Friday, January 25, 2013

The Philly Wing Bowl: "Like a Who concert, only less orderly."

 
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=caple/050205

excerpts:

Welcome to the Wing Bowl, an annual tradition that captures the worst of Philadelphia's sports reputation. If you think the Super Bowl is too understated, if pro wrestling is too high-brow, if Detroit's Devil's Night is too tame, this is the competition for you. Basically, the Wing Bowl is an excuse for Philly fans to drink excessively, crowd into the Wachovia Center, ogle large-breasted women and heckle and throw crap at contestants.
In other words, it's like the Flyers are playing again


I had it easy getting into the Wing Bowl compared to the contestants, each of whom had to qualify through some extraordinary display of eating prowess. If you have wireless capability, you might want to move your laptop closer to the bathroom before reading these feats:
  * Rich the Butcher ate a pound of raw meat in one minute.
  * Hank the Tank ate five pounds of meatballs
  * Wing Kong ate 2½ pounds of liverwurst in seven minutes.
      (See? I warned you. And it's about to get worse.)
  * Wolfman ate two pounds of shrimp with 160 mealworms.
  * Obi Wing ate 60 live cockroaches.


The first two hours of Wing Bowl are devoted to the procession of contestants, in which the eaters and their entourages enter the floor and slowly circle the arena while fans hurl cups of beverages and assorted other garbage at them. It's like what you would get if you mixed the Olympics opening ceremonies with Mardi Gras and spring break and crammed it all inside a hockey rink. Except in place of each country's national anthem, throw in video of projectile vomiting from a past contest.


In an attempt to keep the crowd interested during the frequent and long commercial breaks, as well as maintaining the high standards of Wing Bowl, there is also a spectacular halftime act. A guy repeatedly smashes full beer cans against his head until they burst in an explosion of liquid and suds, then finishes his act by crushing one against the buttocks of his female assistant.
I tell you, it's like being at Cirque du Soleil.

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