By Mike Greger

When the text message buzzed my phone, I had to check the calendar. Was it April Fools’ Day?

No, it was only March 3. We were still a full month away.

Were my friends playing with emotions? … They wouldn’t be that cruel. They knew full well the depth of my admiration for him – and an innocent little man crush. But, there it was, staring me blankly in the face. The full text read: Pete just said we traded shady????!!!!!!!

Hurriedly, I checked the interwebs, specifically Twitter. If the Philly writers were saying it, I could play it off as conjecture. They get scooped all the time.

Nope. Adam Schefter, the Anderson Cooper of ESPN, was reporting it. LeSean McCoy had been traded to the Buffalo Bills.

First, shock. Then, awe – awww shit!

At that very moment in time, I hated Eagles head coach Chip Kelly, a man I had first been so fearful of coming to Philadelphia because of his lack of NFL experience. Recently, Kelly had completely won me over. His rookie season was one of the most exciting football rides this city has been on. His unconventional methods were not only working beyond my wildest audibles, but other teams were adopting them.

Culture over talent and scheme. The Tao of Chip Kelly. All that. I was on board.

But LeSean McCoy? Shady? Arguably, the most exciting running back in the entire NFL.

I needed time to process. I could write a 1,000-word column analyzing the trade, throwing out a plethora of reasons for why it’s dumb to part with the best offensive weapon on your football team. McCoy, 26, is in the prime of his career and rushed for 1,319 yards in what his critics called a down year. Visions of him sledding through the snow against Detroit will dance in my head for eternity, like sugar plums on Christmas Eve.

Conversely, I could write another 1,000-word column explaining why this could turn out to be a brilliant move, a cap-saving one that netted a 24-year-old stud linebacker. Kiko Alonso, the Chuck Norris of the gridiron, recorded 159 tackles as a rookie and might turn out to be the best at his position. If he’s healthy, of course. Which is a very big if for a guy that has endured multiple knee injuries.

I’m not here to talk about the trade. The wound is still too fresh.

What I want to regale you with is the good times, those distinctly Shady memories that nobody should forget. After all, It’s Always Shady in Philadelphia.

Hi, My Name Is

I first met Shady during his rookie season, in 2009, when he was a mere backup to Brian Westbrook. The first time I approached him, just for a few quotes for a story I was working on, he shook my hand and put his arm around me, saying, “Nice to meet you, let’s chat.”

It seems like a normal reaction when you meet someone for the first time, but it’s unusual in the ego-driven clouds that are NFL locker rooms. Players will go out of their way to avoid reporters, not embrace them.

We chatted very briefly, with Shady spewing tributes about Westbrook, one of his favorite players to watch growing up. Westbrook would go on to mentor Shady, even after Shady stole his job. Respect.

The following season, I reached out to David Walker, Shady’s position coach at the University of Pittsburgh. Walker praised his pupil’s work ethic and cut-on-a-dime talent, as any former college coach might hype up his soon-to-be NFL superstar. However, it was what Walker said about Shady’s personality that stuck with me.

He told me Shady was the “class clown” — yes, he put his time in the film room, too – and loved to have a good time, with that trademark smile permanently glued on his cherubic face. Eagles fans saw that for six seasons, perhaps most notably when he paraded around the field with a championship belt after beating the Dallas Cowboys on Sunday Night Football.

Walker was right. Shady was talented, but he was also fun to be around.

Going back to that initial conversation we had, this was the burning question I had for him. This, of all the things I could ask, was what this reporter was dying to know.

Me: Why do they call you Shady?

McCoy: When I was a baby, my mom told me I was a shady looking baby. That’s it.

The Real McCoy

During his first two seasons, McCoy was fairly easy to track down in the locker room. He was always in good spirits, usually laughing with his stallmates or running over to chat with Mike Vick or DeSean Jackson. It seemed like everyone on the team liked Shady, like he was the one who could calm everybody down even when the sky was falling.

There was the time he called Osi Umenyiora “a ballerina.” That was hysterical. There was the time he lost to Vick in the 40-yard dash, then accused Vick of jumping the start, all in good fun. That led to some funny exchanges on Twitter (http://www.nfl.com/news/story/0ap1000000166325/article/michael-vick-still-can-beat-lesean-mccoy-in-a-foot-race). There was the time he stole a Redskins flag out of the stands and wiped his ass with it (http://www.nfl.com/videos/nfl-game-highlights/0ap2000000282754/McCoy-rips-Redskins-flag-from-stands). Seriously, pretty hard to top that.

All Eagles fans have their favorite Shady moment. Mine happened during my last year on the Eagles beat. I was preparing to interview Philly rapper Meek Mill – Nicki Minaj’s new beau, for those hip-hop virgins out there. I’ll save the full transcript for inclusion in a novel I’m working on (shameless plug).

But, in a casual chat between two hip-hop heads, we started ranking our top emcees, with Mychal Kendricks interjecting his opinion. To the surprise of no one in the room, the debate soon came down to Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls. We outlined each rapper’s credentials, taking into consideration everything from their lyrics to how they impacted society.

I gave a slight edge to Tupac; Shady, true to his East Coast roots, took Biggie. We never chatted about football once that day, not a single play or stat was mused. It was one of the best days I’ve ever had as a sports journalist