Breast & worst of Philly: Wing Bowl is over
To paraphrase Dickens, “It was the breast of times, it was the wurst of times.” Charles was talking about revolutionary France. I’m referring to that only slightly less debauched and messy epoch known as “Wing Bowl.” Alas, like the French monarchy, it has now become a remnant of the past, leaving but the sweet taste of bratwurst in our mouths, the scent of sweaty, beer-drenched Teamsters in our noses and the fading images of young women with overactive thryroids to remind us of that better time, when we were young and hopeful.
Wing Bowl sprang from the despair of that unique, endangered animal (emphasis on animal,) the Eagles fan. Until last year, no Philadelphian had ever witnessed our team hoist the Lombardi Trophy. It seemed to many of us as if we would die before being able to sing “We are the champions of the world.” I mean, we could sing it, but then they would haul us off to Byberry. Except it was taking so long for the team to win anything that Byberry had actually closed in the interim, so they’d need to find another insane asylum.
But I digress. The reason that Angelo Cataldi, Al Morganti and the morning gang at Sports Radio WIP founded Wing Bowl was to distract Eagles fans from the inevitable letdown, each year, as we were bridesmaids at the main party, the Super Bowl. It was essentially a competitive eating contest, and took place on the Friday before the big game each year, for two and a half decades. Over that period, it morphed into something that was a strange hybrid, the offspring of Larry Flynt and Julia Child. There was food, and there was booze, and there were scantily clad minors ... I mean, women. And there were mostly men, although a few women (besides the ones who came in their underwear) also enjoyed the program.
Alas, and in case you didn’t already know, we actually won the Lombardi Trophy this year. We are the champions of the world. And so the founding fathers of Wing Bowl, primarily for that reason but I’m thinking for several others, decided to close up shop.
After what I wrote in an obviously snarky manner above, you probably think I’m happy that they’ve decided to end the tradition. In this #Metoo era where we are taught to view women with respect and through at least one layer of clothing, you must assume that I would rejoice at the death knell for this blue collar bacchanal with men, more men, even more men and some poultry.
And you would be very wrong. I actually mourn the passing of Wing Bowl, not because I think that it was culturally unique (any bachelor party could serve up the same ambiance,) or because it was memorable (with that much beer the only thing you remember is the design on the floor beneath your cheek,) or because it was something families could share. No, the reason I’m sad that Wing Bowl is gone is because of the type of person who’s happy it’s gone.
Those people annoy me. I can’t stand the women who scream about how our sisters, all of whom competed feverishly to be “Wingettes,” were being disrespected and objectified. I mean, no one forced them to beg Angelo Cataldi to choose them for the “festivities,” and it is infantilizing and disrespectful to pretend that they didn’t have complete agency over their own choices. I also can’t stand the people who tell me that as a pro-life, Catholic, traditional woman, I have to look down on a celebration that involves alcohol, chicken and spandex. Believe me, in some parts of the world, that amounts to the makings of a spiritual celebration (minus the poultry.)
Most of all, I hate this idea that we need to purge society of all that is seedy and raunchy, because some people are hypersensitive to offensive images, noises, thoughts and body odors. It is hypocritical to criticize Cataldi and the raucous crew at Wing Bowl who provided us with questionable but nonetheless popular entertainment, and yet praise a woman like Stormy Daniels who continues to strip and strut for money, or laugh at all the off color jokes on SNL, or applaud the lewd comments on Twitter and other social media.
I actually attended Wing Bowl a few years ago. It was just another Philadelphia Story, to be enjoyed.
And I’m sad it’s over.