State of the (Philly sports) Union

[Remarks as prepared for delivery]

My fellow Philadelphia sports fans,

As I stand here before you tonight, I know many of you share my great concern with the days ahead. In less than two weeks, our nation will once again be forced to endure a Boston/New York championship match-up. Our own beloved city is still mired in a one-for-114-seasons title drought. The Phillies failed to achieve last year's high hopes, and the Eagles crushed our dreams of a playoff breakthrough as well. Our city has already braced itself for an amusing but ultimately fruitless hockey and basketball season.

But despite those trials, I am here tonight to assure you, my fellow Sons of Ben, that the state of our union is stronger than ever.

What many of you are calling reason for despair, I see as a sign of hope and greatness yet to come. Yes, the Phillies disappointed us last season. But their 102 wins was a high-water mark for a franchise whose history has redefined what failure in sports means. In just a few years the franchise has gone from a 10,000-time loser to a five-time division champion. And with LeRoy Halladay and Mr. Clifton Phifer Lee still on the team, there is no reason to believe that success is all in the past.

Your Sixers, while flawed, are showing signs of life not witnessed for more than a decade. Your Flyers, while flawed, may have just completed the quickest rebuilding period in major sports history. Both are still far from being championship caliber. Yet, isn't that exactly what we said in the summer on 2008, when another flawed bunch of local heroes scrapped their way into the postseason, then into the championship, and then into history? Who are we to say that these two teams are too far away from the promised land that we should ignore their growing list of achievements?

The Eagles remain a constant source of frustration and heartbreak, and appear further from the ultimate victory than any point in the last decade. But let me remind you that this disaster of a squad sat just one win away from taking the Giants spot in the playoffs this year, proof that even a small break could be the difference between a Tony-Romo-style disaster and the next Tom Brady. Indeed, I stand here tonight to tell you that I believe this team is only one piece away from reaching that lofty goal, and with just a small chance, we could see that glory soon.

(Of course, that one piece is a head coach who knows what a linebacker is, but I digress.)

Yes, there are still injustices in the world. As I speak to you tonight, Boston's football team is preparing for another Super Bowl, and their hockey team is just returning from a victory lap around the White House after last year's Stanley Cup. We sit dangerously close to serious conversations about whether Eli Manning is one of the best quarterbacks of all time. And, this early in the season, the Phillies look like they face serious threats from all sides in their own division, including the Miami Marlins, a team that didn't even exist last October yet somehow owns two World Series titles.

But we cannot let these setbacks tear us apart, as if we were fair-weather Cowboys or Yankees fans. We must believe. We must endure. We must continue to boo. Our very nature is to be pessimistic, but we must be wary not to let that realistic criticism turn to fatalism. We are not Cleveland -- We will reach the top again.

And when we do, we will greet it with the unbridled joy that can only be found on the honest ground of Broad Street, not the phony pavement of Broadway. When you see the Eagles pass on third-and-one, remember Pat Burrell's wave as he crossed over Oregon Avenue. When you see Brian Schneider weakly pop up to left field, remember Chase Utley infuriating the local censors with his unbridled excitement. When you see see a collapsing concussion check drop another Flyers forward, remember when we all sang High Hopes the loudest we ever had.

Thank you. God bless you, God bless America, and God Bless Billy Penn. And screw Eli Manning. Seriously, how does that dope keep winning?

[To be delivered by the Philadelphia Phanatic]