Triple Figure Tears - Tuesday, May 20, 2008
543 Views :: 1 Comments :: :: Michael Bradley

   Those of you who are too young to remember the 1983 Sixers title missed out on some great fun. There was Moses Malone's "fo-fo-fo" description of how the team wanted to make it through the post-season. There was Earl Cureton's baby hook against the Lakers. There was the parade. Doc's "Paid in full!" declaration. Those were high times indeed.

  Twenty-five years and 100 seasons later, we yearn for a similar bit of civic ecstasy. Our four major professional teams have failed in their myriad championship quests for many reasons, and we are being told as Philadelphians that we are jinxed, cursed or othewise unworthy of a title. Worse, that lack of cork-popping joy has infected our self-esteem. It's bad enough that we are stuck between New York and Washington D.C. and must deal with the reality of being neither the seat of the world's financial power (although Beijing  has had a little to say about that lately) and the planet's military might. Thanks to the last 25 years, we are also contending with the gloom that comes from athletic failure.

  Those hard times have produced a sense that we somehow deserve a championship. That because we pay good money for tickets, scream ourselves hoarse and wear Eagles jerseys to church we have a right to a parade. Like last year's "momentous" 10,000th loss by the Phillies, this sense of entitlement defines us. Worse, it contributes to a fatalistic approach that causes Philadelphia fans to turn on themselves and those who play for the teams they support.

  Don't get me wrong. I loved celebrating the Flyers' two Stanley Cups. I was at the Sixers parade. And when the Phillies won in 1980, I sat in front of a TV in my dorm room and cried tears of joy. I can't stand the bungling of the owners and GMs who have failed to assemble teams capable of contending, much less winning a title. Every time I hear the name Joe Carter, I want to kick something. And my friends from Detroit still give me hell about the 1996 Cup finals. You want passion? Sit next to me when the Phillies cough one up or the Birds blow one down the stretch. And cover your ears.

   But let's not get carried away with the number of seasons or the years between titles. Part of the beauty of being a sports fan is waiting for next year and enjoying the ride when something good happens. Tell me you didn't enjoy last year's Phillies season, even though it ended in such an ugly manner. And how delicious is the anticipation of another year of Eagles football? If you're in this simply for the brass ring, then you're not really a fan. You're a bottom-line person who doesn't enjoy the competition and the sheer release of rooting for a team. You should find other pursuits that are zero-sum games.

    The rest of us need to realize that our self-worth is not tied up in a bunch of millionaire players looking out for themselves and billionaire owners who care more about their profit-and-loss statements than our desire for a title. Are we "long-suffering?" Yes. Does that mean we are hexed? Absolutely not. Our time will come, and when it does, those who have continued to cheer passionately for their teams, not against some imaginary curse, will bask in the glory of the championship.

  In the meantime, don't get caught up in the rhetoric and anger. We're Philadelphia fans, the toughest, most resilient around. You say it's been 100 seasons since the last title? Well, we're ready to go 100 more, fella.

  Okay, maybe 50.