I understand how national broadcasts work. A bunch of – mostly – outsiders come into the city for a few days to produce a television show. Their audience includes you and me, 30-something’s from LA, rednecks from Roy Oswalt’s street, zealots from Utah, Tyler Perry’s disciples, and, most likely, George W. Bush. It’s a wide swath of humanity.
Considering those folks listed above, producers must appeal to the lowest common denominator, and with that comes the rehashing of many things we already know: Philadelphia has a liberty bell, the sports stadiums are all right next to each other, and we boo. We know this, but it’s not ingrained in the minds of people like Nathan Williams, who’s sitting in his living room in Madison, Wisconsin, having a casual conversation with his wife in an accent that angers us. So, because of folks like N-Will, we put up with these simple tales.
I’m one of the few people in the city who actually likes Joe Buck. – ducks – Most comments I see from you accuse Joe of being a corny Philly hater. He may be corny – I’d call it ironic – but he doesn’t hate Philly. He just has to play both sides. We’ve been lucky enough to have him call many of our games over the last few years (that means we’re good). And because of that, we’ve heard a lot about how good our opponents are, too. However, if you watch a game through the lens of a fan from a visiting city, you’d most likely come away feeling the same way about Buck, who I’m pretty sure has given Chase Utley the on-air equivalent of a hand job many times since this run began in 2007.
The point is, I generally enjoy a national broadcast and don’t hate them simply because they have to uncomfortably straddle both sides of the fence. I also understand that, especially during baseball games, there’s a lot of time to fill. But for the love of John Kruk’s left nut, would ESPN and others please please please stop showing gratuitous shots of heart-attack porn?
We get it. Philadelphia is famous for the cheesesteak. That doesn’t mean we need to see them being made three times a game. Three. Three times during last night’s broadcast, ESPN showed the country multiple shots of cheesesteaks being prepared, cheesesteaks being eaten, John Kruk carrying cheesesteaks, etc. It’s like we play in the real world equivalent of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Every other inning there’s a shot of some fat slob serving a cheesesteak to some fatter slob. I half expect to see Augustus Gloop slurping a river of Cheese Whiz during our next national TV appearance.
There’s other things in this city. Perhaps not a lot, but surely more than cheesesteaks. If they want to go the sandwich route, they should look no further than Dinic’s or Tony Lukes for a another Philly original, the roast pork sandwich. Or how about the Comcast Center? That’s pretty fucking cool. Or the Moshulu? Let’s make the Moshulu famous, it deserves it after the awkward PR the Flyers gave it by throwing faux tea off it’s bow. Hell, I’d take a wide shot of the room where Mark Wahlberg’s child was conceived. Just please stop with the cheesesteak shots… Unless it's footage of Erin Andrews feeding a wiz wit to Hannah Storm. Then it's OK.