I have lived in the New York area for nearly 20 years. I’ve adopted many New York habits—walk aggressively and see red lights as optional, memorize where to stand on the subway platform for optimal entry and egress, and pronounce Houston not like the city in Texas.
However, I root for the Philadelphia sports teams. Let me explain.
The explanation is rather simple, actually. I am a product of my environment—the fourth son of a sports-crazed Philadelphia family.
My mother is still bitter over the 1950 World Series between the Phillies and Yankees. She anguishes over the three one-run losses. My oldest brother spit at the television while watching a Sixers-Celtics game. My next oldest brother was convinced he was bad luck and could not bring himself to watch the key moments of the 1980 National League Championship Series between the Phillies and Houston. My European born grandmother waved an Eagles pennant and ate pizza while watching the 1980 Super Bowl.
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