Seat 22

Competition.  It is at the root of almost everything that we do.  To compete means to battle, to work hard, and potentially to struggle.  So why do we like it so much?  Why do we as human beings seek out competition and weave it into the many threads that construct the meaning of our lives?  I think it’s because that battle, that struggle to succeed, is what defines us.  You can only measure the quality of your success by the magnitude of what sacrifices it took to get there.

We are emotional beings, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.  Some people may have thicker skin than others, but that just means their struggle is that much more personal to them and they protect that truth with walls of sternness.  What no individual can hide from is the fact that competition exists all around us – on a practical scale, we compete against each other as individuals, we like to place friendly wagers when we disagree so that we can be rewarded for “being right,” we compete against tough material in the classroom, or the impossible economy in the workplace.  Then on an intangible scale we compete against standards, the status quo, doubt, adversity, and what is usually referred to as the impossible.

We sometimes forget that all these arenas of competition exist, because we want to pretend that we are passive beings whose lives are not defined by competition.  Well nobody is fooling me.  And so while this article is about sports, I wanted to lead in with a reminder that even if you’re not a sports fan, you are still a competitor, which should give you an adequate frame of reference for what I have to say…

It was unreal on Wednesday, sitting in seat 22.  It all ended right where it started.  And this 24-year old author was taken back to the spring of 1994.  It was the tail end of my time in 1^st grade and I was a scrawny little kid with a lisp that could rival nails on a chalkboard.  On a storybook spring morning, 45 minutes north of New York City, my dad was headed out the door for the Pony League coaches meeting.  This was a big day because not only did you get the team roster and equipment, but you also got the uniforms. 

I had been waiting for this day for a while – my older brother Joe had already played two seasons of little league by now and had jerseys from the Houston Astros and Chicago Cubs to prove it.  Now it was my turn to get a jersey…finally.

I sat in my parents’ bathroom and watched my dad shave, which had become part of my routine in getting up early during the week to see him off to work.  Then as he brushed his teeth, I asked him to please try to get Mets jerseys, which at the time sounded something like “Daddy, pleaschh try to get the Metschh.”  Joe was a Yankee fan, and in the same way that Joe loving Batman and Chip had made me favor Robin and Dale, I wanted the Mets to combat Joe’s Yankees. 

My dad said he would try, but that a lot of people were going to try for the Mets.  I said that was fine, and just hoped for something to separate me from Joe – so no Yankees, Astros, or Cubs, and I’d be a happy camper.  Then, in the moment where my Dad walked out the door, my mother unknowingly changed my life forever when she said, “Frank, if you can’t get the Mets, get that new teal team – they will be easy to see when I pull up to the parking lot so I know what field you guys are playing at.”  My dad came home that sunny April Saturday with a black trash bag of teal jerseys, and though it wasn’t what I had asked for, I threw on that #6 Marlins jersey for the first time and it still hasn’t come off.

Where it all started...

The Florida Marlins entered the league a year before I entered the world of baseball, but because it was during the player strike, I like to think that the two of us came into baseball together.  Knowing that they were a new team and I was a new player, it stuck.  I’ve been a fan of the Marlins for my entire life, and many people have come to reference me as the only Marlins fan that they know.  As I grew up through the 90’s, the Marlins became synonymous with my young identity.  As a Catholic school attendee, uniforms were a must, but every once in a while we were rewarded with “play-clothes.”  Consistent as the sunrise, every time I got a chance to wear play-clothes, I made sure to sport some Marlins gear, to show people that I was proud of being the only Marlins fan they knew and that I could give two craps about the Bronx Bombers.

I could continue on and tell you the whole timeline of my Marlins fanship – but I’ll stick to the highlights.  I’ll never forget 1997, coming home from school during the NLDS to catch the afternoon Game 1 between the Marlins and San Francisco Giants.  I then remember having to play the Atlanta Braves who were on the early end of their NL East supremacy with a historic pitching rotation.  After dispatching of the Braves in 6 games behind Livan Hernandez’s dominance on the mound, it was on to the Cleveland Indians for the big money.  I remember the only regret I had in winning the World Series that season was that it wasn’t against the Yanks. 

