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It's no surprise, when asked ahead of Super Bowl LIX to describe Saquon Barkley, that A.J. Brown identified the Philadelphia Eagles running back as "one of the best" of his teammates. Because in some respects, they shared a similar story. Two years after Brown was the shiny new toy that helped vault the Eagles to new heights, Barkley served the same purpose, just at a different position, and with arguably even more fireworks.

From the moment he left Penn State, Barkley was heralded as the prospect who would "alter the course of an offense," as NFL Media's scouting report put it. (That report's NFL comparison for the running back, who was then just 21, with no pro experience? Oh, just Barry Sanders, the one-time MVP, four-time rushing champion and universally beloved Detroit Lions great, who made the Hall of Fame despite retiring at 31.)

The New York Giants went against conventional wisdom when they took Barkley second overall in the 2018 draft. Running backs had proven more replaceable than most, often wearing down by the time they were due for a second contract, and besides, the NFL was now a passing league. But if anyone could justify the investment, it was Barkley, whose eruptive burst was even more remarkable considering the 230-pound frame and tree-trunk legs he carried.

In the end, the Giants' problem wasn't so much putting high value on Barkley's otherworldly power; his 2,000 scrimmage yards as a rookie, 229 of which came in his first game against the rival Eagles, confirmed him as a force of nature. New York's problem was failing to properly build around him, forcing his blue No. 26 to duck and weave and sprint around yearly concoctions of mostly incompetent quarterbacking and blocking.

Eventually, as has been well documented, that took its toll on Barkley and his factory-made body. Two games into his third season, he pounded the grass in agony after his knee gave out; he was lost for the year with a torn ACL. Five games into the next season, he badly rolled his ankle. Even after a 2022 rejuvenation that saw him return to form and carry a new Giants regime to a surprise playoff bid, the team had deemed him dispensable.

Now with Eagles, former Chiefs pass rusher happy to be on 'right side' as Philly attempts Super Bowl repeat
Jeff Kerr
Now with Eagles, former Chiefs pass rusher happy to be on 'right side' as Philly attempts Super Bowl repeat

The Philadelphia rebirth

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Rather than commit long-term, the G-Men ultimately let their star ball carrier test the open market to start the 2024 offseason. General manager Joe Schoen played it off as if it were best for Barkley, a Bronx native who'd always longed to finish his career where it started, all while Giants owner John Mara lamented saying goodbye to the franchise's top talent: "I'm going to have a hard time sleeping if Saquon goes to Philadelphia," cameras caught him muttering in HBO's "Hard Knocks."

Barkley, of course, went right to Philadelphia. The move was almost as jarring as the Penn State product going so early in the draft. The Eagles, of all teams, had shied away from paying big bucks to running backs, and their 2017 Super Bowl run saw them rely on a committee of rentals in the backfield, including undrafted rookie Corey Clement. So why the pivot? Why, after coming just short of another Super Bowl win two years earlier, did they feel a running back would be worth their premium investment?

Because Barkley was never just a "running back." He was a superstar without a proper home. A bona fide champion without the adequate help to be labeled one. It turns out Schoen was right, just not in the way he expected: Leaving the Giants was absolutely, positively the best thing for Barkley.

But it was also the best thing for the Eagles. Now their dual-threat quarterback had a legitimate -- no, the NFL's most gifted -- running mate in the backfield, which guaranteed teams would be stretched thin and worn down trying to defend the run. And the long-vaunted offensive line, headlined by gargantuan athletes like Jordan Mailata and Lane Johnson, needed only to spring loose the smallest gap for Barkley to launch from a cannon 60 yards to the end zone.

The sweet reward of transferring his premium talent to a premium destination was infinitely sweeter because of the toil he'd already endured. And, quietly, Barkley had cleared plenty of other hurdles before the football spotlight had found him.

Note: This story is based on reporting from Cody Benjamin's book Flying Through Fire, which chronicles how Eagles standouts turned failure into fortune during the team's Super Bowl run.

Running since childhood

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Before the Giants' unsteady support and the career-threatening injuries and the unfair critiques of the position he played, Barkley first sprinted past a childhood marked by a period of tumult that would've permanently stained some kids' spirit. His father, Alibay, was a direct influence on his sports stardom, but before Barkley was born, his dad was jailed at Rikers Island for a gun charge. Later, when Saquon was about 6, just getting into elementary school, he and his mother and his four siblings were left homeless as Alibay battled a drug addiction. Evicted and unable to find a shelter, they moved around -- relying on friends and family -- for eight months, according to the New York Post.

Barkley has only spoken highly of both his parents, who eventually reunited to ensure their kids had a smarter, safer pathway. But the bumpy beginning seared in him an iron desire to carry himself the right way – in the gym, on the field, in the community, as a father himself.

