Well Said.

The Stanley Cup Playoffs...ahhhh the pure hope of the 'hometown' team making the finals and dare I said it? Actually take the cup...it's been years since we have been there and it's about time. Nope not the Sabres-The FLYERS! It's so much more than that to those born native to Philly.
I like the Sabres. I've cheered them and liked the team but when it comes loyalty...it's all Philly baby! We get a bad rap, us fans but it's okay. We're loyal and true and there is something that runs deep for us that keeps us tied to the arm-pit pretzels and Scrapple. It's knowing where you came from and how it made you who you are. WE LOVE IT!! So call me a Benedict Arnold (per Matt), I don't care...it's not about liking the winning team it's about a dream of the city being proud and hopeful - and of course busting the balls of all those Non-Stanley Cup Sabres Fans! ...I found this article that was pretty good. Enjoy.

By MICHAEL BRADLEYSPECIAL TO THE POST-INTELLIGENCER
PHILADELPHIA -- Yeah, we booed Santa Claus. Had it coming, the bum.
We threw snowballs at the Dallas Cowboys, too. That one was a layup. Hate the Cowboys. Hate 'em. Hated Roger Staubach. Tom Landry. Really hated Jimmy Johnson. Now, we're gonna hate Tuna Parcells. He used to coach the Giants after all. Hate them, too. We threw snowballs at the Cowboys only because there weren't any rocks lying around.
Now, that Michael Irvin thing was wrong. Didn't matter how many times he broke the law or showed up in public in a mink, you don't cheer when a guy lies motionless on the turf. That was out of line.

We're not all monsters and miscreants here in Philadelphia -- that Irvin incident notwithstanding. It may seem that way 3,000 miles from here, especially when Brent Musberger and Sean Elliott recoil in horror during Game 6 of the Sixers-Pistons series, because the crowd was chanting "ass----!" at referee Bennett Salvatore. The humanity!

Face it, the reason Philadelphia fans get a bad rap is that we're tough. Damn tough. You'd be tough, too, if you had the history we did. And we're not just talking sports tradition. This is deep, ugly sociological territory here. Two hundred-plus years of it.
Philadelphians have suffered more disappointment and heartache than citizens of any other city. It's not close. Consider our athletic track record. We'd like to forget about it. It features a grand total of 12 world titles in nearly 300 seasons of play in the four major sports. And that includes four combined crowns won by the A's and Warriors, two teams not even in town anymore.
No Philadelphia team has won a title in 20 years, since the Sixers did it in '83. During those two decades, every other city with a team in all four major sports has won at least one. Talk all you want about the Cubs and their troubles, but the Bulls won six times in the '90s. The Curse of the Bambino in Boston? How about two Celtics titles and one by the Pats? Detroit has hung six banners in that period. Detroit!
It goes deeper than that. Much deeper. We sit two hours south of New York and two hours north of Washington, D.C. We're right in between the richest city in the world and the seat of global authority. That's worse than little-brother status. We once were the capital city of this country. And they took it away from us. We once had a vibrant industrial economy. Now, the best we can do is beg people to come and look at Independence Hall.
We feel it. So, we close ranks. It's always us against them. Always. Unless, of course, it's us against us. You think we're tough on visitors? You haven't heard anything.

Hall of Famer Mike Schmidt had to don a wig and sunglasses to get a standing ovation.
Take Mike Schmidt. Greatest third baseman in history. Ask a Philadelphia fan about him, though, and you might learn that Schmidt set the unofficial record for meaningless homers. You know the kind. Phillies up 8-1 in the eighth, and Schmitty cracks a solo shot. Big deal. He was booed so many times here, he referred to the locals as "beyond help" and Veterans Stadium as a "mob scene, uncontrollable."
When it came time to take the field after those remarks, Schmidt did so incognito, sporting a wig and shades. Guess what? The fans gave him a standing ovation. We're tough, but we do have a sense of humor.
The biggest sin anybody in Philadelphia can commit is to get too big. That's because few here get all that big in anything. And when they do, they move away. When you're an up-and-comer, we love you. You have potential. You might bring us a championship. But, in the end, you're going to disappoint us. When that happens, don't try telling us about your star power or your near misses.
Charles Barkley didn't win a title, so people cheered when he was traded to Phoenix. Eric Lindros couldn't get the Stanley Cup, so the jerk was sent to the Rangers. The list is long. Randall Cunningham. Scott Rolen. Allen Iverson will probably be next.
Why do we eat our own? Because our hearts have been broken so many times that we have to hold somebody responsible. There's a certain helplessness that comes from investing so much in a sports team. You can't do anything about it, except cheer like crazy when they win and hurt like hell when they lose. You would think we would have learned by now. Then we would be immune.
If the Phillies' 1964 collapse didn't do it -- blowing a 6 1/2-game lead with 12 left -- maybe nothing will. But there are still people walking around the city who can't believe the Eagles lost to Tampa Bay in last January's NFC title game. They were convinced the Birds would finally get back to the Super Bowl. They deserved it. We deserved it. But they lost. And the city sagged. Nearly collapsed.
It all adds up to one thing: BOOOOOO!!! We're angry, title deprived and have a Liberty Bell-sized inferiority complex. But don't worry, gentle Mariners fans. We won't let your heroes have it. And not because we're nice. We spend so much time paying attention to our own troubles that we rarely look at other teams, until it's time to play them. When that happens, we act as if we discovered greatness, like some sporting Vasco da Gama. "Check out that Eeee-cher-o fella. I'll bet he's gonna be a player some day." Jeff Cirillo? Who-zat? Dan Wilson? Huh?
So, don't expect us to throw batteries at you, like we did when J.D. Drew played his first game at The Vet. We just don't know enough to hate you. Yet. As for Drew, he's another one who deserved it. The Phils drafted him first overall and then suffered through a year of hearing Drew's agent Scott Boras tell us why his client would never play for a tightwad team like the Phils, while old J.D. played beer-league softball (or something) and waited for the next year's draft. Bum. I paid to sit in left field and shout at him. Darn right I did. I'm a Philadelphia fan, too. And I'm going to boo Drew and the Dallas Cowboys and New York Rangers and L.A. Lakers and anybody else who beats my teams. Especially the Mets.
And I'm going to boo my teams when they foul up or don't hustle. I'm going to shout at refs and umps.
That's how we do it. Got a problem with that?