A 5^th grader at the time, I went to school the next day, like a kid in a candy store, only to have the Yankees fans take away my celebration, “you’re lucky you didn’t have to play us, we would have crushed you.”  Though a completely irrational argument, because the Yankees weren’t even good enough to get out of the first round that year, that was my first exposition to the true mantra of Yankees fans; gloat when we win, excuse when we lose (see the argument: we have 27 rings).  It made the sweetness of my first championship (which, by the way, came much earlier than the Yanks’ first franchise title) taste sour.

Fortunately for me, karma seemed to take note that it now owed a debt to me.  In 2003, I witnessed what I believe to be the best pair of pennant battles in my lifetime; the Marlins taking on the Cubs and the Boston Red Sox battling the Yanks.  After a dramatic seven game series with the Cubbies, the Marlins had won the NL Pennant, making them 2-for-2 in such situations (that’s a better win percentage than the Yanks can boast…for those of you keeping score at home).  The next night was Game 7 of the ALCS, and for the first and only time in my life, I rooted for the New York Yankees.  When Aaron Boone hit that homerun I was speechless; six years after I heard my first jab about how the Yanks would have dominated the Marlins in the World Series, it was now time for Yankee fans to do something they often failed to do, back up all that trash talk.  Too bad they weren’t up to the challenge.

In 2003 the Florida Marlins dominated the New York Yankees behind two wins from Brad Penny, an 11^th inning Alex Gonzalez walk-off homerun, and a 5-hit series-clinching shutout behind the arm of World Series MVP Josh Beckett.  The next day I had the opportunity to tell Yankee fans something that I had wanted to say from the moment they ruined my first championship, something that most baseball fans long to tell them today – shut up.  But I didn’t. I didn’t gloat, I didn’t rub it in, I didn’t want to sink to their level.  I had taken junk throughout the whole series without saying anything, especially when we went down 2-1, but on this day, the day after we were crowned champs, my silence was deafening.

I know that people will continue to make fun of the Marlins, their two “fire sales,” their poor attendance, and their predominantly sub-par performance.  I’ll tell you what though, I’m glad I didn’t end up with a Mets or Cubs jersey back in ‘94, otherwise I’d still be waiting on my first big win, instead of having celebrated two unforgettable ones.

So there I sat in Section 102, Row 8, Seat 22, on Wednesday, literally taking hundreds of pictures as if it would help me to absorb the moment.  I was joined by over 34,000 other spectators who came out to say goodbye to the only sports team I’ve ever loved.

It was unreal to be a part of something like that; to have taken the whole ride with a team and then to be there in person to witness the end of an era.  What I did realize is that the Florida Marlins that I knew while growing up had started to fade away a long time ago.  Ever since the team was bought by current owner Jeffrey Loria, the team has been changing.  Loria, who was literally handed a World Series capable team, assumed ownership in 2002, and then took credit for the Marlins Championship season in 2003.  That series-clinching tag by Beckett on Jorge Posada was the end of the real Florida Marlins. 

Since then the Marlins have wheeled and dealed, slowly trading away all of their World Series contributors.  Whether the media would agree with me or not, as a true fan, I will tell you what it felt like since 2002.  It felt like Loria was a very selfish owner.  The most basic example is how he slowly transitioned teal out of the team’s color scheme simply because he didn’t like it – I guess 10 years of history doesn’t count for anything.  In addition, Loria and his stepson, team president David Samson, have been adamant about taking credit for all of the Marlins successes and none of their failures.  They seem to have been more interested with leaving their mark on the team, than with the team leaving their mark on the field.  Right or wrong, bitter or unbiased, that’s a fan’s perspective; and I’m sure that I’m not alone.

