Philly, we're back together again. And this time, it's forever.
When I left the Eagles in 2020, I said it felt like a breakup. I meant that. You don't just walk away from something that shaped you, challenged you, and held you accountable without feeling like a piece of you was left behind. What I didn't know then was that love doesn't always require proximity. If it's real, it will find its way back. Today, being inducted into the Eagles Hall of Fame feels like finding my way home.
I've always believed my legacy matters more than anything. And when I say legacy, I'm not talking about money or attention. I mean what I leave behind when I'm no longer here. Legacy is like planting a tree that bears fruit long after the planter is gone. To be honored like this, in my first year of eligibility, as the first player from our Super Bowl team to join the Eagles Hall of Fame, is one of the most humbling moments of my life. The seeds I planted long ago are still bearing fruit. I look at the names of Eagles defenders already in the Hall – Brian Dawkins, Reggie White, Eric Allen – men I grew up watching, admiring, and learning from. To sit among them now, no longer as a fan, but as a peer, is a tremendous honor.
When Mr. Lurie brought me into his office and told me I was being inducted into the Eagles' growing list of legends, I didn't know what to say.
Individual awards have always made me uneasy. We love to talk about individual greatness, even though we all know, no one becomes great alone. There's no such thing as self-made. I immediately thought about teammates like Chris Maragos, who changed how I saw myself by reminding me before every game that I was "the best in the business." I thought about the coaches, like Jim Schwartz, who saw me clearly and built around my strengths. I thought about Troy, a custodian at the practice facility, whose attitude and positive energy modeled consistency every single day. I thought about Michelle, my massage therapist, who made sure I never missed a game in my six seasons as an Eagle. And I thought about the fans, who cemented my resolve by never sparing me from critique but always showed me love. If I could, I'd etch all of them into the Hall of Fame right next to me.
I only know one approach to life: In every endeavor, give it your all. And to my delight, every ounce of effort I poured into the team and the city came back to me tenfold in love and respect.
It's one thing to lead a defense. It's another to be considered a leader in a city like Philadelphia. We all know Philadelphians aren't quiet about their opinions. You hold leaders accountable for their effort, their vision, their decision-making, and even their silence. I was no exception. You made it clear that if I was going to be considered great in this city, I had to earn it every single day. Playing here taught me that leaders don't duck the hard questions or shy away from the challenges that arise. Champions stand up when things get loud, messy, or complicated.
This was the standard I tried to hold throughout my years here. Not just on the field, but in the community. I know what this city stands for, and I believe Eagles players should embody those principles: grit, passion, justice, family. This isn't the place where the flashy survive. This is the land of fighters. And I knew that if I fought for you, you'd fight for me. That's what I love about this place and what so many people don't understand. It's this code of honor that defines the City of Brotherly Love.
Back in 2020, when my time as an active Eagle came to an end, I wrote a farewell letter.
"Maybe one day in the future, when I've hung up my cleats, I can be in the company of the Eagles greats."
Today, that day has come.
But the view from here is different than I imagined.
I've had time to reflect on what my legacy in Philadelphia really means. The strength of a legacy isn't tied to whether you are remembered. In fact, my legacy has very little to do with me. Legacy is determined by the people who experience it. It's not about the work you put in or even the results. It's about what that effort means to others. When we see a tree, no one thinks about who planted it; we just appreciate its fruit, its shade, its beauty. I'm proud to know that many of the things I contributed to the culture of this organization and this city are still alive. My legacy continues in the players who've come behind me and the next generation of leaders in Philadelphia. That's why this moment matters, not because I'm being lifted up, but because we can celebrate our shared experience.
To stand on this field again, without pads or a helmet, and still hear the cheers reminds me that the work meant something. That it still means something.
To the many loyal fans: Thank you, for challenging me, for embracing me, for making me one of your own.
To this amazing city: Thank you, for shaping me, sharpening my voice, and showing me how to lead with love and unwavering grit.
To my former teammates, coaches, and staff who walked this journey with me: This honor is ours.
And to the next generation, whether you're in the locker room, in the stands, or in the streets – know this:
The seasons pass and records are broken, but the champions are never forgotten.
Go Birds!
Malcolm Jenkins
