The greatest bet of all time.

It was going to be the finest meal of my young life. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, it all fell apart.

This is the story of our generation's greatest wager.

John Carter, the first live-action movie from Wall-E director Andrew Stanton and the first starring role for "Friday Night Lights" heartthrob Taylor Kitsch, was set to open in thousands of theaters on March 9.

I thought it was going to bomb at the box office. Hard. In fact, I was so certain that I bet a burrito on it.

You couldn't convince me otherwise; John Carter was destined for disaster. I would launch into lengthy rants at the drop of a hat, complaining about the stupid-looking alien world or noting the complete lack of interest in such an unknown property (it was based on a book published in 1917).

Who was Taylor Kitsch? For that matter, who the hell was John Carter? So why would anyone pay $10 to see a guy they don't know playing a character they've never heard of?

I felt it was quite persuasive, but my good friend and roommate, known to many as the Sultan of Swole, disagreed. He believed in John Carter, or at least felt I was being far too harsh.

He started to form a John Carter defense. It had the Disney marketing machine humming behind it at full force. It had the coveted "From the director of Wall-E" proclamation stamped all over every TV ad and billboard. Kitsch was pretty darn handsome. It was about space and adventure, and people like space and adventure, right?

It wasn't the worst argument I'd ever heard. Still, to me, believing in John Carter was a fool's errand. The real winner this summer movie season was sure to be Battleship.

Yes, it starred the same unknown Taylor Kitsch. And yes, it was being mocked mercilessly on the Internet, mostly because a movie studio had the sheer audacity to spend $200 million on a movie based on a board game.

But that sounded like a classic example of "there's no such thing as bad publicity." Hell, the Transformers movies have made what, a billion dollars? And they're based on a bunch of action figures. This is what big-budget movies are nowadays: A comfortable, well-known premise surrounded by splashy special effects and handsome stars.

To me, Battleship was the known commodity. John Carter was the vague, unfamiliar shot in the dark.

So it became Battleship versus John Carter, friend versus friend, with the reward for victory being a delicious dinner at the Qdoba or Chipotle of your choice. Some of our other pals started to join in the conversation, picking sides and awaiting a chance to analyze the earliest box-office returns. It became more than a bet; it became a showdown, a test of our mettle and pop-culture acumen.

Finally, to what seemed (to us) like the world's great excitement, John Carter was released into the wild.

It tanked. Reviews were not flattering. The first week gross in America (our bet was domestic only) came in at just about $40 million; only $17 million was added on in week two. The final take? A shade over $72 million.

I began to mock my friend mercilessly. This was exactly what I'd expected. Our bet was all but decided. I could already taste the burrito in my mouth, in my belly, slowly digesting, providing my body with useful energy.

But what I didn't count on, what may up end screwing me in the end, was the public's complete and utter disdain for Battleship.

I thought that Battleship would be an entertaining romp that poked fun at its silly origins. I figured Middle America would see it because it was a big movie with explosions and bombs, and that's what they're into. I calculated that Liam Neeson, Rihanna, Brooklyn Decker and the sexy guy from "True Blood" would bring in a relatively diverse crowd on the coasts.

Wrong. Or maybe just far too optimistic. It didn't matter. The time for predicting and analyzing was over; now all that mattered was results.

The reviews have been worse than John Carter's. The box office returns have been miniscule. Suddenly, the Sultan is the one with the taste of burrito in his mouth. He's the one who's already thinking about which restaurant to choose, who gets to taunt me about how much he'll enjoy the first bite of his deliciously hard-fought-for, chicken-packed tortilla.

My only solace is that it's not over yet. Prometheus doesn't come out until next weekend. Battleship is only roughly $24 million behind John Carter. One more solid weekend and the dream is in sight.

As one of the leaders of the Battleship army, it's time to do my part. I'll go to the movies tonight and offer up my $12. I'll do my best to enjoy the spectacle that Peter Berg and company have so lovingly crafted for me, and I'll hope that others out there are doing the same.

But I fear it's too late. Barring a miracle, my chances of winning this bet are probably as dead as Taylor Kitsch's dreams of being a leading man after appearing in these two hideous stinkers.

Burritos may never again taste as sweet.

Swirling emotions and the Los Angeles Kings.

When Mike Richards and Jeff Carter led the Philadelphia Flyers to the Stanley Cup Finals in 2010, the city was theirs. A series win would have solidified the duo as the hottest young stars in the area.

