Disgust Springs Eternal

The second half of the baseball season gets underway tonight, although the Phillies wait until Bastille Day to get cracking, opening up a West Coast stint tommorow night in San Francisco.

I was down in Philly this past weekend visiting my parents, and I soaked up the prevailing mood of the city concerning the woeful less-than-fightin Phils. Fire Manuel. Trade Abreu. Trade Burrell (hear hear). Bring down Dallas Green to kick some serious ass. Build the team around Rowand, Utley and Howard.

The Brett Myers situation is getting a lot of play on the talk radio airwaves, although the tenor has turned from sheer vilification to more pragmatic concerns – do we trade him, or do we stand pat? “He could be an axe murderer,” one thick Philly-accented yob said on WIP, “but if he starts winnin games, those boos’ll turn to cheers real fast.”

The main thing I noticed was that, disgusted though they were, for the most part the Philly faithful seemed energized. Sportswise (and possibly otherwise), Philly fans have been down for so long, they’re WAY out of their comfort zone when they’re winning. Winning doesn’t make them feel like they’re winning – it makes them feel like searing heartbreak is right around the corner, the kind that comes from getting your hopes up and then having them dashed for the umpteenth go-round.

Right now, the diehard in Philly are deep in their comfort zone – a listless bunch of overpaid doggers to bitch about every day, a soft-spoken, clueless manager to symbolically behead on the radio every day, and a massive rebuilding project on the horizon. Please don’t make us try to win now, we can’t handle the pain, they intone to the stratosphere. In a couple years we'll make it. The infrastructure is there, I’m telling ya, I swear, I like that Aaron Rowand...

Two things I have to point out:

1. A radio spot for that beloved Front Street institution - The Cheerleader’s Gentleman’s Club (they specialize in parties and events). I paraphrase:

“The local teams have been less than entertaining lately, so when you come out of the game all worked up, why not get some real action over at The Cheerleader’s Gentleman’s Club? The wife thinks you're out for the night, right? So treat yourself.”

Oh that ad is more Philly than Philly.

2. Watching the World Cup final in a relatively empty bar on Passyunk, a few blocks away from the Italian market.

“Where,” I asked the bartender, “are all the Philly I-talians to show some love to the Azzuri?”

“Man, it’s already Eagles season from them guys,” he said. “They’re at home studying their depth charts and boning up on all the new rookies.”

Hear hear. Go Iggles.