The truth is that since 2003, the Marlins have been fading away into a team that was “once upon a time,” and this past Wednesday was just the official book-end on an amazing run.  I hope that the Miami Marlins, set to enter the world of Major League Baseball on 11/11 of this year, can carry at least a little bit of the Florida Marlins legacy.  It’s too soon to tell right now how it will feel – if I will be as diehard about the Miami fish as I was about the Florida ones.  I think it will be ok though, because as I sat there in seat 22 this week and looked at this father and son in front of me (both sporting some Marlins gear), I thought that some day I’ll take my little boy to see our Marlins play.

Getting my pic with a fellow "life-er"

This article is my tribute to the Marlins, and all that they have brought to my life.  The Marlins taught me how to believe in the impossible, how to be an underdog, and how to never give up.  Looking back on the years, I can say that I cheered for them passionately and defended them at every moment.  Maybe it’s something I picked up from my New York stomping grounds.  Clearly I’m not shy about my distaste for the Yankees, but I cannot deny the bond I have with those diehard fans from the Bronx – we both love our teams.

And that’s the connection.  As much as competition can pit us against each other; whether it’s a fellow student in the classroom, a co-worker at the office, a player on the field or another fan in the stands, competition is something that brings us together.  If we listen hard enough, competition is a language that we all speak, just in different dialects.  But it’s important to appreciate that, to know that people can have the same level of investment in different things.  And so while I love to watch the Yankees lose, I will never hesitate to throw their fans a bone, because I know how dedicated they are.

Seat 22.  I can officially say that I am the last person to ever sit in that seat in the history of the Florida Marlins.  And I will be there on 4/4/12 this spring to be the first person to sit in a seat (number TBD) in the history of the Miami Marlins.  Words cannot describe the way that 18 years flashed before my eyes as I sat in that stadium.  I remembered the few good seasons, the many bad ones, all the jokes I’ve had directed at me, and all the wishful predictions I’ve made.  And then just when I thought the experience had been capped off, they play the top 10 moments in Marlins history up on the stadium big screens.  By time they got to number 1, I knew who I would see.  I knew I’d see the man whose picture has been above my bed since I was 10 years old. 

Surely enough, as goosebumps filled my arms, Edgar Renteria was up on the screen in the bottom of the 11^th inning.  It was 10/26/97 all over again and I was sitting on the floor of my parents’ bedroom after midnight.  And then, as if on cue, Edgar took that Charles Nagy pitch and lined it up the middle of the infield to send Craig Counsell home to a mob of ecstatic Marlins.  It was over. We did it.  And then I was back in 2011, sitting in Sun Life Stadium for the last time, eyes filled with water.  I stood on my chair and applauded with the other 34,000 strong, said thanks so much for the ride, grabbed my game program, picked up my camera, and for the last time said goodbye, to seat 22.

The Buc Starts Here

This might not be the piece that you're looking for.  In fact, if you've become accustomed to the sports-talk of our time, it's probably not.  This piece is not going to speculate, criticize, lecture, or know better than anyone else.  This piece will not talk about what the Pirates have done.  It will not talk about what the Pirates might do or should do.  This piece will not talk about who the Pirates were, who they could be, or who they should be.  Plain and simple, because there is not enough focus on just this one thing, this piece will talk about what the Pittsburgh Pirates are doing.

I've started to notice it; in these last few months.  It's only my second season working for the team, but something was different.  I used to be the only bicycle on the rack outside the stadium; but I suddenly found myself hoping to get a spot.  Hoping for a parking spot...on a bike...are you kidding me?  No I'm not, it's really been that full.  I remember last season, going out to sling t-shirts on a weeknight, and making jokes about how we could give out two to each fan in attendance.  Not anymore.  Now you can sling in any direction you want because on a Tuesday night there's over 26,000 fans hoping to grab one of the 20 shirts that we give away.

