Part I: Why We Eat
If you're from Philly, you can probably skip Part I, as you already inherently know the ideas, if not the specifics:
Some background for anyone not from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, U.S.A:
There is an AM radio station, 610 WIP, which broadcasts, approximately, a signal that reaches about 100 miles from downtown, Center City Philadelphia. This is a Sports Talk format station, and can be heard, here on the Internet.
Fifteen years ago, amidst a dearth of championships (last one was in 1983, the 76ers) for Philadelphia's beloved sports franchises -- the Phillies (baseball) the Flyers (hockey) the 76ers (basketball) and, most importantly (at least to myself and many others) the Eagles (American Football), one host named Angelo Cataldi, of the 5 a.m. to 10 a.m. time slot, came upon an idea:
If we, the collective sports consciousness of Philadelphia (read: 610 WIP listeners) cannot enjoy a (American Football Championship) Super Bowl of our own, we shall invent another:
Wing Bowl
A food eating championship.
The food: Buffalo Wings
The competitors: all local Joes, Bobs, Jims, whomever wanted to show up.
Now, Philly is a greasy, deep-fried food-eating town. If you don't like greasy cheese fries, or Pat's or Geno's cheese steaks, or Mario's pizza, or a simple Wawa turkey hoagie with hot peppers and mayonnaise, well, frankly, you just don't belong here. You should move to either Eugene, Vancouver, Seattle, Manhattan or Los Angeles, or some other such place where you and your hippie friends can gather, worship the cabbage head, eat spring-mix and arugula salads, eat tofu, disdain omnivores, and generally ignore and be happy without us.
Wing Bowl became a tradition.
Wing Bowl has become part of us.
Wing Bowl represents our continued frustration:
Still no freaking championship.
We've come close, we've even gotten to the big dance(s) a few times, but they always break our hearts.
Every time.
Not to belittle the following, achievements, but, we haven't had a champion:
Since 1983. And that was the 76ers.
Since 1980. And that was the Phillies. One World Series in what? 125 years?
Since 1975. And that was the Flyers, an expansion hockey team. Two Stanley Cups, but...
Since 1960, not even a Super Bowl, that wasn't around yet, just an NFC Championship, when The Eagles beat Vince Lombardi's Green Bay Packers.
And what, with our murder rate being what it is, at least one generation has come and passed.
A tangent:
I can't count our lacrosse team, the Wings, because (a) virtually no one watches it and (b) those who do all go to Penn, and (c) those fans do not really represent us, they are the pseudointellectuals and preppies and (d) if they come from this region at all, they come from Gladwyne or Merion or some such place in the northwestern 'burbs where everyone is either too drunk or pilled up or can afford psychotherapy or simply too wealthy to feel any real pain anyway.
Not to make any grand, sweeping statements, but, if they are not that type, they are the kind that blindly follows whatever they're profs say, resulting in on-campus protests at the bookstore against "globalization" in the name of "sweat shop workers," concepts which, in reality, they have neither experienced nor can properly understand. C'mon. The bookstore sells sweatshirts, people, sweatshirts are made in Malaysia. Get over it. Get used to it, it ain't gonna change.
Anyway, they don't give a crap about football, largely demeaning it as "mindless fodder for the masses," when in reality, football is an extension of our civic pride: i.e. the Denver Broncos, Baltimore Ravens, New England Patriots, et cetera, and thus extraordinarily important to a city, most especially vis-a-vis civic disaster, i.e. the New Orleans Saints.
My apologies to the 0.01% of Penn alumni that do not fit either of these molds, especially those I know personally and most especially Governer Rendell, who not only did a bang up job as mayor and now does one as governor, but also finds time to co-host the Eagles post-game report on Comcast Sports Net.
My apologies, Penn, even though my favorite Founding Father, Ben Franklin, may have also founded you, as a lowly Temple University graduate, I must point out that at least our professors aren't pedophiles or murderers, or, if they are, they're not dumb enough to get caught. Go figure. I do like that Museum of Archeology, even if the entire collection was stolen from its rightful, indigenous owners in the name of academia. Anyway, I digress....
End of tangent.
Back to Wing Bowl: thank God I was 3 when the Flyers last won it all, 8 when the Phillies won and 11 when the 76ers won. At least I have some memory, however vague, of happier times.
But those players who really count in our hearts, who represent every broken nose in every bar-room brawl, who can unify black and white, yellow, brown, orange, pink; who came so very close in 1980, 2002 and 2004, who transcend all boundaries and have us scream, pound couches, punch holes through drywall, scream, groan and moan at the tops of our lungs, sounds I have personally heard both in my own home and as an outsider on the street; those who undoubtedly mean the most to us:
The Philadelphia Eagles.
Wing Bowl is our replacement, our substitute, our methadone, our Nicoderm CQ. We anoint another hero each year, one that, while admittedly less than athletic, can do one thing:
In 30 minutes, can eat the most wings.
