Sean Gordon had been a fan for years. Decades, actually. The New Jersey native had attended a dozen Wing Bowls in the past, but this year he wanted to be part of the event. He won a “wing-off” competition to qualify for the 23rd edition of Philadelphia’s annual wing eating contest. By then, he was no longer Sean Gordon: He was El Clownador, a bearded man with white facepaint in a polka-dotted clown suit wearing a rainbow wig.

“I’m a nobody,” El Clownador said. “If I’m going to go out there and try to get people to know who I am, they’ll say, ‘You’re that clown guy!’ They may not know my name, but they’ll know who I am.”

By the end of the day, people did know El Clownador. In only his second-ever actual eating competition — the wing-off was the first, though he said “had a history in competitive eating” — Clownador advanced to the second round of the competition, where the top 10 eaters from the first round chow down for an additional 12 minutes.

Of all the odd events held in the city of Philadelphia, Wing Bowl might be the oddest. It is essentially a promotion for the morning show of 94 WIP, a sports talk radio station. It began in 1993, when Al Morganti, sidekick of host Angelo Cataldi, decided Eagles fans needed something to do the weekend of the Super Bowl. An eating contest was devised. The contestants ate Buffalo chicken wings, a nod to the city of Buffalo. Wings are generally considered to have been invented at the Anchor Bar there, and the Bills had just lost consecutive Super Bowls.

The Bills would lose the Super Bowl again that year and the next, too. And more than two decades later the Eagles still haven’t won a Super Bowl. Wing Bowl has had much more success. In 1993, contestants competed in a Wyndham hotel in downtown Philadelphia in front of 150 people. Winner Carmen Codero got the grand prize of a hibachi.

On Friday, about 20,000 fans packed a sold-out Wells Fargo Center, an arena that usually hosts the Flyers and Sixers, for the 6am event. (It is a morning radio show promotion, after all.) A pack of media — more reporters than regularly cover the Flyers and Sixers — attended. The winner, Pat Bertoletti, took home $10,000, a Harley Davidson motorcycle and a custom-made championship ring. He earned it by besting defending champ Molly Schuyler, eating 444 wings to Schuyler’s 440. In 26 minutes.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Wing Bowl has envolved from competitive eating contest to Fellini-like spectacle. Photograph: Christian Graham/Special to The Guardian

A car dealership gave away two cars — one to the top local eater and the top one from a Philadelphia college. That was won this year by Stormin’ Norman (a/k/a Daniel Davis, a senior linebacker on the University of Pennsylvania football team from Norman, Oklahoma). He ate 89 wings to win the college division. The soon-to-be Wharton grad also got a job offer this week. “I failed to mention Wing Bowl in my job interview,” he said.

The event has its own legends.

When Pennsylvania Turnpike toll booth operator Joseph Paul won in 2000, the Lansdale plaza put up a huge sign celebrating Tollman Joe’s win. El Clownador was a tribute to Bill “El Wingador” Simmons, a five-time Wing Bowl champ who was later arrested in 2012 for cocaine distribution. “‘El Wingador’ May Be Eating Prison Food For Next 7 Years in N.J.,” KYW 1060, a sister radio station to WIP, headlined its report on the sentencing after conviction. “It was done out of love,” Clownador said. “It wasn’t anything malicious. … what better way to be remembered than to spoof the greatest wing eater of our generation. He’s the one who really helped put this one on the map.”

The event Wingador helped grow got so enormous the event was sanctioned by the International Federation of Competitive Eating in 2004. That year, legendary eater Sonya “The Black Widow” Thomas won the title. Joey “Jaws” Chestnut won three years in a row. Takeru Kobayashi, perhaps the most famous competitive eater in the world, won the 2012 contest.

