You know the image. A massive human being, dressed like a psychedelic genie from a Delaware County nightmare, screaming into a microphone until his voice literally gives out. He's wearing a green and gold Mummers outfit—specifically from the Avalon String Band’s 2008 "Ire-land of Leprechauns" theme—and he’s shaking the very foundations of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
It’s been years since that February morning in 2018. Yet, the Jason Kelce parade speech remains the gold standard for victory rants.
But here’s the thing: most people remember the "hungry dogs run faster" line and the f-bombs, but they miss why it actually worked. It wasn't just a drunk guy in a funny suit. It was a calculated, deeply personal middle finger to everyone who ever told a group of professional athletes they weren't good enough. Honestly, it changed how Philly sees itself.
The Outfit That Almost Didn't Fit
Let's talk about the suit first. It wasn't planned months in advance. It wasn't a marketing stunt.
Kelce’s long-time barber, Liddy Coyle, has a husband named Bobby. Bobby happens to be the business manager for the Avalon String Band. Kelce wanted to do something "Philadelphia," and you don't get more Philly than the Mummers.
The problem? Jason Kelce is a 295-pound All-Pro center. Mummers are... usually not that size. They had to dig through the archives to find a suit that could actually contain him. They eventually found one that belonged to a guy nicknamed "The Big Smooth" (Jim Crompton). Even then, it was a tight squeeze.
💡 You might also like: Caitlin Clark Shoes 2024: What Most People Get Wrong
When he stepped off that bus, he wasn't just a player. He was a symbol. If you’ve ever been to Broad Street on New Year’s Day, you know that costume represents a very specific kind of blue-collar, sequins-and-strutting defiance. By wearing it, Kelce was saying, "I'm one of you."
Why the Jason Kelce Parade Speech Still Matters
Most victory speeches are boring. They thank the owners, they thank God, they say "we worked hard."
Kelce didn't do that. He went through the roster and the front office like he was reading a list of grievances. He called out the critics who said Doug Pederson was the "least qualified" coach in the league. He brought up Mike Lombardi by name. He listed the players who were told they were too old, too slow, or "didn't have it."
- Howie Roseman: Relinquished of control, put in the "side of the building."
- Jason Peters: Told he was too old.
- LeGarrette Blount: Told he was washed up.
- Nelson Agholor: Told he couldn't catch.
It was a public airing of the "underdog" receipts.
👉 See also: The Youth Football Route Tree: How to Stop Overcomplicating the Passing Game
The phrase "Hungry dogs run faster" wasn't just a catchy slogan. It was a quote from the Eagles' O-line room, credited to coach Jeff Stoutland. Kelce took a private locker room mantra and turned it into the city’s new civic identity.
The Anatomy of a Philly Classic
People think he was just rambling. He wasn't. The speech has a specific rhythm. It starts with the personal struggle of Howie Roseman and builds into a crescendo that encompasses the entire city.
"No one wanted us. No one liked this team. No analyst liked this team to win the Super Bowl. And nobody likes our fans!"
That last line is the kicker. It’s the "No One Likes Us, We Don't Care" mantra that defines the Millwall-inspired chant he led at the end. He didn't just celebrate a trophy; he celebrated the collective "chip on the shoulder" that defines Philadelphia sports.
It was raw. His voice was cracking because he’d been screaming and, let’s be real, probably enjoying a few beers for the previous five miles of the parade route. But the vulnerability of that cracked voice is what made it human. It wasn't a corporate PR script.
The Cultural Shift
Before 2018, Philadelphia had a "waiting for the other shoe to drop" mentality. We were the city of Santa-snowballing and heartbreak.
The Jason Kelce parade speech flipped that. It gave the city permission to be the "villain" and love it. It validated the anger fans felt at being dismissed by national media.
Since that day, the "underdog" mask has become a permanent fixture at Lincoln Financial Field. Even when the Eagles are the favorites, they play like they’re the 6th seed with something to prove. That's the Kelce legacy. It's an attitude that says: if you're going to hate us anyway, we might as well win and make you watch us celebrate.
Practical Takeaways from the "Kelce Method"
Whether you're leading a sports team or a business meeting, there's actually some legit wisdom in how Kelce handled that moment.
- Know your audience. He didn't speak to the NFL Network cameras; he spoke to the people standing in the cold on the Parkway.
- Use the "Receipts." Generic motivation is cheap. Specificity—naming the people who doubted you—is powerful.
- Authenticity beats polish. A perfect, teleprompter speech would have been forgotten in a week. The sequins and the screaming voice are why we're still talking about it years later.
- Connect to local tradition. By embracing the Mummers, he showed he did his homework on the city's soul.
To truly understand the impact, you have to look at what happened when he retired in 2024. He didn't wear the Mummers suit for that, but the tears were the same. The man who screamed at the top of the Art Museum steps is the same man who sobbed while thanking his wife, Kylie, and his brother, Travis.
📖 Related: USL League One Standings: Why Everyone Is Chasing One Knoxville SC
He showed that you can be the loudest, toughest guy in the room and still be the most emotional.
If you're looking to capture some of that energy, start by embracing the "hungry dog" mentality in your own projects. Don't shy away from the critics; use their words as the fuel for your next win. Next time you feel like you're being counted out, remember a guy in a green leprechaun suit once turned "no one likes us" into a championship anthem.
Check out the full video of the speech on the Eagles' official YouTube channel to see the timing and the crowd's reaction—it’s a masterclass in public speaking, even with the bleeps. Stay hungry.