A trophy won't fix all the Union's problems, but you can still enjoy it

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Wednesday night marks the biggest match in the relatively short history of the Philadelphia Union (well, since last year at this time).

Hopes are high as the Union host Sporting Kansas City in the U.S. Open Cup final at PPL Park (7 p.m. -- ESPN2), hoping to avenge last year's loss to Seattle in the same game.

Despite all that comes with a win Wednesday night, there are a few Union fans out there worried about "What happens if we win?"

The crazy thing is, that argument is not completely off the rails. An argument could easily be made that a win tonight would do more harm than good to the team's long-term future. Why? Because it would vindicate the perceived cheapskate tactics of CEO Nick Sakiewicz, majority owner Jay Sugarman and the rest of the penny-pinching ownership group.

I can totally see their point. I just don't agree with it.

First, don't get me wrong, a win tonight does not solve all the Union's problems. In fact, it may only serve to magnify the team's problems (we'll get to that).

But this is not an expansion team anymore. After six years of mediocrity at best (and embarrassment at worst), we've long since graduated from the happy-go-lucky, let's-smile-there's-soccer-to-watch crowd. 

To put it another way: We're not stupid.

The glaring faults in player acquisition, player development and roster management are abundantly clear in the team's dismal MLS record this season (although, in promising news, a report surfaced Tuesday saying the Union are ready to hire their first Sporting Director). We can see it. We've experienced it. And we've seen Sakiewicz's astonishment that we weren't falling for it.

Earlier in the week, this tweet caught my eye:

https://twitter.com/RichardMcGovern/status/648633740512460801

The answer is: Of course.

That's not because we're too stupid to celebrate an enormous win, but because we're too smart to forget the past because of a shiny new trophy. It's the same reason nearly everyone (except the front office) was able to see the Sons of Ben protest earlier this season for what it was: anger toward team management, not displeasure with the effort of the team's players and coaches.

And that brings us back to the real reason fans can confidently pour their heart and soul into cheering the team on Wednesday night.

This is for the players. Sure, Sakiewicz and Co. will take some credit (and I guess they deserve a token amount), but it's the players who are busting their ass for this at the end of a long, frustrating and draining season.

Are they the best players money can buy? Probably not.

Are they a good enough collection of players to compete in a league where high-priced talent is coming in droves? Of course not.

But they are the players on the field tonight, and the players who are one win away from bringing the team a trophy in just its sixth season -- an accomplishment that took the New York Metrostars/Red Bulls more than 20 years to achieve.

Players like Maurice Edu -- who does all the things no one notices and never asks for accolades. Edu spent some time Tuesday afternoon motivating himself with some painful memories on Instagram: A shot of the Seattle Sounders celebrating last season on his team's field. ... A photo of his silver medal from last year's Open Cup.

Edu and his teammates have earned their spot in the final, and have earned the right to play in front of raucous fans who are totally behind them, even if they are angry at the suits upstairs. 

One win won't fix the Philadelphia Union, and it won't buy the front office a year or two of nodding acceptance from the fans. I would argue it will only put MORE pressure on the front office from fans who have tasted success. Not to mention the club will be unable to deny the tangible benefits of a title, and excuses will be fewer and farther between.

This is about one group of players, and one group of fans. Players who have struggled without the full support of the front office, and fans who have spent the better part of six years embarrassed to root for a league-wide laughingstock. 

For 90 minutes (or, may god help my nerves, 120 minutes or more), one trophy is all that matters. 

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