I remember leaving the stadium after working a game during the '10 season and having the Clemente Bridge all to myself as I biked back across the river.  Last night, for the first time ever, I had to take the Warhol Bridge because Roberto's route had more traffic than the Fort Pitt and Squirrel Hill tunnels combined.  I remember that as employees we could request tickets almost any night that we wanted because "the Pirates don't sell out, except for Opening Day."  Hah, not anymore...and what a good problem to have.  I remember that when we got assigned to raise the Jolly Roger, it meant being stuck at the stadium till the end of the game to see if the Bucs could mount a miraculous comeback.  Now if you get the job of "flag" it means you get to hang around to watch the latest edition of "Hammer Time," and then elevate the skull and crossbones on Greg Brown's cue.

In what's said to be a "football town," who just a year ago was talking non-stop about the outcome of the adolescent behavior of their quarterback; there's been no talk of pigskin around these parts lately.  Even with the NFL strike providing plenty of potential storylines, mum has been the word.  Truth is, this summer there are more important things going on then football speculation, it's called baseball season.  Around here they call it "Bucco Fever," but I call it hope, because I've felt it before and I know what it looks like.

I'd love to be able to claim that I am a lifetime or die-hard Bucco fan, but that wouldn't be fair to the people who have truly earned those distinctions.  I myself happen to be a Florida Marlins fan, and that is why I know what all this "hope" looks like.  I've been a fish fan since I was in 1st grade, when they joined the league in '93, and growing up in New York it was no easy task as I was the butt of many jokes.  The Marlins were an eye-sore more often than not, but they sure had their moments of hope and glory.  Winning it all in '97 was a semi-underdog story, but that team was pretty well built with a nice size price tag.  It was in '03 that they truly shocked the world.  I remember bits and pieces from that summer, when I started to hope.  It was twice that bench player, Mike Mordecai, hit a game-winning homer in extra innings.  And then in another game when the pinch hit king, Lenny Harris, roped a hit off of the then-dominant Eric Gagne to spark a come-from-behind win.  It was the little moments like that, that you won't read about in Sports Illustrated or see on ESPN that gave me hope.  I remember when it got to September of the '03 season and all of a sudden the Marlins would be televised nationally twice a week, and they'd always make it into the first 10 minutes of SportsCenter, sometimes as the lead story.  I remember having mixed emotions, being ecstatic that the team I always loved was finally getting attention, but bitter about the people who all of a sudden were cramming their way onto my bandwagon.

It was shortly after the Marlins won it all on '03 that I started to follow other teams around the league more consistently.  Naturally, I chose to keep my eye on the underdogs...I guess I felt for them, and wanted to see them succeed.  One of those teams was the Pirates.  I started tracking their progress my freshmen year of college ('06), identifying favorite players like Chris Duffy, Ronny Paulino, and Mike Gonzalez.  Sure enough, now a few years later, I find myself in Pittsburgh not only rooting for, but working for the team that had played 100 seasons by time I was born.  And as I spend more time at the park, I recognize the ever-present hope that I myself experienced in 2003.

Again, this piece is not going to talk about what might happen though, and if you think I'm speculating about the Bucs winning the World Series, please do not let me confuse you.  My point is that when an underdog gets hot and people start jumping on the bandwagon (cough cough, John Kruk, who is an obvious Phillies fan) it's easy to start wanting more.  And I've witnessed it around the park - trade speculations, playoff speculations, optimism, pessimism, etc.

I wrote this piece to say lets stop worrying about how bad the Bucs have been in the past, or how great they might be in the future, and just enjoy the fact that they are playing some inspired ball, right here, right now, in the present.  What a gift to a city that so adores their sports teams.

And so what if it doesn't last forever.  Some analysts are already speculating about when the demise might come, when they might fall out of it, or cool off.  There's really no need to look ahead at the schedule, because the Bucs have been doing great one night at a time.  And even if they fell out of the race, they could hold their heads high, because we know it wouldn't have been for a lack of effort.  I mean wow, what a summer that they've given to the fans so far.