Well, we all know how that ended. But now, so soon after falling just short of their goal, Richards and Carter have another shot at the most famous trophy in all of sports.

As members of the Los Angeles Kings.

This, of course, has become a hot-button issue in Philadelphia. Carter and Richards making the Finals immediately after the team "gave up" on the two is bound to sting, especially when the Flyers wilted in the middle of their own Stanley Cup chase.

I think most fans aren't quite sure how to view the forever-linked forwards. Did they hurt the team by partying too much? Maybe. Alright, more than maybe. Did expectations grow too high and too fast after that unexpected Finals run? Were they moved too soon? Was there a chance that they'd grow into complimentary roles around future superstar Claude Giroux, that they'd learn to mesh with Chris Pronger and Peter Laviolette?

Either way, Paul Holmgren and the Flyers brass grew weary of it all. And even though I was in praise of the trades -- "let's roll with this unique brand of balls to the wall hysteria" -- it was obvious that the two were extremely talented players who would probably blossom with a change of scenery. They were best buds who didn't know professional life outside of Philadelphia, and being shipped out of town could very easily end up being the boot to the ass they both needed.

Richards stumbled into the best possible situation: the bright lights and big dreams of the up-and-coming Los Angeles Kings. Meanwhile, Carter was banished to Columbus, maybe the saddest place to play in the National Hockey League.

But fate intervened (and Carter apparently bitched incessantly behind the scenes), and the two were eventually reunited in L.A. A few months (and 12 playoff wins) later, the Kings are by far the favorite to take home this year's championship.

It's been a long, strange saga, and I don't blame some fans for disliking Carter and Richards (and, by proxy, the team that they now play for). But after thinking about it (and watching the Kings play), I would like to see Los Angeles win the Stanley Cup. I sure as hell would prefer that to the New Jersey Devils or New York Rangers winning, and I'm impressed at how Mikey and Jeffy have helped turn the Kings around after the midseason slump that nearly cost them a playoff spot.

I just wish the Flyers had gotten there first. That's the stinger. Wayne Simmonds, Jake Voracek, Sean Couturier, Brayden Schenn; Holmgren brought in some amazing young talent for his two big-name forwards. The team's future remains bright. Both Los Angeles and Philadelphia got what they wanted; the Kings are just reaping the most immediate, and prominent, benefits.

At the end of the day, this is Jonathan Quick's coming-out party far more than it is Richards and Carter overcoming whatever labels were attached to them in Philadelphia. They're a piece of the puzzle in Los Angeles, not the stars, and that seems to be what suits them best. Anze Kopitar's the stud, Dustin Brown's the captain, Quick is the superstar goalie. Richards and Carter just are. And it's looking like that formula will lead all of them to a Stanley Cup.

An early assessment of the 2012 Phillies.

Now that we're just about at the one-fourth point of the 2012 season, where do the Philadelphia Phillies stand?

With a record of 18-19, good for last place in the National League East, you'd have to say "on rocky ground."

But at the same time, it's kinda been what we've all expected. Injuries, especially those suffered by Cliff Lee and some back-end bullpen contributors, have been ill-timed and unfortunate. But we knew the bats would be meh (142 runs, 19th in Major League Baseball) and we assumed the pitching would be solid (3.48 ERA, 10th in MLB). And they both, mostly, have been.

So here the Phillies stand, almost even, seemingly an aging team holding on by a thread. But I still maintain, as I did about a month ago, that there are reasons to be optimistic. Let's take a look at what's stunk and what hasn't so far.

Carlos Ruiz is a ray of sunshine! Quietly one of the best defensive (and most beloved) catchers in baseball, he's developed into one of the best offensive, too (.337/.379/.577). He's third amongst all backstops in on-base percentage, behind only Joe Mauer and Carlos Santana. He's hit six home runs already, tying his total from last year. Send him to the All-Star Game!

Hunter Pence can hit! For all his defensive flaws (which are ample), he's socked nine homers with 25 RBIs. He might be the team's only non-Chooch deep ball threat. Yet his .798 OPS is behind guys like Martin Prado and Alejandro De Aza, He's the new Ryan Howard!

Placido Polanco isn't dead yet! A .288/.321/.368 slash line isn't much to write home about, but it's more than I expected from a 36-year-old who started off the season ice cold. Trade for the right third baseman in a few months and Polly might become an extremely useful utility infielder.

