: He bought a bike from a stranger on the street and pedaled to the hospital, where he stood guard to prevent any overzealous revelers from turning the maternity ward into an extension of Broad Street.

For some, the magic of the parade wasn’t just about what happened on the streets but also whom they shared it with. Harry Hurst and his wife took their 2-year-old grandson to Broad Street to witness history. While the crowd roared as Doug Pederson and the team rolled by, little Harry was transfixed by something else entirely — the confetti. Green and silver flakes fluttered around him, a shimmering blizzard of Philly pride. To him, that was the show.

Others took full advantage of the sheer absurdity of the day. Billy Cress recalls “friendly mud wrestling along St. Beatrice Grove along the Parkway.” Because, really, what better way to commemorate the Birds’ first Super Bowl win than by rolling around in the dirt with a bunch of strangers?

Some watched from above. Eric Horvath and his wife, then South Philly residents, had a VIP view from her dad’s 18th-floor apartment at Park Towne Place — where CBS3 was also broadcasting. “Even from that far up, I’ll always remember looking down and saying to myself, ‘Is that Kelce dressed as a Mummer?’”

Ryan Wall, then a La Salle senior, knew the city had claimed his heart for good that day. He and his friends packed into the Broad Street Line before sunrise to snag a good spot on the Parkway, braving the bitter cold with periodic warmth breaks in the Target bathroom — an oasis that, unsurprisingly, was packed. But by the time the DJ blasted “All I Do is Win” and the entire crowd threw their hands up in unison, the cold didn’t matter. “I still listen to the Eagles Parade Playlist on Spotify because it brings back so many great memories.”

And then there was Gayle Morrow, a self-proclaimed short person who had accepted her fate of neck-craning at parades — until Philly did what Philly does best: looked out for its own. “Suddenly this guy told the crowd to move back and let me in front,” she recalled. Not only did she see the parade from City Hall, but her new parade buddies even took a picture for her.

Ala Stanford, the renowned Philadelphia physician and founder of the Black Doctors COVID-19 Consortium, was among the die-hard fans who arrived at 2 a.m., bundled in stadium chairs and blankets, determined to get a front-row spot to hear the team speak. She remembers someone selling cups of Wawa coffee for $5 a pop — because, of course, someone saw a business opportunity. But in the crowd, there was also generosity — fans sharing hand warmers, looking out for each other, proving that while Philly loves a good hustle, it’s also a city that takes care of its own.

Perhaps Tracie Connelly summed it up best: “Everyone is happy and in a good mood. People you don’t know become your best friends!” Of course, she also had some practical Philly parade wisdom to offer: Bring a backpack, wipes, plastic cups, food, and drinks — because once you find your spot, you’re not leaving. And when it’s all over? “Leave immediately following because it gets pretty nasty with a lot of drinking all day.”

Most importantly, she says: “Don’t miss it, you’ll never forget it.”

For some, the memories of the parade live on through a sibling rivalry that transcended fandom. Rick Boyle recalls standing on one side of the street, engaging in an hour-long Eagles chant battle with the crowd across the way. “Our side bellowed out the chant, and the other side tried to get even louder. It went back and forth like that until the Birds’ bus came by.” His brother, James, an artist, ended up illustrating the Eagles’ divisional playoff game day poster years later. A true Philly full-circle moment.

And the moment wasn’t just about fandom — it was about what it meant to be a Philadelphian. Tyquill Williams summed it up best: “My favorite memory was the Jason Kelce speech. He verbally personified everything we embodied as Eagles fans, but most importantly, as Philadelphians. Hungry dogs run faster.”

Well, Philly, it’s time to do it again.

We may not know what this year’s parade will bring — maybe more impromptu mud wrestling, maybe a few more parade babies, maybe another speech for the ages — but we do know this: It will be loud, it will be joyful, and it will be unapologetically Philadelphia.

And though the confetti will eventually settle and Broad Street’s poles will once again be grease-free, one thing remains true: Philly doesn’t just celebrate championships.

It immortalizes them.