Home of the Buccos

Although I won't speculate, I will note some facts.  I know that like those aforementioned Marlins moments, the Bucs have had a few of their own this summer - from a late-inning McKenry homerun to a Josh Harrison bare-handed scoop at the hot corner, these kids are giving this town a reason to hope.  And if you think it's just the players you are dead wrong.  When baseball magic starts to kick in, there are several factors at play.  It takes a lot of things being in the right place at the right time, but once the cycle gets going, it can be pretty special.  First the team needs to matter enough to get fans in the seats.  Then the fans inspire the players and give them something to play for.  Next thing you know you've got a storybook summer.  A winning baseball team doesn't need big salary players, famous names, or the biggest national fan base.  They just need fans who can count on their players and players who are confident in themselves.  All it takes is a glimmer of hope, which is what the Bucs have right now.  And while that's good enough to enjoy, regardless of how the next 10 weeks go; it would be pretty special to see the Pittsburgh atmosphere transform from a city who is hoping, to a city who is believing.

What a treat for me.  This franchise and fan base have endured 18 years of sub-500 seasons, and in only my second year living in the city, I get to see them make a run like they haven't made in close to two decades.  I couldn't be more happy for them.  This winter at the team's preseason event, PirateFest, I got a chance to spend some time talking to Jeff Karstens (RHP).  The guy didn't have a big head, or glance past me as someone who wasn't worth his time; rather, he held a regular conversation and didn't seem at all concerned with getting somewhere else.  Furthermore, earlier this season the team had a "photos with the fans" day, and I got to manage the line at the tent where Josh Harrison (IF), Garret Jones (OF,1B) and Jose Veras (RHP) were sitting.  The three of them could not have been more kind to the fans, giving high-fives, making jokes, and staying past the deadline to take a few extra pictures.  So I root for those guys when I see them out on the field, just as I root for their teammates who appeal to my underdog spirit.

And so, though I can't say I've endured 18 years of pain, or that I'm a Yinzer, or that I was raised on Primanti sandwiches - I can say that as a sports fan, being in this city at this time is something I'll never forget.  And win or lose, hang in or fall out, no matter how the season ends, I'll continue to tip my hat towards that beautiful ballpark that lines the Allegheny and say, "let's go bucs."

Breaking The Mold

So it's almost been a quarter of a century that I've been kickin' it on this planet and I've learned two solid facts.  Life is a funny thing and the world is a funny place.  I currently find myself at one of those proverbial forks in the road, and it has recently led me to take a step back and just stare for a little bit.

Life is funny because it is totally unpredictable.  Like the weatherman predicting rain for this entire week only to have the sun beam beautifully every day, you can have expectations or even "sure things" planned in your life, but it really only takes one second to change it all.  Even right now, before I finish this post, my phone could ring with great news about x, y, or z and I would be on top of the world; or it could ring with bad news about the health of a family member and I would be devastated beyond reason.  Between the moment the phone rings, and the moment that I actually hear the news, my entire life could be changed.  And that is why life is funny - because the only way to figure it out is to live it.

The world is funny because the world doesn't know what it wants.  If the world was a man, I would describe him as hypocritical, indecisive, or dramatic.  I think of two phrases here, "less is more" and "silence is golden."  In recent years these phrases have helped me to bite my tongue more often than not, and I'm glad for that.  I have realized that you add more value to what you say, based on the infrequency with which you say it.  Like paper flyers used as advertisements, anything that is too frequent becomes routinely tuned out.  I've also come to believe that you should not proclaim things that have not yet come to you.  Again, less is more and silence is golden.  Not to go biblical on you guys, but there is a gospel passage where Jesus tells us that when arriving to a table with two seats open, leave the one to His right side open, and sit in the seat at the far end of the table.  Better to sit at the far end and be called to the Lord's right side, than to sit near the head of the table and be told that you are in the wrong chair.  Ok, I'm done with analogies, I think you get the concept by now.  My point is that I don't think the world plays by these rules.  The world thinks that any time he has something on his mind he can say it, without reservation.  The world is a flake.  He sets these standards and expectations, he tells us to abide by a cultural code and how there is a common path we all need to travel.  But then he also encourages us to walk off the beaten path, and define our own destiny.  The world has no concrete values, he changes them based on each and every situation, to the extent that if we as people rely on the world, we are stashing money in a bottomless pocket.  And that is why the world is funny - because he is the first to talk, but the last to act.

