Where's Ol' Pete

Oh, what a great day Sunday was...no exclamation point. The Fightin' Phils have, finally, competed successfully in the modern post-season format. This is to say that they have advanced beyond the first round of the playoffs as constituted since the last time they advanced to the World Series. Somewhere in the mid-90's Major League Baseball created the Wild Card for the post-season tournament, and some of those Wild Cards have won the ultimate trophy, to the delight of MLB and their fans, both of them in Florida, several laid-back folks in Anaheim, and, later, 750 million in Boston. Sunday (October 5^th) the Phillies eliminated the Wild Card Brewers and will face the Dodgers for the N.L. Championship and a chance to play in the modern World Series before the snow first falls...one hopes.

The problem is that, as fans, we Philadelphians don't believe in the potential of this team to actually do that. They could be running out a lineup comprised of Rod Carew, Pete Rose, Willie Mays, Babe Ruth, Joe Jackson, and...well, you get the picture. It doesn't matter. As the official worst major sports franchise in history, bankers of 10,000 losses and counting, the Phillies could have waved their arms, flown back to Philly from Brewtown without an airplane, and no one would really believe that they will ultimately triumph. This is because they are cursed. Their curse seems to have been ignored by the national mainstream press, but it is as profound and well-rooted as the now buried Curse of the Bambino in Boston.