So they're not an 8-seed anymore-does it matter? Jay Wright's men play like a perennial underdog; out-hustling, out-working and most importantly, outscoring their opponents. They relish the chance to take out the "big boys". So yeah. They're not an 8-seed anymore. And no it doesn't matter. Because there will always be a Cinderella.

Hey pretty boy! Yeah, you. So you're the so-called "face of the new NHL" huh? Well, we do things a little different here in Philly. You have to earn your respect. All that diving, flopping, whining-to-officials junk, we don't get down with that. You wanna wear the C big boy? Show us you deserve to share to ice with number 18 in the Orange and Black. Judging by that lame excuse for a playoff beard you had last year Cindy, you've got a lot of growing up to do.

48 times?you heard about the Pujols bomb. 48 times?you remembered Jose Mesa, Ricky Bottalico and Mitch Williams. And 48 times?Brad Lidge did his job. 48 times Brad Lidge silenced his critics with a filthy slider, a dominating fastball and another save. 48 for 48. THAT is LIGHTS OUT.

They've been called the Broad Street Bullies and the Ferocious Flyers. They've had "The Rifle", "The Hound" and "The Legion of Doom". They turned back the Red Army and raised two Stanley Cup banners in front of the best fans in hockey. But if you ask any Flyer fan, it's only ever been about two things: the Orange and the Black.

Here's a little math lesson you probably didn't get in school. 2 = 1. Yeah, that's right. Two Stanley Cup banners hang from the rafters in the Wachovia Center . Just a few feet to their right hangs another banner, baring the name and number of the greatest goaltender in Flyers history. One of the all-time greats in the game, the architect behind those championship seasons. You see, without number 1, there's no way we get 2. Only the Lord Saves More than Bernie.

This is really happening, you think to yourself. Three more strikes. Twenty five years without a championship is just one out away from taking a permanent spot in your rear view mirror. Two more strikes. The crowd is driven into a towel-waving frenzy with the tying run on second taking a sizeable lead. One more strike. The noise is deafening as you watch your closer look in for his sign. You know only the lord saves more than Brad. See you at the parade.

Phaithful. What does it mean to us? It means we've been there from the start, through thick and thin. We've seen the highs and more than our fair share of lows. But all along, we've kept the Phaith and the belief in our city, our athletes and our teams. In Philly, that's what it's all about. Real Fans Keep the Phaith.

7 games up with 17 to play. Print your playoff tickets. Set your postseason rotation. Ummm. Hold up a second. Those pesky Nationals take 5 of 6 and staff ace Tom Glavine gives up 7-IN THE FIRST!-on the final day. Chicks definitely do not dig the long ball. Phillies in the playoffs. Fast forward to 2008. Time to send Shea out with a bang! Add Johan Santana. "We're the team to beat," proclaims Carlos Beltran. Yeah, not so much.ÿSee ya Willie! Bullpen collapse, part II. A Wes Helms homer-yup, that Wes Helms-closes out Shea in grand style. Fans in tears. Again. Must be September in Queens.

You start him off with a slider. Low and out of the strike zone. He takes a long, looping swing and gets nothing but air. 0-1. You get the ball back and smile. You're feeling good about yourself, so you shake off the sign. You want the slider once more. The ball tumbles towards the ground and the slugger swings over it again. 0-2. Brimming with confidence, you stand tall on the rubber and look in for your sign. One finger goes down. You nod in approval. You wind, fire and try to sneak a fastball by him on the inner half. Big mistake. As he rounds third and crosses the plate, arms raised skyward, you realize you fought a battle you can't win. You tried to challenge the Big Man. And you lost.

You spend the entire week leading up to Sunday designing a game plan to stop him. Watch the film. Draw up schemes. Take your reps. Game day arrives. Veterans Stadium feels cold, hostile, foreboding. 1st and 10. You break the huddle and find 92 across the line. Next thing you know, you're on your back and the crowd is going wild. It's now 2nd and 17 and number 92 is behind you, helping your quarterback to his feet.

It's one thing to talk a big game. It's another thing to back it up. See that flag flying beyond center field? J-Roll was right. I'd say we're still The Team to Beat

His desire? Unquestionable. His intensity? Unmatchable. His will to win? Unbelievable. His legacy? Unforgettable

It's about Dr. J and Moses. Robert Earle Clarke and Michael Jack Schmidt. Lefty and Jaws and the Round Mound of Rebound. Our heroes play here. We dream here. It's about the intersection of Broad and Pattison. It's where the Phaith was born.