So, I was sitting in this bar in Boston, way back when. At that time the Sixers and Dr. J were rivals with the Celtics and Larry Bird. Forget all that Bird vs Magic stuff, this East Coast rivalry was just as big, and Boston, like Philly is not a town that tolerates its rivals. I was in mortal danger the minute I opened my mouth and claimed to be a Sixers fan.
A little in my cups, I started to explain to those three big Irishmen what it was like to be a Philadelphia fan. “You see,” I said, “the season starts off and they do so-so. And then they get it together and get your hopes up. Then they stall, dramatically, and you get so pissed that you actually start to root against them. But, somehow, they pull it out and get to the playoffs and you’re up again. Then they get creamed early and you really hate them.”
These guys thought they were real sports fans. But they had never even come close to understanding the complexity and nuance that attends the roller coaster of Philly sports fandom. Their hostility turned to amazement, and, whether out of pity or admiration, I drank for free the rest of the evening.
The Phillies are a great example. My poor old man endured them for years, season after losing season, decade after decade. Perhaps their greatest meltdown, one which followed my above-mentioned pattern, was in 1964. Cruising to a sure spot in the World Series following a not-so-impressive start, with just a few games left in the season, they finished September losing 10 in a row. Manager Gene Mauch is quoted as having said, “It was like watching someone drown.” No shit, Gene! I remember sitting in a barbershop listening to one of those afternoon losses on the radio. It was torture. Shift to the 2022 and 2023 seasons. Fantastic second halves and great starts in the finals, only to cave in the end. Oi!
And then there was Donovan McNabb, puking in the huddle in the 2005 Superbowl. My sister and I watched that game amongst a decidedly pro-Patriots crowd in the Mole’s Eye in Brattleboro, Vermont. They had it made and then collapsed at the very end. We left with our tails between our legs.
Yes, the Sixers finally won one. Years ago. And my old man lived to see the Phillies as world champs just months before he died in ’81. Little solace for an entire lifetime of frustrations. Yes, by dumb luck, with a back-up quarterback and a trick play, the Eagles finally won their big one, too. And I can’t forget about the Bobby Clarke Flyers, either. They had quite a string. But, what have you done for me lately, Philly teams. Those anomalies simply prove my point. They get you high and then they drop you like a hot potato.
Last February my wife and I went to the Florida Keys. I had this dream of watching the Superbowl in a Tiki Hut and cheering on the Eagles to victory. Maybe this was the year that the pattern would be broken. We made a lot of noise in the first half, but the crowd, like most Americans, probably resented anything to do with Philadelphia fans, and we could feel the sense of schadenfreude follow us as we skulked away at the bitter end. Come on! It was years ago that we booed Santa Claus!
Now the Eagles are 10 and 4. That’s an amazing record, but, following the typical pattern, they started strong and have lately collapsed. This isn’t my first rodeo; I know what’s going to happen. They’ll manage to win out, become the East Division champs and then, my hopes, and the hopes of every other Philly fan now emerging from the depths of despair are going to be dashed on the rocks of dismal defeat.
That’s why people all over the country admit that Philadelphia sports fans are the most knowledgeable. It’s not a choice, it’s self-defense. Because being a Philly fan is not a casual thing, it’s a life-long, existential threat.
©2023 David B Bucher
Author’s update 1/15/24: As outlined above, my thoughts that the Eagles would give me one more shot of hope before the end of the season were dashed by their complete collapse. Yet, they still made the playoffs. More hope. More despair. Eliminated in the first round!
SoEast 