And the aces are the aces. I'm obviously including Joe Blanton in that group, he of the 2.96 ERA and 5.0 strikeout-to-walk ratio. The team can't seem to get Roy Halladay and Cliff Lee a win (three in 13 starts this year) but 28 quality starts (tied for most in the National League) mean at least the potential for victories, and 246.2 innings pitched (tops in the NL) have meant plenty of rest for the bullpen.

Keeping all those relievers on the bench has been key, too, because their 5.19 ERA is the worst in all of baseball. Jose Contreras looks cooked, Chad Qualls shouldn't be pitching anywhere near the 8th inning and Antonio Bastardo has not recaptured his early 2011 form. Meaning he's been excellent (1.64 ERA, 1.091 WHIP) but not utterly dominant (0.82 ERA, 0.76 WHIP before last year's All-Star Game).

In other bad news, John Mayberry's line (.247/.269/.337) has us all wishing for Greg Golson back. And Jimmy Rollins (.231/.278/.293) has been even worse. Maybe his contract was the one we should've been bitching about all offseason, not Jonathan Papelbon's (10 saves, 2.40 ERA, 0.867 WHIP).

Meanwhile, everyone keeps saying "Wait until Ryan Howard and Chase Utley get back." But no one knows exactly what those guys will bring to the table. Their names may still strike fear into the hearts of managers who don't read FanGraphs or pay attention to injury reports, but their level of tangible production remains to be seen.

My diagnosis: It could be worse. Unexpected contributors are keeping the team afloat, by which I mean "slightly below average." Ty Wigginton and Juan Pierre have been serviceable, and Vance Worley has given the team 44 innings that were much like the 131 and two-thirds he gave them last year.

But Wigginton and Pierre could turn back into pumpkins at any moment, and Worley's already on the DL with ominous-sounding elbow trouble. To keep this team competitive, the two stars will have to return (even if they're propped up with sunglasses on like Bernie) and Ruben Amaro Jr. will have to swing one of his patented trade-deadline deals. No one wants to empty the prospect cupboard anymore than they already have, but if they're close, it'll be up to Amaro to push them over the top again and take one more crack at this.

Either way, they'll need to play some damn good baseball from here on out to catch the pesky Washington Nationals and/or the battle-tested Atlanta Braves. And if things are still going sour in July, for the first time in a while, heads will start to roll.

Basically, I have no idea. And neither do they, I think. All we have, 37 games into 2012, is more questions.

It's all over.

This series was over even before Brendan Shanahan suspended Claude Giroux for Game 5.

Why, you say? From the start of Game 2 to the end of Game 4, the Philadelphia Flyers and New Jersey Devils played roughly 197 minutes of hockey. And by my admittedly unscientific calculations, the Flyers have controlled about 20 minutes of those three games.

Twenty minutes. That's it.

Unexpectedly, but thoroughly, the Devils have dominated the Flyers.

Not in a Pittsburgh Penguins sort of way, a "10 goals in 60 minutes" clusterfuck that leaves a team dazed but intact. New Jersey has been slow and methodical. Their forecheck has been excellent, and so has their puck movement. They're in front of every Flyers shot, and they're winning every single board battle.

They're not reinventing the wheel, nor are they doing anything that Peter Laviolette and his team haven't seen before.

And yet it's all still working. The Flyers have no answer for any of it. Game 4 was their chance to take back the series, and it ended up being maybe their worst effort of the playoffs.

A good deal of it appears to be hustle and hard work, or a complete lack thereof. Wayne Simmonds will give up the puck if you blow on him, and Jaromir Jagr just looks out of gas. Poorly timed line changes, taking frustrated penalties, a failure to backcheck properly; they've committed all the cardinal sins.

At first it seemed like the Flyers were looking past the Devils; now they just look flummoxed. Some have even suggested that the younger guys were thrown off their game by the wackiness of the Penguins series and aren't sure how to readjust to this type of pressure.

I just can't see how that could be the case, or even an excuse. Besides a series of hidden injuries that are crippling the team's best players, there are no excuses. Until that bit of information comes out (and you know it will, at least a little), all we can say for sure is that Peter DeBoer is outcoaching Peter Laviolette, and the Devils are outworking the Flyers.

The sad part is, the good Ilya Bryzgalov finally showed up for Game 4. And he was OK at worst, solid at best for Games 2 and 3. On a list of what's wrong with the team, Bryz doesn't even crack my top 10.

