I grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia. I spent most of my life living outside of Philadelphia. When people would ask where I’m from, it was easier to say Philly because nobody knew where Bensalem or Yardley were. My elementary school would take field trips into the city to the Franklin Institute which had a giant walk-through heart or we’d go to the Italian Market or the Liberty Bell. In middle school we’d go into the city to see a play and once, we went to watch a taping of Double Dare – a few of my friends and classmates were contestants. I would also spend some weekends in South Philly – my dad moved there when I was in third grade. By the time I was in High School, Philly took on a more forbidden and counter culture vibe. My friends and I would drive in and go to South Street. We’d visit the punk rock stores and the record store and have cheesesteaks at Jim’s.
I grew up following Philly sports (more or less). For a few years in the early 80s, my family had a small season ticket package for the baseball team, the Phillies. I saw my first adult fight at a Phillies game. Two guys really got into it. One guy was bleeding from his face. One guy threatened to drop the other guy over the railing. The police had to get involved. I can also remember being on the field of Veteran’s Stadium to meet the players during autograph night. I remember going to World Series games. We didn’t go to many other sporting events – some basketball games and maybe one football game – never hockey. Philly is very much a sports town, and like our geography, we lived on the outskirts of fandom.
By the time I was in high school, I began what I can only describe as a love/hate relationship with Philadelphia sports (the teams and the fans). As some of my friends became more obsessed with following Philly sports, I became less interested. Some of my friends would listen to sports talk radio where every aspect of every Philly team was examined and opined on as though it were a life or death event. The opinions were loud, brash, and full of themselves – which I suppose is most talk radio, but seemed emblematic of Philadelphia talk radio. Quite often the commentators took the sibling approach – it was fine for them to talk shit about their teams, but if anyone else did… look out.
At that time, the Phillies once again found their way to the world series. They had a rag-tag group of guys who mostly seemed like degenerates. I had friends who adored this team, some going so far as to say they were the best to play the game (which were absurd statements). The Eagles in the late 80s and early 90s had a series of years during which some of their players played rough and dirty (perhaps reminiscent of the Flyers during the Broad Street Bullies days). The Eagles fans at that time developed the reputation as being among the rowdiest in pro sports. In a 1989 game with the Cowboys, it was rumored that the Philadelphia coach put bounties on two Cowboys players. The following year when the Cowboys visited Philly, the fans pelted them with snowballs and beer bottles (see bounty bowl I and II). This was reminiscent of a different game (much earlier in their history, 1968), when the fans also pelted Santa Claus with snowballs. The behavior got so bad that the city installed a courtroom and jail in the stadium to deal with belligerent and drunken fans.
I found most of this distasteful and embarrassing. For most of my life, I’ve admired humble success: people who do well and don’t crow about it or when they fail take ownership. Philly fans are not known for being good winners or losers. They taunt and mock and belittle – regardless of the outcome. And while I was never a die-hard sports fan, I was enough of one that these things bothered me or mattered in some way. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve softened my stance on so many things – including sports and fandom. I barely follow sports anymore, and when I do, I seem to have a better appreciation for how people identify with their cities and their teams.
As for Philly, I didn’t really identify with the city until a few years ago. In fact, during much of my adult life, I stayed out of the city. It was a pain in the ass to drive into and park and it was crowded and noisy and dirty and and and. When I first started dating again after getting divorced, I avoided women who lived in the city – I didn’t want to deal with all of that. Then, I met someone who live in the Brewerytown neighborhood and I started to fall in love with the small bars and restaurants and walkability of the area. Traffic still sucked, but I found I really liked being in the city once I got there. A few years later, I met a different woman who lived in the Fairmount section (not far from Brewerytown). Again, I loved being in the city. I would spend weeknights at here place and everything was within reach. I loved going for runs along the river or walking to our favorite Mexican restaurant or our favorite pub. When we moved in together, I was torn about choosing the suburb house over the city house – I felt like I was just getting acclimated to being in the city. Maybe she was too.
All of that said, Philly has a tough exterior to it. Generally speaking, people don’t make eye contact or smile at you. Until you’re a regular, you’ll probably get sideways glances at the corner bar. It also has this get out of my way I’m in a hurry hustle to it that extends throughout much of the northeast corridor (DC-Philly-New York-Boston). The winters are gray and sometimes slushy. The cars might run you over. In recent years, I think the city has begun to embrace the chip on its shoulder. The mascot for the hockey team is named Gritty. In a well-known speech after the Eagles won their last super bowl, one player co-opted an old soccer chant and said “We’re from Philly. Fuckin’ Philly. No one likes us and we don’t care.” Which sums up the brash insecurity that is part of the Philly attitude.
I remember asking the woman who lived in the Fairmount section how she liked the city. She said it was rough. She recounted a story in which she almost got hit by a car. She didn’t think it was a very friendly city (ironically, it’s called the city of brotherly love). It’s not for everybody, though I think if you keep your expectations low, Philly can be an amazingly surprising city. You sorta have to look through the hardness to find the soft spots. For most of my life, it wasn’t for me either. In learning to love Philly, or at least appreciate it, I feel like it’s allowed me to be open to almost any city and any circumstance. In some respects, learning to imperfectly love an imperfect city feels like it’s been a good life lesson that extends well-beyond physical geography. In some respects, learning to embrace some of the things I had liked least about the city might have been a way to also embrace the things I’ve like least about other people and myself. I think we all have a little Philly inside of us (insecure, tough, scrappy, obnoxious, and sometimes dumb). In the guy that climbs the greased pole of the streetlight or traffic signal, we glimpse our own celebratory selves. For a few days, we can greet and thank and acknowledge each other with two otherwise inconsequential words that seem to bring an entire city together. Go Birds.