“Actions speak louder…”

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

“Love is blind.”

That must be why we continue to suffer. Why we continue to read the same book with the same depressing ending over and over again, only to think that this time, when we turn the page, the outcome will change.

It is the life we choose to live as a Philly sports fan. It is the only life many of us know.

And it sucks.

“If you always do what you’ve always done…”

This weekend’s series against the first place Mets "isn't like life and death," Cole Hamels says.

That one statement is indicative of all that’s wrong with the Phillies. Even if, technically, this is true, it’s that type of l’aissez faire attitude from players, management and ownership alike which gives us the same result every year, which the organization interprets as “almost there.”

We fans interpret the exact same scenario as “unacceptable.”

“It’s not like we’re panicking,” Charlie Manual says.

“Why not?” I say.

Kudos to the man for his retaining his M.O. of keeping the clubhouse, as they say, “loose.” But being loose should not, in turn, sap the intensity out of the team.

Loose, sure. Like a bowel movement.

At least when Larry Bowa was around, we had confirmation that others saw what we did. At least an effort was made to get a rise out of players who arbitrarily left it all on the field, if they ever did.

To any logical observer, this weekend’s series was, bar none, the most critical of the year. This series was unquestionably the time to pull out all the stops, go for broke, breath down the neck of the hated rivals, send all those loser New York fans back up the turnpike with their heads between their tails.

Instead, they whip out three unproven rookies to start the games.

And after three consecutive losses where they never held the lead, what was consensus response afterwards? It’s only June.

Sadly, that’s only to be expected.

“Slow and steady wins the race?”

In one of the deepest drafts in NBA history, the 76ers general manager opted to continue to bank on the operative of the hour: rebuilding.

There must be a delay on the zoning permit.

The Sixers reside in the most talent-deprived division in the most talent-deprived conference in the most talent-derived league in sports at this time. Overnight successes are not only possible right now, they’re probable. One good draft can pay dividends before the ink dries on a franchise-savior’s contract.

Instead of choosing a player with the word “proven” in his scouting report, Billy King opted to go with the one who’s listed under “potential.” He now expects us to start perculating excitement for a 2009 squad. Yeah, just like the Bush Administration is banking on 2009 euphoria for the Iraq War.

People say there is no “I” in “Team.” I say, “Explain the Cavaliers.”

Frankly, I’ll settle for someone explaining Billy King right about now.

“A penny saved…”

Similarly, the Eagles play in the NFC: the Nobody’s Feared Conference. At present time, they are comprised of a mix of solid, if unspectacular, veterans mixed with young potential. They don’t do any one thing particularly well, but are always competitive, whether it’s rising to the occasion against a tough opponent or playing down to a not so tough one.

The aforementioned has essentially defined this team for the past several years.

The defensive line keeps springing a leak? The return game lacks explosiveness? Draft someone who’s a year away from being a year away.

Win now? Sure, enough to keep the fans in the seats. Win it all? Maybe later.

The real “Gold Standard” resides a few hundred miles north, where management isn’t afraid to go all in at the table. The see a weakness and don’t just address it – they bombard it.

The folks at “Extreme Makeover” would be in awe of the transformation performed to the Patriots’ receiving game. All because they know that opening the checkbook now more than pays off later.

Looking at who’s in front of them, future defenses will now have eyes bulging larger than Reche Caldwell’s after another dropped catch in the playoffs.

Gold Standard in Philly? Perhaps tin foil.

“I’m mad as hell…”

…but apparently, I’m going to continue to take it. In places that hurt. Over and over again.

Because, as you know, love is blind.