But it doesn't matter at this point. Even at his best, Bryz isn't close to what Jonathan Quick or Mike Smith have been in these playoffs; I don't see him outright stealing one game, let alone three. Especially if the Devils keep camping out in the Flyers' end. And I see no reason to believe they won't; the Flyers have convinced me that whatever they had going for them previously is irreparably broken.

This is a young team with a lot of promise and some legitimate stars-in-the-making. Their future remains bright. But after taking down Pittsburgh, I thought the future might be now. At the very least, I thought a Rangers/Flyers match-up in the Eastern Conference Finals was all but a certainty.

It would seem that most of us looked past the New Jersey Devils. Or maybe we gave the Flyers far too much credit for beating a sloppy Penguins team. Either way, short of a miracle that, in my mind, would be equally as impressive as coming back against Boston in 2010, tonight's game should be the season's last in Philadelphia.

As my dad texted me late on Sunday night, "I am running out of years for another Cup. Hopefully it'll happen before I am senile." He'll be 54 in a few days. I still like his odds, but a week ago I liked them a hell of a lot more.

Tonight, tonight.

For about 50 hours, the Philadelphia Flyers seemed unbeatable.

After one of the worst first periods you'll ever see, the Flyers dominated Game 1 against the New Jersey Devils, the 4-3 final tally not reflecting how badly the Devils were outmatched over the last 30 minutes.

And once Matt Read tallied an early goal two days later in Game 2, the confidence came in waves. The Flyers were just more talented than the Devils. New Jersey was nothing more than a speed-bump on the way to a destined Eastern Conference Finals showdown with the New York Rangers.

But then, just like that, the tide started to turn. The Devils started applying pressure. None of the Flyers' shots from the point were getting through. The ice, as it so often does in the Stanley Cup playoffs, was beginning to tilt.

Thankfully, Ilya Bryzgalov was tending goal like a $51 million man should. The second period was probably Bryz's most impressive as a Flyer: 12 saves, a key postseason game, almost all the action in his own end.

And it should've been a rally starter. Your goalie -- and the horn -- save the day, and a quick locker-room pep talk gets everyone's legs moving for the final 20 minutes.

But not on Tuesday night. After a brief early Flyer flurry in the third, the Devils finally snuck one past Bryzgalov. Then another one. The third was a dagger; the fourth, an afterthought.

Suddenly, the Devils were looking a lot more pesky. And the Flyers seemed flabbergasted. They, like the rest of us, must've thought it was already over.

Maybe they were already looking past New Jersey. Maybe they just forgot that every team in the Stanley Cup playoffs, even the ones that were lucky enough to play Florida in the first round, are dangerous.

Whatever it was, they can make up for it tonight. Come out, battle like you battled in Game 6 of the Pittsburgh series and beat the tar out of New Jersey on their home ice. The series is back in your hands, and everybody remembers that it's supposed to be Flyers and the Rangers dueling for a shot at the Stanley Cup.

But Jaromir Jagr suddenly looks very old, and nobody fully trusts Bryz, and Braydon Coburn and Matt Carle are being relied on for a buttload of minutes. The Flyers are more talented, but how much more talented? And nothing in the hockey postseason, not even talent, guarantees victory.

Besides, it was supposed to be Phillies/Rangers in the 2010 World Series. Hell, it was supposed to be Phillies/Rangers last year, too. Roy Halladay, Cliff Lee, Cole Hamels, Chase Utley: It didn't matter. In the end, being the better team wasn't enough. The hottest, the smartest, the timeliest; that's what counted.

If the Flyers don't play smart, timely hockey and recapture that momentum, much like the Rangers did last night in DC, then this seemingly inevitable date with destiny might end up being nothing more than a pipe dream.

On to the next one.

It was roughly a year ago when the Philadelphia Flyers beat the Buffalo Sabres in seven games. In theory, this was a good thing; the charge for the Cup had begun anew.

But a little post-series optimism couldn't hide the fact that the Flyers were a flawed team. A late-season collapse carried over into the tougher-than-it-should-be showdown with the Sabres. And, as we all know, the Boston Bruins made them pay in the next round.

But in 2012, the excitement doesn't have to be faked or manufactured. A truly talented team was vanquished in Philadelphia on Sunday afternoon, and the Flyers have all the makings of a legit Stanley Cup contender.

