Win and you're in.

Sure, any day a team can say those words. For the Rays, today they can say for the first time ever in team history, "We're going to the playoffs!"

Though I didn't make it to as many games as I would've liked, I am proud to say I was there opening day and dozen or so other nights I left with the Trop lit up in my rearview mirror.

Here in Tampa Bay, fans and local media were whispering about this season as the BCS was coming to a close. Despite the excitement of Bowl season, more than a few minutes of airtime on local radio was spent on talk of a pennant race.

The guys really looked good and you could tell the team was showing patience in developing the players and grooming them to fit the plan laid out by management. Then the success was followed by ownership assuming the fans and City of St. Petersburg owed them for their making the right moves to create a winner.

Fans and city residents disagreed. Others, including myself, dreaded the thought of unending rain delays and scorching South Florida heat. Fuck the dumbshit.

"It's always a perfect 72 degrees inside Tropicana Field," was one of the old selling points in the Devil Rays marketing geared at enticing people to come to the worst stadium in the majors to watch one of the worst teams in the majors.

But we went when we wanted to take our kids to a game or to see the Red Sox or the Yankees. Jeter was going yard at least once, if not more.

You have to take the kids to see that.

Nevermind the expletives that followed from Dad.

I hate Jeter, for the record. Not as a person because I don't know him, but as a player that always made the D-Rays look like kids in the Sandlot.

Sure I want to see him homer, but not with two on and no outs.

This year I got to harrass Royals fans that showed up wearing Jayhawks gear. My kids entertained everyone sitting behind us with their dance moves at Kool and The Gang.

I got to see MC Hammer talk for an hour and play three or so songs. By the way, he did the fucking song he did for the Addams Family sequel.

I got to see Longoria hit a grand slam.

I got to see the Rays battle and SWEEP the Red Sox here at the Trop.

We set up the grill, turned up the radio, cracked oped some Miller Lime and tailgated on one of the patches of grass with a tree in the parking lot.

We bought cheap seat tickets and snuck down to the good seats.

We sat by Monty Kiffen, Bucs defensive coordinator and high fived one of the Gruden brothers during a Rays homerun.

We had a blast watching the Rays this year.

Last night as I tucked my daughters into bed, my girls wanted a bedtime story. We talked about the time we saw the Seahawks play the Cowboys up at Qwest Field. Chloe said her team was the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and she couldn't wait to see them play here (They spent the night with grandma and grandpa when mommy and daddy headed to Ray Jay.) Kayla said her team was the Rays.

"I love going to the Rays game Daddy," she said with a huge grin.

Me too, baby. Me too.