The event has grown in pageantry, too. Competitors enter on often-elaborate floats and parade around the arena before competing. They have huge entourages and are accompanied by scantily-clad women. The entrances take much longer than the actual event, which consists of two 12-minute rounds and a 2-minute final round. This year, multiple floats attacked New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie — not for his policies or his likely presidential run, but for being a fan of the Dallas Cowboys. One float contained an effigy of Christie, which entourage members then beat to pieces. At the event, WIP released a video of Christie falling off a chair during an appearance on the morning show. Its unveiling received the loudest ovation of the day.

There’s a Wing Bowl Hall of Fame. There’s an after-party at Philadelphia’s casino, SugarHouse, which several former Philadelphia Eagles and Hall of Fame ice hockey goaltender Bernie Parent attended. There’s a theme song, a parody of Ludacris’ “Stand Up” that is quite possibly the worst song ever recorded. There’s even a commissioner. The position, previously held by former major league umpire Eric Gregg and former Sixers president Pat Croce, is now that of Eagles special teams standout Jon Dorenbos. Cataldi called him “the greatest long snapper in Eagles history.” The role of commissioner is a nebulous one. “The real job is to appear busy and not be busy,” Dorenbos said. He’s also a professional magician, and at one point he held up a sheet and made a Christie impersonator disappear.

Wing Bowl competitors talk about the event as if it were a religious experience. “It’s kind of addicting because of how Wing Bowl is such a Philly event,” three-time Champ Jonathan “Super” Squibb said. “Twenty thousand people come at 6 o’clock in the morning to watch guys eat chicken wings. It’s unlike anything else you can ever experience. That many people cheering your name, it’s surreal.” Squibb joined in on the pageantry this year: He made his entrance as a mystery contestant, revealed himself and announced his retirement.

“I wanted to actually experience what it was like on the stage,” El Clownador said. “It was an amazing experience hearing the crowd, and hearing everybody cheering. The whole process of setting up the float and doing the parade, it was really neat.” There are only a few competitive eaters in each Wing Bowl; many are just average Philly guys. This is their chance to pretend to be a professional athlete for one day a year.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest The pageantry of Wing Bowl — including a parade of elaborately themed floats as the competitors enter the arena — can overshadow the competition itself. Photograph: Christian Graham/Special to The Guardian

Or, rather, more like a professional wrestler. It was appropriate, then, that this year’s celebrity entrant was ex-wrestler Mick Foley. The man who once wrestled as Mankind, Cactus Jack and Dude Love entered last, received a huge ovation and even had a bag of tricks befitting a pro wrestling heel. He was disqualified in the first round for stuffing wings into a fanny pack. “In pro wrestling, I never had to worry about vomiting on live national television,” Foley said. “That became a major concern here, so I thought the dignified way out was to cheat, and get caught doing so.” Even Foley, who has previously been cheered by thousands of fans, called the experience “surreal.”

Philadelphians have a tremendous ability for self-criticism. The company that towers over Philadelphia, Comcast, is hated. Mayors, no matter how popular, are booed at events. The Rocky statue, at the base of the Art Museum steps, draws huge lines of tourists but is hated by many. The Mummers Parade, an annual New Year’s Day celebration put on by brigades of amateurs, is decried as racist, obnoxious and out-of-touch.

The Wing Bowl critique has become its own genre of journalism in the city. Last year, Philadelphia Daily News columnist Ronnie Polaneczky attended the event and chronicled the carnage. Philadelphia magazine, who I freelance for regularly, called for the end of the event and stuck up for the now-deceased chickens. Start-up news site Billy Penn decried the event in a preview.

Of course, there is a reason for Philadelphians’ penchant for self-criticism. There is a separate Wikipedia page dedicated to Comcast’s misdeeds. Mayors usually deserve to be booed. The Rocky film series is pretty stupid, and that statue is just a movie prop. The Mummers are often out of touch and they turn downtown Philadelphia into a sea of urine on New Year’s Day. Wing Bowl is no exception to this collection.