The rookies are shining. The future captain is dominating. Ilya Bryzgalov came up big with 30 saves (just a game later than I'd hoped) and the defense was absolutely tremendous (40 blocked shots).

It got a little scary there, after the Game 4 thrashing and Marc-Andre Fleury's Game 5 goaltending clinic, but that's the best part of going up 3-0 in a seven-game series: It's damn hard for the other team to come back. Even if you're the "best team in the NHL," as many experts anointed Pittsburgh before the playoffs even began, the odds are good that you'll run out of gas.

And so the Penguins did. It was one of the zanier series in recent memory, and up until this weekend, asking whether either team had what it takes to play actual playoff hockey and make a serious Cup run was legitimate.

But Game 6 proved that the Flyers can play a 60-minute hockey game. They can forecheck, they can play defense, they can clear the crease and clog the passing lanes.

Whether they will do those things throughout the playoffs remains up for debate. My guess is yes; I think both teams lulled each other into a wide-open, up-and-back kinda game that neither really wanted to play. Things got out of hand quickly, and it wasn't until Games 5 and 6 that everyone worked out the jitters and settled down into a tighter, smarter style.

Luckily, the Flyers ended up being the survivors. And we learned a few things along the way: Some great comebacks showed that you can't ever count them out, and a solid Bryzgalov performance in the clincher (along with a nice long rest in before the coming series) might quell at least a few goalie-related fears. Bryz will never be perfect -- he probably won't outplay Henrik Lundqvist or Tim Thomas -- but he can do the job. I believe he can, at least.

But no one would turn down a little help from the hockey gods. Most Flyers fans are praying for a Washington Capitals win tomorrow or an Ottawa Senators upset on Thursday (or both) to avoid the vaunted Boston Bruins and New York Rangers in the second round. And, admittedly, the road to the Stanley Cup becomes a hell of a lot smoother without those two teams around.

So let's hope that fortune smiles on Philadelphia and the two biggest remaining threats to Flyers supremacy fall by the wayside. No offense to preferred opponents like the Florida Panthers or the New Jersey Devils, but nobody in Philly wants to be the best by beating the best. We just want the Flyers to win.

And if this series with Pittsburgh proved anything, it's that they can.

Time to shine, $51 million man.

In the wee hours that followed Game 2, I wrote that this Philadelphia Flyers/Pittsburgh Penguins series was "all about Bryz."

And in the wake of Game 4, this is more true than ever.

Ilya Bryzgalov was awful on Wednesday night. It's easy to forget that the Flyers had a 3-2 lead in the first period because of how fast Bryz gave it away. Five goals on 18 shots, especially in the playoffs, is the definition of pitiful.

But the Flyers still need him, because Sergei Bobrovsky was no better (five goals on 18 shots in his own right) and because this team will go as far as the goalie can take them.

He'll start Game 5. Hell, barring another epic collapse, he'll start Game 6.

He's their $51 million man, the guy who set the team's all-time shutout streak record earlier this year.

And he's as talented as he is mercurial, as skilled at tending goal as he is at getting in his own way.

Bryz was seemingly made of solid wood last night (and not in a good way), letting fat rebounds bounce off his rigid body and moving painfully slow from post to post.

Is his injured foot still bothering him? Or was it just a case of wilting under the pressure?

Doesn't matter. No one is happy that Bryz (and, to be fair, the rest of his team) came up incredibly small in a potential elimination game for Pittsburgh.

But there are three games left to make it right. The Flyers are 2-0 at Consol Energy Center in the playoffs and 4-0 there (minus the irrelevant last game of the season) in 2012.

This could all still end up being a funny footnote on the way to a Stanley Cup run.

But the defensemen have to play better (and probably without Nick Grossmann, for at least a game). The forwards need to backcheck and play some kind of defense themselves.

And, for once in this series, Bryz needs to put this team on his back. He made some sterling saves in Game 2, but now a superhuman effort is needed.

The Penguins are a dynamic offensive team, and the pressure in this series has started to shift. Easiest way to rise above that? A knockout game from your superstar goalie.

All about Bryz.

It's about so much more than Ilya Bryzgalov.

But in the end, it's only about Ilya Bryzgalov.

In the first round of the 2011 Stanley Cup playoffs, the Philadelphia Flyers used three different goaltenders.

In 2012, there is only Bryz.

Sean Couturier and Claude Giroux both had hat tricks last night in Pittsburgh to steal an unbelievable 8-5 win over the Penguins.