When the Eagles unlocked him in 2024, they didn't just get one of the best seasons by any player of all time. Yes, Barkley's 2,005 yards rushing were easily the most in franchise history (and the eighth-most in NFL history). And six of his 20 total scores, including playoffs, were home runs of more than 60 yards. And there were weekly hallmark moments along the way, from a backwards hurdle against the Jacksonville Jaguars to a 78-yard dash through the snow against the Los Angeles Rams in the playoffs, when his free hand repeatedly struck his own helmet as he neared the end zone, so fired up by the thunderous roars of the Lincoln Financial Field crowd.

But the Eagles also got an engineer for their locker-room turnaround. A year after barely anyone cracked a smile during the team's deflating 2023 finish, players were infected by Barkley's sideline giddiness. Meanwhile the running back publicly rejected any and all chances to slam the Giants he'd left behind. He happily surrendered countless goal-line opportunities to Hurts and the Eagles' signature quarterback sneak. Finally, when Coach Sirianni asked him to sit out the team's season finale and rest up for the playoffs, despite Barkley having a prime chance to break the league's single-season rushing record and seize football immortality for himself, the first-year Eagle obliged without a fuss.

Why? Because, finally, Barkley wasn't just a crazy athlete, a highlight-reel icon, a Hall of Fame package stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd found a family. He'd found a home. There was no reason to brag, despite the superhuman feats he offered on a weekly basis; there was only reason to be thankful. His historic explosion in green didn't erase the bruises of the past; instead, in many ways, those bruises had prepared him – and opened the right doors – for the comeback.

The Super path forward

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The day before flying to New Orleans for Super Bowl LIX, Barkley met teammate Parris Campbell, who also played for the Giants, for a celebratory dinner. The steaks at DePaul's Table, located just outside the city, were on the house -- anything for a couple of Super Bowl-bound Eagles. And the ex-Giants centered their conversation on the "blessing" of their travels. Campbell, a backup receiver, had contemplated an early retirement after years of injuries and relocations from teams that cut him – "There was times I wanted to give up, quit, not be here" – but stuck around thanks to the gentle prodding of Coach Sirianni, plus an increasingly close relationship with Barkley.

"We had a moment after the NFC Championship," Campbell said. "We were in the locker room, and we just embraced each other, man. We gave each other a big hug. … I mean, you can't draw it up any better. I'm super grateful for the Lord and Him allowing [us] to see everything through. … I feel like adversity is lessons from the Lord. … It just shifts your entire mindset."

As if to confirm it all, the stars did some additional aligning on Super Bowl Sunday, when Campbell was activated and in uniform alongside A.J. Brown, and Barkley celebrated his 28th birthday by holding three special gifts at the end of the night: his 6 year-old daughter, Jada; his 2-year-old son, Saquon Jr.; and the 59th Lombardi Trophy.

Days later, Barkley's smile resurfaced on the other end of a FaceTime call from A.J. Brown, who had kept a personal promise to visit the 10-year-old survivor of a recent Philadelphia-area plane crash. Brown arrived at the hospital bearing the Eagles' trophy, but the visit wasn't complete without the little boy also getting well wishes from Saquon.

Barkley was flying across the country at the time, tied up with media obligations in the wake of his magical finish, but even then, he couldn't help but lend additional favors, declining to appear on "The Tonight Show" unless all five of his offensive linemen could go with him.

"I mean, it's bigger than football," Barkley told CBS Sports of his legacy. "I love the things that I'm able to do on the football field, but I wanna expand and get better at the things I'm able to do off the field. That's how I wanna be remembered: by making an impact in my community. This game is a beautiful thing, with the game that we play and the platform that it allows us to have. You're able to have an impact and change people's lives. It might be one, it might be 10, it might be 100. If I'm able to do that, that would be a great thing for me."

Trouble, it seems, didn't derail one of the Eagles' biggest stars. It helped turn him into such a man. The climb wasn't easy. But it'd been unexpectedly rewarding, not only for Barkley and Brown but for the community touched by their stardom.

It's only fitting, right after the confetti, right after the hospital visit, right after cementing himself as a hero, that Brown proclaimed on Instagram he wasn't yet satisfied, suggesting the euphoria of the Eagles' Super Bowl victory was already wearing off: "It's the hunt that does it for me. It's when the [defensive back] drops his head and surrenders because he can't [mess] with me. The intense battles. Early mornings. Late nights. Sacrifices. I love putting smiles on people's faces, don't get me wrong, but … it's the journey that I love the most."

Of course. How could he and Barkley view it any other way? The journey is what made them. And a single trophy sure didn't change that. It just finally freed them to keep on running.