Well, here we are. Embarking on a journey of complete futility that all of us Philadelphia sports fans know as "fandom." My name is Rawb, and I have a problem. I, too, am a devout Philly faithful. Whether it be watching Joe Carter knock one out of the park in the 1993 World Series or groaning as Rodney Harrision picks off Donovan McNabb with less than a minute remaining in Super Bowl XXXIX, I've been through the ups and downs just like the rest of you.

There is one difference, though. I'm only 21 years old. Now, you may be saying to yourself, "Kid, I've been squirming over Philly sports since before you were born." And you're right. But unlike you, I only have my father's recollections of the World Series in 1980 to keep me pressing on. I didn't get to witness (or even live through) the parade down Broad St. when the Sixers brought home the title in 1983. No, sir. My eyes have never seen a championship. The closest I've come to witnessing victory is second place.

So join me as I rant and rave about our perpetually underacheiving city of Philadelphia.