Thusly:
Wing Bowl
Part II: My Afternoon With Meats
So on 610, my personal favorite of shows is the one that runs on Saturdays 11 a.m. - 3 p.m. EST during football season, hosted by Glen Macnow and Ray Didinger. Glen is o.k., but the real reason I listen in Ray. The man is a football genius. Literally every time I listen I learn something new about the game. I strongly recommend to any football fan out there in cyberspace to tune in then, I don't care if you are a fan the Berlin Fire or the Calgary Stampede, just listen and learn.
So, Saturday December 16, 2006, I am in the process of moving from one apartment to another, and of course I am listening. The entire time, Glen is saying, "If anyone wants to participate in our Buffalo Chicken Cheese Steak competition at the Slack's Hoagie Shack on Baltimore Pike in Springfield, Saturday December 30th, please call." He must have said it ten times in the time I was listening.
Now, the thought of entering Wing Bowl had crossed my mind before, as my friend Lem, a.k.a. Meats, can attest. Prior to this, we had actually been talking about both of us trying to get in at some point. I don't know his motivation, but I know mine: grand prize for local area winner of Wing Bowl this year is a new car, and my Toyota has 157,000 miles on it, and my mechanic tells me I'll be lucky to get another 5K out of it. Beat local eaters and the professional eaters and you win two cars. Sweet. So I decide, what the heck, I'll throw my name out there and see what happens. The following is an approximation of the transcript of my call:
Glen: Matt, you're on the air, you want to enter Wing Bowl? What are your qualifications?
Me: Number one, I'm youngest of 11, and growing up, in order to bet seconds, you had to eat really fast.
Glen: That's it?!?
Me: No, second reason is, I used to work at McNally's Tavern and my personal best for Schmitters eaten was 8 in 5 hours.
Glen: Ray, I'll let you decide.
Ray: He's in.
Glen: [Incredulous] What?
Ray: I've had the Schmitter, and I could hardly eat one.
Glen: [Sighs] That's it? That's all you're going to ask him? All right, well, Ray says you're in, so you're in. Talk to the producer.
Thanks Ray!
Now my next call was a voice mail to Lem: "Meats! Call me! I'm going to Wing Bowl!!!!"
Naturally, Meats was very excited by this turn of events. I even tried to claim at one point that he was actually more excited than me, but Kurt at the 700 Club, from under the sink at the bar, set me straight one night: "No dude, you are waaaaaay more into it." Fine, probably true.
Anyway, the next two weeks were mostly preparation. And it made for great conversation, i.e., I'm at McMenimen's in Mount Airy one night, and I tell P.J., the owner, about my antics, and he offered me sponsorship deal. I won't go into specifics as I am unsure as to the legality of it, but still, nice offer. P.J., no website? C'mon man, it's 2007! At least I got something off Google.
Understand, Wing Bowl is a larger-than-life event. You need a theme and a float. You need a nom de poulet. I chose, at first, Marty Bones, and homage to Kentucky Derby and Preakness winner Smarty Jones, who, at a time when I was fairly broke and only pulling in $100 a week from Mace's Crossing, (Bernie, see comments directed to P.J. above) won me a lot of money on a $20 bet, as he was a 50:1 shot in the Derby and 5:1 at the Preakness. Plus, Philadelphia Park, Smarty Jones’ home track, is a sponsor of Wing Bowl XV. Synchronicity. So, take my initials and stick them up front.
However, the Committee for Understandable Naming and Title Simplification (a.k.a. Bill, Hy-Sung (hope I spelled her name correctly) and Mike at the 700 Club one Wednesday night) set me straight:
"Dude, we don't get Marty Bones, no one does, but we get Smarty Bones, it makes sense." I argued my side for a bit, but, in the end, I realized they were right.
There were other plans bandied about as well, including one with tear-away clothing, ala Hulk Hogan or Mr T., and another where I was to wear blinders, but, in the end, I decided the simplest route: just wear what I normally wear and eat like a mofo.
This whole idea was so absurd to begin with, and I was mid-root canal anyway, that at one point, I doubted myself and abilities so much that I was going to email the producer and tell him I was pulling out due to root canal. But then, the Thursday before the event, they sent me and one other contestant an email that said, essentially, "You guys are the only two signed up as of yet, be there no later than 11:30 Saturday morning."
So, one other guy? I'm in it to win it.
Meats and I arrive at the contest at 11 a.m. I'd give a full report, but the reporter from the Delco Times did a pretty good job here.
Suffice to say, I ate 2.75 cheese steaks in 10 minutes, as did Chuck Roast, but the other two did 3.5 in the first round. There was another 5 minute round after that, and Frank DeFraud, whom I am now personally pulling for to take Wing Bowl, totaled 5 entire steaks in 15 minutes, and looked as though he could have eaten 5 more.
Plus he was taunting Hungry Jack (a sentiment I can get behind 'cause Hungry Jack said things like, "I'd have won it if he hadn't walked in,") for the last 3 minutes of the 5 minute speed round, winking at him and giving him the "bring it on" hand gesture, which was about the funniest thing I had seen in forever. So, Go Frankie!
And no, I didn't get sick at all, in fact, it was the only meal I ate all day.
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