But the highlight turned out to be this game-changing Bryzgalov save.

It's weird to look at a high-scoring game like this and point to goaltending as a key factor, but no Philadelphia fan would ever shortchange what Ilya Bryzgalov brought to the table in Game 2.

Maybe he wasn't the deciding factor, but it's become surprisingly comforting to see Bryz in the Flyers' net.

There was chaos all over the ice. Shots were coming from every angle, goals were being scored at an incredible pace. Sidney Crosby, Giroux and Evgeni Malkin -- the three best players in the National Hockey League -- seemingly lurked around every corner. Fans on either side of the rivalry were terrified.

But Bryz -- despite Pittsburgh's 28 shots, despite a minor freakout following the Penguins' fourth goal of the night, despite a reputation of coming up short in the playoffs -- never lost his cool.

This wasn't a game about save percentage or goals against average. It was about survival, and at the end Ilya Bryzgalov stood triumphant while Stanley Cup-winning goalie Marc-Andre Fleury floundered.

In Philadelphia, it's always about the goaltending.

And for the first time in a long time, Philadelphia has a goaltender they can stand behind.

Flyin' high.

It was roughly a month ago at the Wells Fargo Center in Philadelphia, and my dad and I were furious. I'm paraphrasing, but our conversation went something like this:

"Goddamn Flyers."

"Can't get anything going."

"No pressure, getting beat to every puck."

"Thank god for Bryz, else this would be a real blowout."

It was the game's second intermission, and the Pittsburgh Penguins were pushing the Philadelphia Flyers around. Shots were 27 to 10 in favor of the Penguins, and the Flyers had gotten just two of those off in the last 20 minutes. Sidney Crosby's return seemed to be elevating Pittsburgh to new heights, skill-wise and emotionally. There was no reason to believe that the third period would be any different.

But there we were, about 30 minutes later, hugging and screaming our heads off when Scott Hartnell ended the game with a deep wrister that snuck by Marc-Andre Fleury.

It was arguably the best comeback in recent Flyers history...until Wednesday night, when Brayden Schenn and Jake Voracek combined to take down the Penguins yet again and make Paul Holmgren look like even more of a genius.

This most recent resurgence was probably even more unexpected. It was the playoffs. It was in Pittsburgh, versus the trendy pick to win the Stanley Cup. And it was a seemingly insurmountable 3-0 deficit. Even with two periods to play, that's usually curtains.

But something happened as the game moved forward. Did the Penguins run out of gas after a blistering start? Did the Flyers begin to control the tempo, forcing Pittsburgh out of their puck-control mindset and creating a bunch more scoring chances on each end? Or did Ilya Bryzgalov just outplay Fleury from the second period on, keeping his boys in the game and starting the momentum shift that led to the Penguins' eventual demise?

Whatever it was, the Flyers shouldn't try and replicate the situation tonight. NHL teams aren't gonna blow many 3-0 leads at home, no matter the situation or opponent.

But it happened, and it puts the Penguins in a nice little hole. For whatever reason, there's something about the Flyers that makes them difficult to bury. Especially in the friendly confines of the Consol Energy Center.

Are the Flyers, as owner Ed Snider suggested, in the Penguins' heads?

Nah. Pittsburgh's just too talented. Probably nothing more than the post-game ramblings of a riled-up old man.

Win tonight's game and take the series back to Philadelphia with a 2-0 lead, however, and then you might have me sold.

The Flyers are owned by the New York Rangers. Owned. Meaning the Rangers won all six times the two teams played this year. If the Flyers happen to run into New York in the playoffs, I expect the ass-kicking to be swift and fierce.

But maybe the Flyers own the Penguins, too. Out of 2011-2012's five relevant meetings (the sixth game didn't matter for either team), Philadelphia won four of them.

And now the Flyers have an early (and unexpected) chance to step on the Penguins' throats. My brain tells me that this is a probable seven-game series and Pittsburgh won't go down so easily. But my gut says that Wednesday's game was a goddamn back-breaker, and recent history allows us to assume that Evgeni Malkin and Sidney Crosby, noted arrogant whiners, might be getting a little bit frustrated.

"Who are these guys from Philadelphia? Why can't we take them down?"

I certainly expect the series to be knotted at 1-1 by midnight tonight. But after seeing what happened on Wednesday night, and experiencing that equally glorious bounce-back up close and personal back in mid-March, I don't think anybody out there can really say for sure.

