In early 2003, I wrote an article about how Terrell Owens personified Philadelphia.

"I've long been of the opinion that Philadelphia is a city that is misunderstood. It has its shortcomings, of course, but it gets a bad rap as far as its attitude goes.

Much like T.O."

Of course, hindsight is 20/20, and I might just want a do-over on that one. The one lesson that the Terrell Owens saga taught us is that you can't judge an athlete based on one game or even one season. What an athlete does over the course of his career is a fair basis on which to judge his character. With that in mind, it's obvious that the athlete I should have written about that day is Allen Iverson.

Early in his career, Allen Iverson's tremendous play was overshadowed by his so-called "gangsta" image. The middle-aged white baseketball fan had a hard time accepting Iverson with his cornrose and multitude of tattoos, though they'd never admit it now. Over time, though, most of them came around when they saw what we are still seeing night in and night out: a guy who gives 110% every single night; a guy who would do anything to win.

You see, that's what we like in Philadelphia, because that's what we are. While every city certainly has its fair share of lawyers and doctors, Philadelphia's history is rich in blue-collar workers who felt they had to work hard for everything they earned. For as long as sports have been popular in Philadelphia, the city's personality has been reflected in the style of its popular athletes. Offer us two players, the first of whom has a neverending supply of talent but whose work ethic is lacking, and the second of whom has middle-of-the-road talent accompanied by a gritty, tenacious, blue-collar effort, and we'll always choose the latter.

Philadelphians have a bad reputation, something we feel isn't totally justified. We're the city people love to hate. Our critics love to talk about our violent temper, our lack of championships, and our poor attitude. But when it comes to our passion, our hearts, and our loyalty, even our most staunch critics wave the white flag.

If that description reminds you of a certain 6-foot point guard, well...you're not alone. Allen Iverson, who personifies so many of the traits Philadelphians have come to associate with their beloved city, has become Philadelphia's modern day Rocky. He may not be the biggest, he may not be the strongest, and he may not be the most talented, but he'll always be the guy on the floor with the most heart and the best effort. At a time when some athletes are using steroids to pad their own stats, and others seem more interested in the lifestyle their job affords them, Allen Iverson is, deep down, a fan. He hungers for a championship in a way that all Philadelphians can understand, because we all feel that same burning deep down in our chests.

As the Sixers hover around the .500 mark, you can sense the frustration in Iverson's eyes. They speak to a lifetime of hard work and calloused hands and bruised knees and busted shoulders. But like his fans, Iverson will not give up. Each night he'll allow other teams to punish his body in exchange for a chance to win, just as we make vulnerable our hearts each and every season, as the hope of a championship glimmers, vaguely, off in the distance. Together we work and together we bleed in the hopes that someday, we'll find ourselves together at the corner of Broad and Pattison, this time with a different look in our eyes.