Once Again, Tampa Bay Stands Between Philadelphia and a World Championship

For the City of Brotherly Love, it just has to be this way.

Oh, you remember.

You remember Ronde Barber picking off Donovan McNabb in the red zone and taking it 92 yards to pay dirt to catapult the Tampa Bay Buccaneers past the Eagles in the NFC Championship Game of 2003. You remember how the Bucs, who had each of the previous two seasons ended at the hands of your Eagles, hoisted the Vince Lombardi Trophy—the prize that you thought should have been yours—just two weeks later, and how that trophy has never been in the possession of your city.

Then there was 2004.

You remember how your hockey-crazed city with a rich hockey tradition was denied a chance to advance and win their first Stanley Cup since 1975 because a warm-weather town like Tampa Bay fielded a better team (one named the Lightning, at that).

You remember how a heart-stopping Game Six overtime win went to ruins when your Flyers couldn't win Game Seven in Tampa, and once again, the city of Philadelphia was just a doormat for another world championship for Tampa Bay.

To put it kindly, Philadelphia—a city that hasn't won a championship of any sort since 1983—has been used as a springboard for championship parades on Florida's Gulf Coast.

Now, Tampa's third team—the Tampa Bay "don't call us Devil" Rays—stands in the way between the Phillies and baseball's Commissioner Trophy. And it should come as no surprise that Philadelphia is going to have to get through Tampa, of all cities, to shatter a curse that has befallen one of America's most tortured sports towns.

Once the Rays finally put the brakes on the resurgent Red Sox in the ALCS, it became official. And so now, the Phillies—the newly-crowned champions of the National League—will head down to St. Petersburg, FL this week to open up the 2008 World Series on Wednesday night from "the Trop."

You would never expect the fates of these two cities—two towns that couldn't be any more different when it comes to everything from climate to attitude to passion—would be so closely correlated.

Before this decade, Tampa Bay was known for the disgusting creamcicle Buccaneer uniforms and a hockey team that nobody even knew existed. The Devil Rays came on to the scene in '98 and stunk every single year in their first decade of existence—including nine last-place finishes.

If the city of Tampa goes 25 years without a championship, the locals don't lose any sleep over it. There is no "700 level" in these parts. Nobody boos Santa Claus or cheers injuries to opposing players. Unlike Philadelphia, the morale of Tampa's citizens isn't closely associated with the ups and downs of the city's sports teams.

But the sports Gods work in strange cruel ways, and it's the complacent and nonchalant city of Tampa that has two championships in the last six years—with a chance to make it three world titles since January of 2003 in the four major North American sports.

And if Philadelphia isn't successful this time around, it will be 25 years...and counting.

So don't be surprised, Philly, that you see this team from that city standing between you and what your long-suffering city really deserves: a championship parade. Based on how your fates have been interwoven for the past half-decade, destiny really wouldn't have it any other way.