Imagine, if you will, that you started fishing your junior year in high school, 25 years ago. And although you did your best, in all that time, you never caught the big one. You did all the right things, you paid for the best gear, everything you could imagine. Still, never the big one. Your other friends from other places caught giant fish every so often. Your friends in Boston and Detroit landed them by the score. But you got nothing… zip… nada… squadoosh.

Weeks turned into months… months turned into years… years turned into two and a half decades. Oh there were little fish, here and there. You even hooked into a scant few trophies over those long years… but every time, right before you landed these fish, they broke off.

And then… finally, last night, you netted the biggest fish you could ever remember, and you felt such joy you threw your fists to the sky (the “Rocky” pose) and simply closed your eyes, your emotions bubbling as years of frustration instantly melted away.

Today, that’s what it feels like to be from Philadelphia.

How ’bout them Fightin’ Phils?!!