Sometimes the further you get from something, the more clearly you can see it. Since I can remember, I've defended the city of Philadelphia and its negative reputation. "We're not miserable, we're just frustrated," I'd say. "We're not boobirds, we're just demanding."

But now, I'm not so sure.

* * * *

When I went to Boston for college, I scoffed at the idea that I might have a Philadelphia accent. I sound just like everyone else, I thought. My first semester, I was enrolled in a class called Voice and Articulation, meant to rid us of our accents and teach us to speak like sophisticated adults. By the end of the semester, the Philadelphia accent that I never realized I had was long gone. I learned to say 'water' instead of 'wooder' and ditched the whiny O sound that most Pennsylvanians use. Now, when I return to my birth city, I notice the overwhelming accent in my parents and can't believe I ever spoke like that.

Just as it took me moving six hours away to notice my accent, it took me moving halfway across the country to realize that generally speaking, Philadelphia is a negative city. Earlier this week, the Philadephia sports radio station that I grew up listening to creeped into the 21st century and began to broadcast on the Internet. Each morning, I've tuned in, hoping to hear a bit of the witty sarcastic banter I've grown to miss. Instead, I was greeted with Phillies talk ("Charlie Manuel sucks!"), basketball talk ("Larry Brown still sucks!"), and Curt Schilling talk ("Schilling has always sucked!").

The Phillies are in second place in the NL East and fourth in the entire NL (hello, Wild Card). They've got excellent young players like Jimmy Rollins, Chase Utley, and Brett Myers along with veterans Billy Wagner, Jim Thome, Kenny Lofton, and Bobby Abreu. Yet, listening to the radio, you'd think that Charlie Manuel was the worst manager in the MLB and that the Phillies were still underachieving.

The Red Sox are in town this weekend for a three-game series, which means Terry Francona is returning to the city that loves to hate him. The city's hatred for Francona has been well documented. The tire slashing, the threats of physical violence, the constant shower of boos at the Ballpark - I always dismissed those as acts of the minority of idiots that each sports city can claim. But listening now, I'm amazed at how unintelligent and pathetic their constant negativity makes them seem.

With the World Champion Red Sox preparing to play their first games at the Bank, talk of the series has taken over the Philadelphia airwaves this morning. Show hosts are furious with Francona's recent comments to the Boston Globe regarding Geno's Steaks. They're calling Schilling a gutless fake puke, which they've called him since his last season in Philadelphia. Gutless? Really? I know a bloody sock that would beg to differ.

Listening to the radio, to the voices I grew up with, I'm embarassed for the city I most identify with. Hearing people I have always defended refer to the manager who brought a World Series to Boston for the first time in 86 years as a "moron" is both enfuriating and heartbreaking.

* * * *

I'm often torn between Boston and Philadelphia as a little piece of my heart remains in each. Although I spent 18 years in one and just four in the other, I call both of those cities home. When it comes to sports, I prefer for the two cities to keep their distance, because while I am only a fan of the Eagles, Flyers, Sixers, and Sox, I don't have it in me to root against a team from either city (last year's Super Bowl not included). And while I may not have been much of a Phillies fan in my youth, reality is, they are the team I watch if the Sox are not on TV, and they are the team I support if the Red Sox are not in the running. The difference is, I hope the Phillies win because I want the people of Philadelphia to be happy; I root for the Sox because I am emotionally attached to that beautiful crimson B that graces their caps. I expect this weekend's viewing to be difficult, as I dread having to cheer against a team that plays on my beloved Broad Street. But I must cheer for the Red Sox because they are with whom my heart lies.

Similarly, I must, in this one case, point out that while I love my suffering bretheren in Philadelphia, they are in the wrong in this instance. Here's to hoping that they can remember how to love baseball this weekend.

While I'm at it, here's to hoping Terry Francona wears his shiny new World Series ring to Citizens Bank Park tonight. And if he should wear it on his middle finger? Well, I certainly wouldn't blame him.