Is it “never having to say you’re sorry?” No, it’s the Pittsburgh Steelers, the quasi-religious, non-denominational totem of God’s love on earth. But take heart, God has many forms.

This Sunday, the disparities between my birthplace, Pittsburgh, and my adopted home, Philadelphia, come sharply into focus. The Steelers and Eagles will meet in South Philadelphia, and the two will provide a study in the divergent inferiority complexes of the two cities.

After the jump, prodigal Phileb-son Michael Fichman comes back to the roost and illustrates once again how we really are all in the same gang.

Philadelphia’s tortured sports soul will be on display — a loss will likely inspire vicious booing, alcoholic self-medication and scattered, loss-related incidents of random and domestic violence. A victory will inspire pride and a short-lived confidence in a win that surely, certainly, undoubtedly will prove Pyhrric. Because they’re a buncha fuckin’ bums anyway and they’re gonna blow it somehow.

Pittsburgh, win or lose, is unlikely to dwell on the result. There is no love-hate relationship with the Steelers, only love. To hate the Steelers would be to hate one’s self, because the Steelers don’t play for the city, they are the city. Most of what Pittsburghers love about Pittsburgh, nobody else sees- the things that make life in Pittsburgh great. All that goes on display is the Steelers, and that’s just fine.

Whatever it was about the essence of Pittsburgh that disappeared with steel in the 1970s, it flowed straight into the Steelers. The fanaticism that drives the Steelers fanbase is derived from the dedication to a day’s work. It is, as I’ve once said, the place where drag queens can diagram zone blitzes.

I’m well aware that I’m gonna catch hell for saying any of this, and honestly I’ll be surprised if Joey runs the damn thing. Yeah, it’s homerism to the fullest. But I doubt I could find anybody who denies that angst fuels a lot of Eagles fans. The Eagles always manage to screw it up, and no, it’s not fair. On the whole, there’s an omnipresent and palpable feeling that Philly as a whole just can’t catch a break, and when it does, it goes unnoticed. “Us against the world” in all arenas. But the search for the elusive answer to “Why,” investigations seldom explore beyond the field and the front office. Bad coaches, bad calls, bad breaks, bad trades, bad drafts.

The Eagles are, and always have been, a tough child to raise. They underperform and cause trouble. In return they get a whipping.

Maybe they aren’t being loved right.

Michael Fichman wrote the late, great This Week In Balls column for Philebrity. These days, as ever, you can find him here.

This entry was posted on Friday, September 19th, 2008 at 11:02 am.