What's this about?

I was born into a Yankee family. Everyone from my dog to my Grandma loved the Bombers. And I was following suit - I dressed as Dave Winfield for Halloween and named my first goldfish Ruppert.

But then I wised up. The Yankees of my generation were a bunch of overhyped names who never won. I got sick of hearing about "Yankee tradition" and looked for my own team. I tried the Blue Jays, Orioles and Tigers, but none fit.

Then I got sucked in by a young pitcher on April 29, 1986 -- my 9th birthday and the day a pre-roid Roger Clemens struck out 20. It was a sign, and I soon loved learning about Fenway and the history of the preeminent tough luck franchise. I thought the story of the Sox most mirrored the human experience and had faith that one year they would topple the Empire.

I'd love to say I never lost faith, but truth be told, I conceded after the game 3 drubbing in the great '04. My friend, an Expos fan, got me through the next four games, on the theory win game four then it's Pedro, Curt and all hands on deck for game 7. I didn't quite buy it, but he was right, and soon enough Keith Foulke was closing out the World Series sweep.

No sooner did he flip the bill to Mientkiewicz that the Sox started to jump the shark. Countless books, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and that lovely Fever Pitch movie made it not so fun rooting for the Sox.

Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled by every moment this October as they won their seventh championship and became the flagship franchise of baseball. But I had a new diversion: a certain National League team that was tormenting a New York team just like the Sox were destroying the Empire.

See, by this time I had moved from the suburbs of New York to those of Philadelphia. I had been married for five years to Christine, a die-hard Phillies fan with whom I have spent many afternoons at the Vet and Citizens Bank Park, and countless summer evenings watching the Phils on TV. Every year we buy tickets for the season's home finale - and for the first time in 2007, the year-ender meant something.

Entering the last day of the season, the Phils were tied with the wheezing Mets, and shortly after we sat down (section 419, row 3), the Marlins were up 7-0. It was a nine-inning party as the Phils held off the Expos (I refuse to call them Nationals) 6-1.

A few days later, we returned to Philly to watch their first playoff game since Joe Carter, but they didn't mount a win against the Rockies, who were later swept out of the World Series by Josh Beckett and the rest of the crew.

So will 2008 be the year the my marriage gets tested with a Boston-Philly World Series? Probably not (Phils still don't have the pitching). But with a newly purchased Sunday game plan at Citizens Bank Park, we'll be front and center to see.