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Keep in mind, it was far from easy for me to bring myself to cheer for the Phillies. Leave aside the ridiculously infuriating comments from Jimmy Rollins and Cole Hamels, the terrible conclusions to both the 2007 and 2008 seasons at the hands of the Phillies, and the indisputable evidence that being America's fattest city hasn't made Philadelphia particularly jolly.

I grew up just outside of Philadelphia, so I've had a rivalry with Phillies fans that goes back 20 years, to a time before the recent scrums atop the National League East. I received picture galleries from the Phillies' championship parade courtesy of several groomsmen from my wedding. For the record, none of them was this guy.

But raised properly by a Brooklyn Dodgers fan, I saw almost no chance that I would fall victim to the siren song of the Steve Jeltz Fan Club.

It wasn't easy, however. Leave aside the creative taunts from Philadelphia fans as I'd wear blue and orange to Veterans Stadium, which tended to range from "Mets suck!" to, well, that was about it until they decided to make Mike Piazza's sexuality an issue, creatively yelling things like "Piazza's gay!" and,well, that was about the best they could do.

There were institutional hurdles, as well. In the fall of 1993, Beck Middle School held Phillies Hat Day, a departure from the no-hats rule to celebrate the Phillies' return to the World Series. To celebrate my 1993 Mets' 59-103 season, I wore my Starter pinstriped Mets hat, and was stopped by the principal.

"You're going to have to take that off," he said.

"Everyone else is wearing hats!"

"Phillies hats. Otherwise, no hats in school."

I refused, and spent the duration of the day in the principal's office, which suited me fine. I was a political prisoner in the only air-conditioned room of the school on an unseasonably warm October day.

To my knowledge, I have never been the victim of anti-Semitism. I have, however, been persecuted for rooting for the Mets. This explains, I believe, why I am at Citi Field more than synagogue.

But times and regions I live in have changed. I now find myself a stone's throw from the city, though it obviously takes longer by car. And I am surrounded by Mets fans, and unsurprisingly, a steadily increasing supply of Yankees fans.

Now, most of these fans will flunk what I call The Eric Plunk Test, which involves me asking a suspected bandwagon New York Yankees fan, "Tell me your favorite Eric Plunk, Greg Cadaret or Alvaro Espinosa story." When I receive a blank look, my suspicions are confirmed.

But Mets fans stand just one victory away from a winter of hearing about Yankee tradition, rightful placement, and unending lording over Mets fans that The Bronx is Where Championships Belong.

This is happening at both the institutional and grass roots level.

This week, the Yankees have a Yankees Classics on Tuesday night. Is it Don Larsen's perfect game? Reggie Jackson's 1977 World Series performance? The clincher over the Braves in the 1996 World Series?

No. They are showing Luis Castillo's dropped pop up in June. Think they are sending a message to the Mets with this one?

That the Yankees are so small-minded, even on the eve of World Series glory, should tell you all you need to know about a unified New York.

This is further illustrated by the Halloween Parade Incident, as it will forever be known in my household. My pregnant wife, a devoted Mets fan, dressed as a Met for a Halloween parade at the school where she teaches. Make no mistake, she is a beloved teacher by students and teachers alike.

Well, she was booed. Loudly booed. Booed by students. Booed by parents. The pregnant lady teaching their kids was booed. If any of you who booed her is reading this, drop me a line with your home address. I'd like a word, please.

So those people who are rooting for the Yankees as part of a unified New York are kidding themselves. This is a diverse city. It's the reason we love it, a reason we live here.

But that means the good and the bad exist in New York. Gotham has artists, entrepreneurs, great feats of architecture. We love them.

But does this mean we root for murderers, because gosh darn it, they are New York murderers? Would Eliot Spitzer have been forgiven by the state if he'd simply frequented New York hookers?

Now I'm just one Yankee win away from having to push through a nauseating amount of "2009 World Series champion New York Yankees" paraphernalia simply to find my soon-to-be-born daughter the proper Mets onesie. (Note: it obviously won't be the Spring Training orange.) And when I do re-engage with Phillies fans, as I did yesterday at the Giants-Eagles game, the fact that the Yankees won the World Series won't change the fact that the Phillies, too, have bragging rights over the Mets. Those 2008 World Series T-shirts that littered Lincoln Financial Field's Phans trump my increasingly faded 2006 National League East Championship T-shirt.

Anyone who believes you keep your friends close and your enemies closer hasn't spent much time with a Yankees fan. There are plenty of good reasons to hope the Phillies come back in this World Series. Most of them are your friends and neighbors.