Wing Bowl 16: All Gristle, Not Too Gory
Once again Broad and Pattison became sloshing ground for the city’s annual chicken wing eating/$5 strip show at the Wachovia Center. Just a little after 5 a.m., the first tailgaters maneuvered their way through the dark to the nearest fence corner to unleash a healthy three-beer urine strain.
The show? Timid this year. There were no horrifying evacuations (there was one competitor who was disqualified after “snotting” a piece of chicken out his nose), and although crowd was praying for a triumphant Bill “El Wingador” Simmons upset, reigning champion Joey Chestnut’s professional jaws were just too formidable. Simmons placed third, behind another professional eater, the sinewy, mohawked, Patrick Bertoletti.
Backstage prior to the event, Simmons’s entourage seemed entirely focused. One of Wingador’s henchmen eyeballed Chestnut as he strode past and barked, “That’s the only fucking guy I’m worried about.”
All bark, no bite, unfortunately. Even though Simmons devoured a personal best 205 wings, he just couldn’t measure up to Chestnut, who seemed to enjoy the chorus of boos each time his face was shown on the JumboTron. After Chestnut destroyed the field in the first heat by eating 124 wings, he mouthed “That’s fucking right … that’s fucking right” to the jeering crowd. Today, Joey Chestnut was the enemy. He might as well have been wearing a Troy Aikman jersey.
As for Simmons, he officially announced his retirement, telling the Mighty Dan Gross that the only eating he plans on doing from now on is with his family.
Notable faces? MMR’s Matt Cord wearing his usual sunglasses and pegged jeans, sipping beer and hob-nobbing with the media maul. There was also an early sighting of John Bolaris decked out in black and carrying a too-snazzy-to-be-manly handbag and a microphone. Then there was Philadelphia’s most famous bon vivant, Harry Jay Katz, who was also milling around backstage, trying to organize a post-Wing Bowl strip club trip. There were no takers at 7 a.m.
Security-wise, things didn’t seem too out of hand. Wachovia’s maroon-shirted event staff was in prevent defense, explaining that as long as there were no fists or gunfire, they wouldn’t be out to ruin a good time. There was only one potentially ugly fight in the VIP section near section 119/120, where a group of North Face-jacketed drunk guys tried to storm through the doors and ended up in a shoving match with security.
A red-eyed fan stumbling out of the exit a little after 9:30 summed it up best: “I don’t know why we keep doing this.” He then promptly poured the rest of his beer into a plastic cup and hopped on the Broad Street Line. “Gotta go to work, man. Gotta go to work.”
Of course he did.
Joey Chestnut Wins Again [Philly.com]
Mighty Dan Wing Bowl [MDG]