It's the Friday before the Super Bowl.
Anyone else notice something is missing?
No, not the Eagles playing in the big game? That was last year.
But last year - and what the Eagles did - plays a big role in the end of the road for a distinctly Philly tradition.
Yes, we are lamenting the demise of Wing Bowl.
Let's face it, this annual bacchanal of wings had become a tradition, something that screamed "Philly," almost as much as Rocky or the Mummers.
But I agree with the decision by the folks at SportsRadio 94 WIP to end the wingding, which had taken place every Friday morning since 1992.
Remember, this was dreamed up by Al Morganti, Angelo Cataldi and the rest of the Morning Gang as a way to ease the pain of year after year of the Eagles failing to deliver a Super Bowl win.
In effect, it celebrated our reputation as lovable losers.
What started with a few people in the lobby of the Wyndham Franklin Plaza hotel in Center City had grown into a massive production that packed the Wells Fargo Center for a pre-dawn party.
There were entourages, huge production entrances of the contestants, and let's not forget the Wingettes. There was the spectacle, the gluttony - and the almost incomprehensible sight of a tiny woman wolfing down 501 chicken wings in 30 minutes to take the crown.
But all of it was predicated on the fact that our fair city had never won a Super Bowl.
That ended last year.
We're no longer losers.
At least for two more days, we are still the defending Super Bowl champions.
They made the right call. For a quarter of a century, we celebrated in our own inimitable way because we did not have a Super Bowl championship to otherwise soothe the souls of our faithful fans.
RIP, Wing Bowl. For 26 years, we held the world's biggest pre-Super Bowl wingding.
But it always was a symbol of our hunger for the Lombardi Trophy.
That's no longer the case.
A wing and a prayer? Those prayers were answered last year.
We're champions. At least for two more days.
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