Bring on your wrecking ball.

There are, admittedly, more than a few reasons to be pessimistic about the 2012 Philadelphia Phillies. Chase Utley and Ryan Howard will start the season on the disabled list. Placido Polanco is all but destined to join them. John Mayberry Jr. and Vance Worley are likely to regress from their stellar 2011 performances. And the team won 102 games last year, which is hard to top under any circumstances.

But come on! It's the start of the baseball season; everyone's even (including the Mariners and Athletics). Here are some nuggets that'll turn that frown upside down:

Freddy Galvis had a solid spring. His slash line won't bowl you over (.280/.295/.476 versus the random mishmosh that is spring training pitching) but somewhat capable hitting and plus defense would go a long way towards easing the pain of Chase Utley's inevitable demise. Let's cross our fingers and root for the .261/.299/.359 projected by ZiPS.

Jonathan Papelbon is good at throwing baseballs. Say what you will about Pap's contract; it's hard to argue with a career 4.43 strikeout-to-walk ratio and a 1.018 WHIP. We'll all be crushed if he breaks down before the end of this four-year deal, but I don't think there's any reason for concern in 2012 or even 2013.

Cole Hamels, Cliff Lee and Roy Halladay still pitch in Philly. I know a lot of people were nervous about Roy Halladay's early struggles, but I'll start worrying when a little fire follows all that smoke. Otherwise, these three had a quiet spring, which is the best kind if you're a veteran pitcher. No one else has aces like these. No one.

Jimmy Rollins, Carlos Ruiz, Shane Victorino and Hunter Pence still hit in Philly. These guys are all really good at baseball. Chooch hit .479 in spring training. Rollins is back where he belongs a year after putting up an OPS+ of over 100 for the first time since 2008. Victorino was the team's offensive MVP last year, and Pence hit .324/.394/.560 in a Phillies uniform. Barring injuries (which are always a concern for everyone but Pence), there's not much to worry about here.

This video:



Isn't that great? Pap and his unexpectedly endearing arrogance. Jim Thome's ol'-fashioned ballplayer attitude. Howard's overall congeniality. Cliffy's blatant whatever-ness.

This is a fun team. These are fun guys. They've been enjoyable to watch and exciting to root for. Ten years ago, we would've killed for a squad like this. 

I think Philadelphia baseball fans have acquired a bit of a complex. Not like Boston fans, who now expect nothing but success (and are flabbergasted and insufferable whenever they "somehow" fall short), but a certain all-encompassing neediness where we want all the best players, only the best record, the biggest free agent signings, the most bang for our payroll buck...everything. Maybe to prove to the rest of the league that this team is for real, that 2008 wasn't a fluke and that the Phillies really are one of the premier franchises in baseball.

Which is understandable, except when you falter in a few postseasons and become blind to the obvious. Like the fact that three of the top seven or eight starters in baseball all pitch in Philadelphia. Or that we've had the privilege of watching Utley, one of the best second basemen of all time, ply his trade for the last nine years. Or that this front office, for all its missteps, will go the extra mile and shell out for Roy Oswalt, or Lee, or Pence, or Halladay, or whoever is available that'll help the team. Name another group of executives in baseball who've given their manager and the players this much help, especially at the midseason point. Things haven't worked out perfectly, but you can't say they haven't tried.

I know this doesn't mean much when talking about 2012 -- a "what's wrong" post would be twice as long as what I'm writing here -- but even after all the injuries, even without Howard and Utley, they still might be the best team in the National League. That's more an indictment of the league itself, but it's still very much true. Plus, you don't win any championships in April; if you did, the Phillies would have brought home two or three more.

Here is the 2012 prediction that I shared earlier today on Beerleaguer:

92 wins, another division title. The three aces all have great, relatively healthy years. Pap dominates. The offense sputters, despite a midseason trade for someone like Alberto Callaspo to fill in for an injured Polanco. Galvis is solid at worst. Utley contributes next to nothing.

Phillies win the World Series anyway. Everyone recognizes that dark times are ahead. Nobody cares.

And I meant every word of it. There are no sureties, in life or baseball, but I'm not prepared to write the Phillies off just yet. This upcoming season, for all our dourness, could end up surprising a whole bunch of people. Or, as Bruce Springsteen would put it, "C'mon and take your best shot, let me see what you got. Bring on your wrecking ball."