Best Place to Make Out. Ever.

On Broad Street in Philadelphia……

For the

Philadelphia Phillies

World Series

Championship

Parade!

.

WE WIN!!!!!!

.

Holy. Mackeral.

If the Phillies win the World Series, I might actually cry. How funny/sad/stupid/amazing is that?

I remember 1980……. please! PLEASE!

Damnit to all heck…err I mean Yay!

I woke up this morning with a very odd feeling. 

I wasn’t bitter and angry. 

I mean, don’t get me wrong, the first thought that popped into my head when I woke up at 6am was: “!%@#$!” – but then I realized something was different today….

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You see, I grew up outside of Philadelphia, and have been a die-hard Phillies, Eagles, Sixers, & Flyers fan my whole life.  Maybe not one of the super-crazy-nutjobs who only own sports branded furniture, such as:

or

 

But definitely a big-time fan.  A fan who has lived through ALL of the highs and lows of the teams.

(editors note: The word “highs” was added during editing to help ensure the accuracy of this post.  The editors feel that there must be lost documentation somewhere that at least 1 major Philadelphia sports team has had a high sometime in the past,  we just have yet to locate that proof.)

Flash back to the 1980’s, and you’d see me going to Veterans Stadium every summer with my dad to watch the Phillies lose.  You’d see me getting excited everytime a foul ball came flying someplace near us, and cheering everytime my favorite player hit a home run.  I loved getting a huge hotdog and soda, and then watching all the drunk people around us pummeling some deserving  innocent fans of the opposing team into oblivion.  It was a great time. 

Experts say that structure and planning is important when raising a kid, so being a Philly fan was perfect.  Everything was already planned out.

You see, we Philly fans already know how it’s going to work out in the end.  We’re famous for it.

What’s that you may ask?

We’re famous for failing in spectacularly wonderful ways.  Now, I’m not going to go through the entire list, as I’d prefer not to start my alcohol intake before noon….  but let’s just say the article I linked to is entitled “100 years, 100 heartbreaks.”

 

 

Damnit, where’s my Yuengling.

So as you can see, we have absolutely no expectations of winning.  The glory has been stolen so many times, that we’ve become jaded.  You see, Philly is a blue-collar town.  People from Philly work hard, like to get fat get their hands dirty, and expect their sports teams to do the same.  If we don’t see effort because we’re too drunk to see, we boo.  We boo, because effort is all we have left.  We embody the saying, “it’s not about winning, it’s about how you play the game.”  You didn’t think anyone actually believed that, did you?  Yep, in Philly we live and die by that philosophy.

You see, if we expect to lose, then we avoid the agony of failure.  It’s like going to a casino and only spending $50.  Unless you hit the lottery, you aren’t going to win a million bucks, but you also won’t lose 2 months salary either.  It’s much more fun to bitch about losing the $50 in a spectacular fashion, then say, talk about the $4.75 in slot-machine winnings you took home after 72 straight hours of gambling – that’s just pathetic.

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So, what happened this morning? 

Maybe someone slipped something into the water.  Maybe my blood has thinned from living in DC for the past decade.  Maybe I’m severely ill and this is just a precursor to a long hospital stay….

There had to be a reason for this odd feeling.  It’s something that I haven’t experienced in a long, long time:

Hope.