Another thing that is funny to me is how as I've gotten older, I've started to place more value in the meaning of Disney movies.  For instance, I'm pretty confident that as we age, we all can understand pretty well why Peter Pan doesn't want to leave Neverland.  Who would want to leave Neverland?  Simply put, Neverland is the shit.  To leave is to become part of the world, part of a system, part of the man that always talks but never acts.  My intent here is not to exaggerate, because I know that there are countless men and women who are more than happy with their lives, who are successful, and who have great families.  That being said though, there's nothing quite like Neverland - there's really no rules, no stress, and no settling for less.

I firmly believe that the world has norms because he is insecure.  We create standards as a society because we are too afraid to make our own decisions.  Then, we get so accustomed to those norms that life carries on as plainly and complacently as Pleasantville.  It is at that point when the world changes his mind, and he tells us to be different.  He tells us to fill ourselves with color among this world of black and white.  He tells us that we should be breaking the mold.

The truth is, I agree with the world on this point.  We should be breaking the mold, because that is truly how evolution is implemented.  One generation uses the norms of the previous generation as a foundation to building their own brand new norms.  That is how animals and bacteria evolve, so why not us?  Well there is a significant problem with the evolution of humans - the ego.  Animals and bacteria can evolve easily because it seems to be a purely natural process rooted in biology.  Our evolution as a species is rooted more in our intellect than anything else, so our emotions naturally become involved.  The most keen observation I've made in my life is that more often than not, the people who walked the road before us don't like it when we try to walk further than them, because if they couldn't do it, why should we be able to?  And so that brings us back to Pleasantville, where everything is black and white, and life is the way it's always been.

The core issue here is that most of us have lost the ability or awareness to break the mold.  I think for that to change, we need to learn how to break our own personal molds before we worry about the societal ones.  That brings me back to my fork in the road - a fork that I'm sure people graduating from any level of education (or life for that matter) face more often than not.  The fork of "where do I go from here?"  There could be two paths in front of you, or there could be 20; so how do you choose?  We receive all types of influence while staring down the fork in the road - influence from friends, family, mentors, and the world himself.  The world tells us to dream, but not too big; to challenge ourselves, but not beyond reason; to avoid paths that are too safe, but also ones that are too risky; and to do something we love, but only if we get paid well for it.

I'm starting to believe that the world wants us to be "different" then the norm, but only the type of "different" that exists within the norm.  And if we want to be more than permissibly different, the world tells us that it can't be done because it hasn't been done that way before.  What it comes down to is that I think we have lost track of what it truly means to be a pioneer.  The people who created the acceptable form of today's "different" were making it up as they went, probably to the tune of many nay-sayers.  So what is the bigger challenge for today's emerging adults?  Is the true test the one that has you travel a direction that you've never walked before?  Or is it the one that has you find out if you have what it takes to master one path before jumping to another?

Maybe, just maybe, the boldest step to be taken by anyone at a fork in the road is to walk down the path that you can hear calling your name.  And to others, this path may be too safe, too dangerous, too plain, or too complicated; but that's why they get to choose their own paths as well.  The people who we look to for guidance and wisdom got to where they are because they followed the wind down the path that they knew was for them.  So perhaps it's helpful to gauge what our mentors might see; but at the end of the day the best way to truly break the mold society has placed us in, is to face our paths on our own, listen for the wind, and simply start walking.

