Why Not Us?- by Todd Flynn

Why Not Us?

Paul Holmgren brazenly coined the moniker, “Why Not Us,” that the Flyers have used as the central theme during their march into the Eastern Conference Finals. The Organization even went as far as handing-out 20,000 orange tee-shirts with those very words adorned on the front, right above the corporate sponsors, of course. As the once-frenzied, rabid building morphed into an orange funeral procession last night at the corner of Broad and Pattison, the scene became all too familiar. It was Groundhog Day, only this time, Bill Murray had just changed from his Eagles jersey into an orange and black sweater.

The proverbial fat lady was already singing even before it was over; she wore a real bad dress and was overweight. Her name was Kate Smith. Minus their top two defensemen, the Fly Boys succumbed to the Pens and sent their fans home begrudgingly staring at those very words on the front of their orange shirts that once stood for championship dreams. In unison, all 20,000 fans looked upward to the sporting Gods and shouted, “Why Not Us?”

Why not us? It’s a very simple question. As Philadelphia fans, what have we ever done to deserve this fate? As we loyally and painstakingly sit back and unwaveringly support our teams, why do the endings always seem so tragic? Why do horrible expansion teams like the Marlins and Heat with even more horrible fans get rewarded with Championship bliss? How about the Carolina Hurricanes? The freakin’ Arizona Diamondbacks. Why not us?

The Curse of the Billy Goat. The Curse of the Bambino. I don’t what hear it. Chicago had a guy named Jordan winning titles every year. They had the Bears. Before the Red Sox won their two titles, Boston had one of the greatest dynasties of all-time in the Celtics. Boston had the Orr-led Bruins. Boston now has the Pats. You get the point. Nothing compares to the absolute, unadulterated, abject futility of being a Philadelphia sports fan.

Twenty-Five times four. For the scholars out there, that equals 100. For close to 25 straight years, all four Philadelphia teams have been devoid of a Championship. It is almost unfathomable, an entire generation of fans never being able to witness a championship, watching that championship train derail just when you thought you had a chance, when the champagne bubbles were almost tickling your nose. One-hundred straight season have ended the same way, without a title.

How could a title not be stumbled upon? How could Philadelphia not have that one magical season? I am not even talking about multiple titles or dynasties, what about just that one Wild Card team or low seed that catches lightning in bottle and wins a title? Nothing, Nada, Zilch. How can we not have one title? Why not us?

Yeah, there were chances, but it seemed like those chances just ended in more direct, brutal bouts of depression for longer periods of time. Joe Carter’s home run shut down local bridges and brought suicide hot lines back in vogue. The Kodak moment of our generation is Lindros out cold, motionless on the ice after getting rocked by Stevens, the symbolism never so apparent at the time. When the Birds made the big dance, the star QB was throwing-up the product he endorsed down the stretch. Iverson’s tantalizing game one against the Lakers in the Finals just made the feeling that much more bottomless after the Sixers got white-washed the rest of the series.

Someone else can fill in the rest of the close calls, fleecings, conspiracy theories, collapses, soap operas, scandals, cheapskates, busts, and whatever the hell else they want to remember, or should I say forget. As the years go by and as we sit on the sidelines watching other cities win titles, the attainment of a championship seems more and more distant. Visions of grandeur simply become replaced by jaded cynicism, each season and sport becoming less and less enjoyable. Other cities are envied, they really are, as we all sit aghast and wonder, “Why Not Us?”