While a swath of the crowd is intoxicated and people do get into fights, most of the criticism of Wing Bowl stems from its treatment of women. It would not be accurate to say Wing Bowl has a creepy sexual undertone, because the creepy sexual undertone is the event. Unless you’re really into competitive eating, the actual contest is not that exciting. Wing Bowl is like a sporting event, but only the downtime. It’s one long timeout. In the tradition of morning radio’s odd obsession with attractive women, Wing Bowl features lots of nudity.

Women show skin as they cheer on the wing eaters. Strip clubs are advertised. Porn stars appear. This year before the doors opened, workers draped thousands of t-shirts reading “Beat the Meat” onto the seats at the Wells Fargo Center. (It was a sandwich promotion.) The Can Cam, officially about beer, scans the arena for women. The predominently male crowd encourages them to flash their boobs; Wing Bowl’s logo this year even contained Mardi Gras beads. When they don’t flash, they are booed. Two years ago the Daily News listed its all time favorite Wingettes. In his profile, El Clownador lists his favorite part of Wing Bowl as “boobies.”



Facebook Twitter Pinterest It would not be accurate to say Wing Bowl has a creepy sexual undertone, because the creepy sexual undertone is the event. Photograph: Christian Graham/Special to The Guardian

WIP seems to relish the criticism. The Wing Bowl theme contains the lyric “Honey flashes in the stands, I wonder who brought her / Please kind in mind that she’s somebody’s daughter.” Apparently unaware she did not actually compete in Wing Bowl, Cataldi called Polaneczky “a bitch who needs a laxative” on air. “Women are being objectified in that event,” Cataldi told The Philly Voice. “Gluttony is being celebrated. They’re right about their criticisms, but that doesn’t mean the event should go away. That means they should go away.”

Polaneczky was slapped on her ass attending last year’s event, and many women who have attended the event report being ogled, harassed and groped. Looking at it that way, Wing Bowl is a giant party encouraging sexual assault. Members of The King’s Men, a Philadelphia-based men’s Christian group best known for anti-pornography advocacy, were outside with signs for the second straight year.

“We want the attendees to think about what’s going on in there,” King’s Men founder Mark Houck said. “It’s not just your average wing-eating contest. … We’re just hoping that we’re able to positively impact one person.”

Before the event, many drivers entering the parking lot argued with protesters. “You know these women come to this event of their own volition,” a particularly erudite passenger yelled from her car. But Houck says his group’s outreach event is at least making people think about it. “We’re just trying to say: It’s not a sport, it’s not entertainment, it’s disgusting,” he said. “The people come out, the people are disgusted by their behavior. I think when people come out and they think, ‘You know, that wasn’t that fun.’ It was a positive dialogue when people were leaving.”

The criticism seems to have had an effect. Doubtlessly the crowd’s behavior did not change, but this year’s Wing Bowl was toned down by the promoters. The Can Cam was more limited than usual, and camera operators were quicker to cut away when a woman began to show her breasts than in years past. It may not be much of an improvement — the video board’s primary feature was a kiss cam that always centered on two women.

Wing Bowl will continue despite the growing criticism. As depressing as people may find this fact, it is an actual Philadelphia tradition. “If you’re from Philadelphia, you’re here,” says Bob Shoudt, who competes as Notorious B.O.B. The man formerly known as Humble Bob placed third with 280 wings, but won a Chrysler 300 as the top local eater. Squibb had won that title the previous six years.

“If you’re anywhere near New Orleans, you’re going to go to Mardi Gras. … There are certain traditions around the country,” he said. “This is a tradition. I don’t know why. But nobody would argue that it’s not. Stuff just happens, and it builds, and here we are. It doesn’t make any sense. First thing in the morning, a stadium full of people Giving out cars. Cars. Not just a car. Cars.”

And El Clownador may not have made his final appearance. “I wanted to do one-and-done, but I don’t know, I might be back,” he said. He burped, laughed, and hit his chest. “A little indigestion.”