Philadelphia sports fans are the best in the world. Philadelphia sports fans are the absolute worst.
Philly is the best place in the world for a pro athlete. Professional athletes would rather play in the ninth circle of Hell than Philadelphia.
So, what's true and what isn't? I figured this would be a good time to consider the phenomenon of the Philly sports fan — Sunday, of course, represented the ultimate prize for the Philly fan: a Super Bowl win — and secondly, I just finished watching a documentary about Mike Schmidt, the absolute best athlete through which to assess that distinctive species known as the Philly sports fan.
Schmidt is arguably the best third baseman in Major League history. But Schmitty, as he was known to fans, and Michael Jack Schmidt, as he was known to the late Harry Kalas, the Phillies' beloved announcer, was never a fan favorite. He was considered too cool, too unemotional, too uninvolved. He has a counterpart on this superb Eagles team in quarterback Jalen Hurts. We want Jalen to pound the ground and gesture at the defense and get mad at wide receiver AJ Brown when AJ throws shade his way, but it's just not Hurts' way. He was restrained even after being named Super Bowl MVP.
No matter what, Hurts and Schmidt, the latter a first-ballot hall of famer, will never be first in the hearts of Philly sports fans.
In baseball, those fans more prefer the Larry Bowa types, the scrappy little guys, or, in that rare exception of a super star being beloved, Bryce Harper, because of his fiery disposition, his willingness to talk smack, to run over the opposition figuratively and literally. In football, it's clearly a guy like Jason Kelce, who wears his heart on his sleeve and a Mummers suit on his oversized body. I'm trying to imagine Schmitty or Jalen Hurts donning a Mummers costume — it does not compute.
So, is the Philly sports fan unreasonable? For long swatches of his career, Schmidt certainly thought so. In his book he wrote, he said, "They look for the negative. I don't know whether there's something about their upbringing that they have too many hoagies or too much cream cheese." That is certainly an insult, hitting at the Philly sports fan being driven by a kind-of mental feebleness.
On the other hand, Schmidt has heard some horrible things himself. I don't care how much money you make, having someone holler "you suck" and much worse is difficult. And fans make what I consider an invalid assumption: "Hey, I paid to get in, that entitles me to say anything I want." No it doesn't. The fact that you paid admission does not entitle you to lose both common sense and your humanity. Yes, it entitles you to call out failure, lack of hustle, and sure, even boo. But there are limits.
In the documentary, Schmidt eventually comes around to admit that maybe, from time to time, he could've given more of himself and done a better job of understanding how much the fan cares. And over a career in sports journalism, I can tell you that athletes appreciate an engaged fanbase. Some athletes who have left Philly are certainly glad to have it in their rearview mirror, but many more miss the interaction, the passion, the idea that what they did mattered on a nightly basis.
And fans, keep in mind that Saquon Barkley, a local product, has given us a template for how athletes should act: with grace, kindness, patience, and a ferocious output on the field. Not every athlete can do that. What Barkley has pulled off this year — the neat trick of being a two-sided MVP (Most Valuable Player and Most Valuable Person) — doesn't come along that often. Mike Schmidt couldn't do it, Jalen Hurts can't do it. So don't expect it from everyone because it's a rare thing.
