Let me tell you a story about dedication, perseverance, and the heart of a champion. This story is set in your and my town, Pittsburgh, PA.
Like a growing minority of graduate students, I live in Bloomfield for cheap rent. Bloomfield is a solid working class neighborhood. While situated in the heart of Pittsburgh's East End, architecturally it is basically a late 19th century mill town. Narrow streets are crowded with small row homes, inhabited primarily by senior citizens, cops, and chicks with black spiky hair. There's a pretty good business district along Liberty Avenue. Adding to the feeling of security, I've been here for 1.5 years and only one off-duty cop has been carjacked on my street.
All in all, a decent neighborhood and a good choice for any family. However, one thing you can't get is much space. A typical yard is my neighbors' a block away, which consists of an 8 foot wide strip of scraggly grass, right between the aluminum siding and the 3 feet of sidewalk along a moderately trafficked road.
The type of people who think the Pirates will finish fifth or sixth would have given up, maybe put out some plastic chairs and planted a couple of shrubs. Well, those people clearly don't deserve championships.
I am proud to report that these neighbors are currently installing, on 30% of their remaining land, inches from an urban public sidewalk, a motherfucking 8 foot by 12 foot hot tub. Win. Now as a bonus whenever I walk to any of Liberty Ave's dollar stores this summer, I will be less than 12 inches away from some bikini clad chicks with spiky black hair.
So, Pirates fans, when one can have all the comforts of a 2.5 star hotel right here in Bloomfield, Pittsburgh, USA, why would we let a 7-11 start kill our dreams of a World Championship?
I still believe.