Sporting Fools

In Philly, sports is like a disorder.

by Brian Howard

It was the Phillies-Blue Jays game at Citizens Bank Park, Sat., May 17, and after several volleying "Let's Go Flyers" chants, it started.

"E-A-G!" went the morons at the baseball game, "L-E-S!"

"Funny," said my brother-in-law, a former St. Joe's southpaw and a dyed-in-the-wool baseball junkie, "how they're chanting for the only team not to make the playoffs in the last year."

Granted, no one in the park was particularly pleased with the hometown nine. Adam Eaton had surrendered a grand slam to Rod "F." Barajas — the much-maligned former Phillies catcher — putting the Fightin' Phils down four runs in the second inning. But, um, scoreboard, Eagles fans. Scoreboard.

Not that I don't like me some Eagles. I abhor idiots who chant for the football team when the baseball game gets ugly.

I'm a homer sports fan. I have been since I was like 5 and remember being pissed that my parents left me at home with a baby-sitter while they went to Philly and watched Steve Carlton throw a shutout. Even though I grew up an hour and a half away in Bethlehem, the pull of Philly sports was irresistible.

It didn't hurt that all the hometown teams were pretty good. The Flyers had won Stanley Cups. The Sixers and Phillies were champs. The Eagles went to the Super Bowl.

Things were maybe a little better then. But that could change. The Sixers and Flyers just ended heartbreaking but unexpected playoff runs. (Don't tell Pat Rapa, but while he was busy putting together this week's Ultimate Summer Fun Issue, I was busy not watching the Flyers drop Game 5.) The Phils have some championship-quality players. And the Eagles, well, if Donovan McNabb could put together a full season, who knows what might happen.

All of which is to say that after years of doing the occasional sports story in the paper and following in a hobbyist's way on our staff blog, The Clog, we're jumping in with both feet. This week we launched a blog devoted to the sporting life. You'll see the usual suspects. But we're letting former intern E. James Beale run the point ... or quarterback the power play... or, well, you get the gist.

The blog's called The Sports Complex because Philly's relationship to sports is complicated. Every success and failure reveals another facet of the city's dissociative identity.

Losing to the Pittsburgh Penguins in the Stanley Cup semifinals last week was like some kind of Freudian nightmare. For the Phils, making the playoffs last year was such an accomplishment they barely showed up for the first round — and it was somehow good enough for everyone. And a study of this town's feelings toward McNabb week to week could be something like a defining document about race relations in America.

It's an arsenal of loaded topics. Which is why we're siccing Beale on 'em. He's a lifelong Philadelphian and '07 Penn poli-sci grad with a love of sport and a head for numbers.

"Maybe I'm wrong," says Beale, "but I think sport and culture reflect on each other, and the stories behind the games are deep and real."

His favorite sports moments include Game 1 of the 1993 National League Championship Series ("I take personal responsibility for winning that game ... but that is a story I'll save for the blog") and Game 1 of the 2001 NBA Finals.

He goes on: "George Lynch playing on a broken foot because he cared, that Birds-Dallas onside-kick pickle-juice game ... God, I could do this for days."

In Philly, sports is like a disorder — a complex ."I think sports are important — not just to me, but intrinsically so," concludes Beale. "I think the camaraderie, joy, even pain that people feel over sport is good, but more than good, interesting."

(bhoward@citypaper.net)

Read The Sports Complex at citypaper.net/sports.