It's 3,500 miles from Philadelphia. But for Eagles fans it feels like home.

The perfect colonial wanderer, Benjamin Franklin, once observed that homes were more than just places, things, and food. “A house is not a home,” he said.

Centuries later, Philadelphia's own accidental British ambassador, JP Teti, learned this too.

If the seat of American power in London is at the embassy, ​​a significant portion of the spirit on Cleveland Street in central London is found, sandwiched between traditional British architecture, and gritty Philly Dive Bar: Pash It is shaped like Canc Avenue. A famous highway in South Philly.

Stepping inside will be transported. Philadelphia school pendants assemble windows. The T-shirt and jersey hang from the rafters. Dollar bill wall with graffiti signatures. Among many manufactured American bars in London, Passyunk Avenue is separated due to the simple fact that it is not a gimmick.

Tety's brainchild, the bar is a kind of mecca for American sports fans, far from home. Pashkank Avenue, cozy, noisy and painting, is cozy, noisy and painted from the obsession of Philadelphia's famous sports, caters to almost anyone who wants to see mainstream American sports. But it has cornered one emerging market. The NFL is gaining popularity among international audiences. Commissioner Roger Goodell said he hopes the league will expand overseas and see the Super Bowl one day plays in Europe.

But such a lofty desire feels like it has been years away from the comfortable perch of the Pashunk Avenue Barstool this week, days before the Philadelphia Eagles marched for a championship rematch with the Kansas City Chiefs. It's there. Sitting in Tchotchkes and trophies is not about soccer or cheesesteaks. It was never about that.

“We're not a sports bar. We're a diving bar.”

Tetty remembers where he was in January 2018 just before Philadelphia's final (and first) Super Bowl victory.

The truck was a short experiment for Tetty, who grew up split between southern New Jersey and South Philadelli. Convinced he could win the city, he left his corporate job in 2016 with gambling that may come across the sparkling charm of Philadelphia's famous sandwiches.

However, sling steaks from the trailer didn't develop the community that Tetty wanted.

“This is not something I imagined,” he recalls thinking back then. “I want to keep them away from cheesesteaks. I'll create a cultural front-post base in the form of a Philadelphia diving bar.”

Despite many pubs in central London, real diving couldn't feel any further. It hasn't stopped many pubs from trying, but the effort often feels like Disneyland American Legion. What's lost is the tested details of time, only once missed, which is what they left the ocean: flickering neon. Soccer in the background. Gummy stools and rudeness take from chatty strangers.

These little touches are taken seriously in Philadelphia, where dive bar culture is in front of the country itself, and words like “grit” and “grime” are less dispar than badges of honor. (Atlantic City bar once sued the Philadelphia magazine after reviewers called it “diving,” according to the magazine's editor, “This is a case of a place where you can't take tributes. ”)

There is a risk of throwing tea into proverbs: pub culture is not the same.

With a new sense of purpose, Tetty rented a space in London's Fitzrovia area in March 2018 and opened its doors. A major artery in South Philly where Rocky Balboa trains and Pat and Geno (overrated) cheesesteakhouses are still fighting a generational war. Teti had bought the name as a website domain on a whim several years ago.

“I don't sell cheesesteaks. For me, it's about sharing the cultural inheritance that made my upbringing special,” Tetty said. It is now one of three (it will soon be four), and despite 11:30pm on the local kickoff time, there is a waiting list for hundreds of deep Sunday's match. This Super Bowl is now quite different from 2018.

“It really shouldn't have survived six months,” Tetty said of his bar. “But that did.”

“This is Philadelphia.

Passyunk Avenue is not just cheesesteak, but as Teti and his lifelong bitter Philadelphia fans say, the Eagles aren't just football. Lombardi is the holy grail rather than the trophy, the end of what can only be described as a tortured emotional pilgrimage. Certainly, the Eagles are less entertainment than religion. As Benjamin Franklin, it is inherent to the city's collective identity as soul music, and is offered throughout the city from two street scratch-up counters.

Mr. Tetty's bar is a loyal pupil. Store late-night licenses to solve the time lag issue for American games outside of business hours. The bar found a Dutch butcher who could slice steak the right way, and developed its own widow when the British food code prevented it from putting in real (?) stuff.

“This is a very specific Americana. Do you know what I mean?” said Jesse Riley, a South Jersey native and cultural director of the franchise. “This is Philadelphia.”

Passyunk Avenue has star-studded authenticity. The Kelse brothers, including Jason of the retired Eagles Center, recorded the “New Heights” podcast, once popular from the bar. Phillies manager Rob Thomson stopped by to draw a pint when he played the series in London last year. Retired Eagles tight end Brent Selek once partyed with the Lombardi Trophy.

But the real qualification for Passyunk Avenue is its walls, and the naked inch is invisible. It's the familiar sea: scribbled messages like “Delco” and “Wooder from Click” in honor of Philadelphia's famous tricky accent. South Jersey Marching Band Jacket. The reusable Wawa shopping bag is completely crumpled as if pulled from the back seat and tucked against the wall.

(A once drunk Chanser, what appeared to outsiders as perhaps a harmless prop, is a stuffed animal head. In fact, it's the Eagles official, which was internationally slandered by Philadelphia fans. It was the donated costume head of mascot Swoop. Online, the regretful man returned his unharmed head the next day.)

Riley said all parts of the decoration were donated. Often, the feeling from the patrons was touched by the feeling they had taken their jerseys out of the back of the bar.

“I worked at several museums,” said Riley, a trade historian. “It feels like I'm building more culture here than I did at the museum I used to work in.”

“Going to the birds”

I wandered to Pashkank Avenue for the first time on Tuesday before the Super Bowl. I left town years ago and trekked regularly to see a big game with my brother. Stym the sea and release this Super Bowl.

The house is not a cheesesteak or a soccer team. Instead, I found it with this Fitzrovia dive subtlety. Reserved only for those who know what to watch: the gentle stretch of “O” changes to “OWH”. A casual “yo” that is like punctuation and parting. A soft “shh” that Teti adds to the second syllable of “Passyunk.”

This is deep for those who have ever left the place they love.

Riley watches Sunday's game on the same '90s starter team jacket she's had for decades. She pulls it away from the chair and displays an internal name tag carrying an echo of childhood graffiti. Teti is in the Leake Street tunnel near the Battersea location on Passyunk Avenue. So they arranged a tailgate style party in honor of the pre-game scene at Lincoln Financial Field, the Eagles' home stadium.

At the bar, we move away from the predictions that are wary of jinxes. I'll be back to the cheesesteak soon, I swear, shove, shove the door into the grey London cold.

“I'm going to birds,” I say over my shoulder.

Behind me, the familiar farewell chorus: go to the bird.