Underdog vs. upper crust

I grew up in West Philadelphia where sports are a religion where we learn about suffering firsthand, cherishing rare victories more than ever.

This explains why I am overjoyed the Eagles are going to the Super Bowl, a chance to redeem all the losses I’ve known as a Brotherly Love native.

There is something delightful that the Eagles are playing the Patriots, Boston being one of the cities in which I have lived.

Boston is …well, slightly upper crust and intellectual. It is a place where they believe anything 25 miles away is uncivilized.

I once realized when I lived there that I was under educated, having only one master’s degree.

I have heard someone describe Boston as the “Athens of America.”

If that is so, then Philadelphia is the Cheesesteak Capital of America.

I am from a town where people still carry lunch pails to work and ride the El (subways) to games and believe the best part of the art museum is the statue of Rocky outside.

You know what, Boston, I identify more with Philly, a place where I played stickball on Samson Street and looked up at the statue of Billy Penn atop city hall as I watched the mummers march down Market Street. It’s my hometown. And despite all the losses I’ve suffered from the Phillies and Flyers and Sixers, it’s made the victories that much more glorious.

There’s a great book, “Puritan Boston and Quaker Philadelphia,” by a once University of Pennsylvania sociology Professor E. Digby Baltzell in which he argued that the beginnings of each city shaped their cultures today.

The Boston elite set the tone for leaders — educated, often orthodox in their religious views, and focused on order.

The Philadelphia leadership was more egalitarian, less organized, more centered on the principles that every person has worth and no one is above anyone else by right of money, family, or religion.

I am a Philadelphian not just by birth but by choice.

I am part of the great crowd of native Philadelphians who toss snowballs at Santa Claus, boo with the best of them, and down a footlong hoagie stuffed with hot peppers that take away your breath. (please, it’s not a sub).

I don’t care where you got your college degree; I only care if you know who played third base for the 1950 Phillies or that Dr. J. was the most graceful basketball player you’d ever seen.

So, for me, it would be a wonderful thing when the Eagles beat the Patriots.

It would bring back great memories of the Broad Street Bullies and the Whiz Kids of 1950 and the 2008 World Series champs.

It would be especially sweet if they beat the Beantown Patriots with fans wearing three-pointed patriot hats and applauding politely when their team wins.

I know W.C. Fields didn’t like Philly. He claimed he went to Philadelphia on a Sunday but it was closed.

And then, he supposedly wanted this etched on his tombstone: All things considered, I’d rather be in Philadelphia.

Well, Mr. Fields, all things considered, I am from Philadelphia and proud of it.

And by the way, I’d like an eagle on my green grave marker.

So, Boston fans sipping your wine and eating cheese pieces in some Beacon Street pub, get ready for a loss.

I know how losses feel, so I have some sympathy for you, but not too much to stop me from singing the Eagles fight song and joining the chorus: E-A-G-L-E-S!

I am part of the great crowd of native Philadelphians who toss snowballs at Santa Claus ...