The Philly Phaithful

The National Hustle welcomes Philly Keys to tackle our blog’s third guest post.  Philly Keys is a native Philadelphian who loves sports and now calls Atlanta home.

OK, enough.  Yes, we booed a pathetic, decrepit Santa Claus.  Yes, we booed Michael Irvin as he lay prostrate on the Vet Stadium concrete.  Some of “us” have been known to use vomit as a weapon.  Others have been escorted to a basement prison and convicted by a presiding judge … in our own home stadium.  And yes, Mr. Andrus, our celebrated security personnel have wielded a taser on occasion, to subdue a raucous fan or two, but only when there was no other alternative.

But to use those singular few events, perpetrated by a few bad egg inebriated individuals, to categorize an entire city?  Ridiculous.  That’s like saying the entire city of Tucson should get a bad name because of the streaker ref, or that Detroit should suffer eternal damnation for Kid Rock, or that Atlanta is a hick town because it spawned John Rocker.  Bad examples?  Perhaps, but you get my point.

Philly is a great sports town, from Conshohocken to the Main Line, from West Chester to West Philly, from the Palestra to Ashburn Alley, from Pat’s to Geno’s to Jim’s, from Bull’s BarBQ to Ardmore Pizza (my personal fave).  But we are a long suffering fan base, who continue to expect more from our teams and get less.  We’ve suffered more than our share of stomach punches (via Bill Simmons, @sportsguy33) throughout the years, and we’ve celebrated precious few championships.  So cut us a break, for gosh sakes, and back off these “Philly fans suck” posts.  Yes, the Phillies ended our title drought in 2008, but they’ve turned around and tantalized us now 3 years running, dropping out of baseball’s big dance earlier and earlier each postseason.  You’ve already forgotten the few near misses and the much more frequent ineptitude?  Let’s take a journey back through the past 30 years or so, shall we?

Before 2008, the city’s last championship in the four majors came courtesy of Moses Malone, Dr. J, Mo Cheeks, and the Fo’, Fo’, and Fo’ Sixers (who in actuality won their championship in 1983 in four, five, and four games, despite Moses’ prediction, and didn’t have to face their nemesis, the Celtics, in that year’s playoffs).  Before that, Bob Clark’s “Broad Street Bullies” Flyers grabbed 2 consecutive cups in the mid-70’s, and the Schmidt/Carlton Phils had their salad days of the late ‘70’s/early 80’s, cresting with Tug McGraw’s memorable strikeout in the 6 game Series victory over the Royals and George Brett in 1980.   And oh yeah, the Vermeil Eagles beat the hated Cowboys in the 1981 NFC Championship Game, earning the right to get pummeled by the Raiders in Super Bowl XV.

But then came the epic 25-year drought, unprecedented for a city with one of each of the four majors, during which our teams had their shares of near misses.  To wit:

• The ’93 Phils, who were the idiots before the Red Sox of the mid ‘00’s, reached the Series in 1993.  Kruk, Dykstra, Daulton, Schilling, Wild Thing, Incaviglia, Eisenreich, Hollins … hard to think of a more disheveled, blue collar, workingman’s crew.  The town loved ‘em, at least until Joe Carter hit his bomb in SkyDome in game 6 and gave the series to Toronto.  If that ain’t a stomach punch, I don’t know what is.
• In 2001, the feisty AI, despite his aversion to practice, led the Sixers back (almost) to the promised land, reaching the finals against the Kobe/Shaq Lakers.  His monster Game 1 performance (48 points) forged an improbable 1-0 series lead, but Kobe and Shaq reeled off four straight and that was that.  This one didn’t hurt so bad, because we didn’t have much hope to start with, but as AI would say, “it ain’t about that.”
• Then there was Buddy Ryan, Randall Cunningham, and Reggie White in the ‘90’s.  Perhaps the greatest NFL defense of all time, at least the greatest D to never win a Super Bowl.  Buddy was everyone’s favorite curmudgeon, Reggie at the same time a sack-master and a preacher, and Randall the ultimate weapon.  But Jerome Brown’s untimely death and owner Norman Braman’s incessant parsimony doomed them to failure.  Buddy never won a playoff game, and the team will always be best remembered for its Fog Bowl Failure at Soldier Field.
• And who can forget the close but no cigar Andy Reid/Donovan McNabb era, which tantalized us with what we need the most.  Despite our love affair with the Phils of late, we crave a Super Bowl victory like the addict craves his fix.  Nothing else would taste as nice. Yes, we have our NFC Championship Game appearances … five times, including four in a row from 2002-2005, finally breaking through in that 2005 NFC Champ Game against the Falcons (and Michael Vick, no less), then losing in Boot Bowl to the Patriots in our only Supe appearance since 1981.  I won’t even mention T.O. and the mortal wounds he inflicted on our collective psyche.  Ouch.  Ouch.  And triple ouch.

And that brings us to the recent past, to the Phils’ early exit despite the ballyhooed Four Aces, to the Flyers recent empty Cup Finals appearance after an epic comeback against the Bruins, and to the self-proclaimed Dream Team, which has started off the 2011 NFL season 3-6.  So yes, there is angst in Philly, because the fans are so invested, and have watched their teams achieve so little.  Mock us, ridicule us, even tase us if you must.  But know this … we care.  As much as any fan base in the country.  And we’ll keep coming back.  No matter how hard you punch us.  In the stomach.  Or even a bit lower.  So bring it on.  And whatever you do, don’t send us another sorry excuse for Santa Claus.  We will make him pay.