Boo Who? Philly Fans, after Another Disappointing Year in Sports

It’s a sound that has become — fairly or not — synonymous with the culture of Philadelphia sports.

It’s a longstanding tradition, evolving from the days of yore, reverberating from the ghosts of the Vet past to the Bank of present day. Stories are legendary, growing more extraordinary as the years pass, as folklore often does.

So I wanted to set the record straight after yet another year of disappointment in the Delaware Valley, another year of high expectations falling short. Because, come next season, if there is once again an epidemic of striking out with men in scoring position come April on the diamond, or a string of missed tackles and uninspired play come September on the gridiron, that cacophonous sound will surely rear its ugly head once more.

And most likely it will, once more, hurt the feelings of the poor professional athletes, fragile egos and all, who have been coddled and caressed for so long that they are appalled at even the thought of being criticized en masse.

Boo!

Did I scare you? Because it seems to scare them.

But for those who can’t comprehend why on earth this nastiness would be directed at them — the hometown players, the good guys for gosh sakes! — please allow me to explain:

We boo because there is no tolerance for complacency or underachievers in this hardworking, blue-collar town.

We boo because we’re incredulous that some people find it so difficult to hustle 90 feet to first every time or show up to play a game on time.

We boo because we’re incredulous that your teammates aren’t as incredulous as we are about this.

We boo because it’s not just practice.

We boo because we know the answers to “for who” and “for what.”

We boo because, although simply switching allegiances may be easier, it’s not an option.

We boo because 52 years and counting is far too long to wait.

We boo because two titles in 129 years is not good enough.

(And yes, we realize you weren’t here for most of that. But if you can’t realize that history means something in sports, you were obviously never a true fan yourself.)

We boo because, after 10,000 losses, it’s still easier (and manlier) than crying.

We boo because dream teams shouldn’t be satisfied with a 7-8 record.

We boo because first place teams with two MVPs and a handful of All-Stars shouldn’t be batting a collective .253 on the year.

We boo because politely cheering for “almost” getting it done won’t send the message that “almost” is no longer acceptable.

We boo because minor league hockey, arena football and lacrosse shouldn’t be the actual gold standards in town.

We boo because it's safer than, ahem, throwing snowballs or batteries.

We boo in fear. Fear that past nightmares of longstanding futility may resurface once again.

Admittedly, we boo out of jealousy, too. Most of us can’t even dream big enough to fathom your salaries. And even if we could, we’re too busy busting our asses in our 50-plus hour a week jobs trying to pay the mortgage and put food on the table while the millionaire players and billionaire owners hold our sports – one of our few legitimate opportunities for escapism from reality – hostage.

Yes, we’re worried about making it in life. You’re worried about your feelings getting hurt.

Simply enough, we boo because we care.

And we boo because you deserve it.