Look Out Below

It's about that time for the highly anticipated NFL playoffs.  After a long season of impressive comeback stories (Vick, Big Ben), surprising contenders (Chiefs, Bucs), and disappointing pretenders (Vikings, Cowboys, Chargers), we have it narrowed down to the field of 12 (really 11, but we're obligated to include the Seahawks).  Looking at this year's Wildcard Weekend matchups you could really make an argument for any team to win any game.  In fact, with the exception of the Seahawks, Chiefs, and Jets, any of the other 9 teams could win the Super Bowl and I don't think it would be a surprise.

Enough small talk though, here's some key points that I'm thinking about for this year's postseason...

> A River In Egypt...Denial - I have hated the Patriots for so long, that I am actually incapable of envisioning them as the Super Bowl Champs.  Some people just want to see a team lose because they hate them, but I actually believe the Patriots cannot win because I despise them so much.  So off the bat, there is some bias here.  At the same time they DID lose to the Browns, so they are far from invincible.

> The Two Dark Horses - I'm a firm believer that a team with something to prove, or a team that has been insulted is a most dangerous team.  Ironically enough, in this case, it's the two Super Bowl contenders from last year.  Due to the Colts having several players in the infirmary along with the Steelers and Pats hogging headlines, the Colts are a forgotten team this year.  Though I would give the Jets a 10% chance of pulling off a first round upset, it's hard to ignore that the last time the Colts were forgotten about in the playoffs, they won it all.  As for the Saints, I don't know how an 11-win team can fly under the radar, but for whatever reason some people are even picking Seattle to beat them in the 1st game...are you kidding?  Watch out for an angry Saints team.

> One Man Show - I never really believed when one defensive player got a ton of hype on a football team, because basic math says there are too many guys out there for one guy to change the game.  Meet Troy Polamalu.  Over the last two seasons the Steelers are 5-7 without him, and 16-4 with him.  He literally takes their defense from average at best, to nearly impenetrable.  In the playoffs the best defense usually prevails...it's hard to pick against the Steelers.

> Getting Over The Hump - It's fitting that the Jets, Ravens, Eagles, and Packers are playing on "wildcard weekend" because they are all definitely wildcard choices.  All four of them have made several playoff appearances in the last decade, and they have all faced early exits, as well as making deep runs. That being said, the only time one of them took home a ring was when the Ravens did it in 2001.  Any one of them could get hot for 4 games and make a deep run.

Enough beating around the bush though - if you put a loaded nerf gun to my head and forced me to pick, here's what it would look like (home team in italics):

Week 1
Saints def. Seahawks
Packers def. Eagles
Colts def. Jets
Ravens def. Chiefs

Week 2
Patriots def. Ravens
Steelers def. Colts
Packers def. Falcons
Bears def. Saints

Conference Championships
Steelers def. Patriots
Packers def. Bears

Super Bowl
Packers def. Steelers

While I am being too lazy to offer game-by-game analysis, I will defend my ultimate pick.  The Packers have lost 6 games this season.  Four of those losses were by 3 points, and the other two losses were by 4 points.  They went into Atlanta where the Falcons are supposedly invincible, and only lost by 3.  AND they went into New England and only lost by 4 points, with Matt Flynn at quarterback.

Clay Matthews leads a potent Packers defense.

The common theme here is that the Packers have had a chance to win every game this season, despite a non-existent running attack and an Aaron Rodgers concussion.  It all falls back to the strength of their defense.  Of all the playoff teams, how many could lose their best player and still compete?  The Colts without Manning...done.  Steelers without Troy...done.  Pats without Brady...done.  Falcons without Matt Ryan...done.  Saints without Brees...done.  Eagles without Vick...done.  Ravens without Ray Lewis...done.  Bears without Urlacher...done.  Jets, Seahawks, Chiefs...they're done anyway.  Sure, not everyone will be playing without their best player, but my point is that the Packers have proved the depth of their team throughout the season.  Despite having the worst seed in the conference at #6, the Pack are looking poised to make a deep run, so the rest of the league better look out below.