Something I have observed during my time following Philadelphia sports teams is the dynamic between the city and its professional athletes. Specifically, the way certain stars embrace the city and, in turn, are embraced by it, while others never quite seem to find a home in the south Philly sports complex. Partly, this has to do with expectations: expectations of the players by fans who, fairly or otherwise, expect a particular kind of devotion and work ethic that not all athletes are mentally prepared to take on. Though I do consider myself a Philadelphia sports fan, my purpose is not to defend the fans or their behavior. Part of the problem with the reputation they have garnered (whether earned or overblown) is that it becomes a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy, where fans feel the need to act out to live up to the mystique that has been cultivated in media and sports circles that they are now equated to. What it boils down to is passion, which the fandom possesses in spades and expects its athletic counterparts to do the same. While physical prowess and technical ability certainly play a role in securing the fans’ loyalty, there is as much importance placed on the perception of heart and effort as there is pure talent when it comes to who is revered and who is remembered with disdain and vitriol. I want to examine players who faced adversity in their careers and responded in very different ways to look at how that has shaped their perception and legacy amongst Philadelphians.
One such case that I find particularly fascinating is the drama of the Ben Simmons saga. Having played just one year of college basketball at LSU, Simmons was a highly touted, talented and physically gifted prospect when he declared for the 2016 NBA draft. Despite his clear natural abilities, there were some critics even then who questioned Simmons’ work ethic and perseverance, raising questions about a seeming lack of competitiveness in important games during his time at LSU. Though these concerns were ignored by 76ers executives at the time, they proved to be valid ones after Simmons failed to perform in crucial playoff games, consistently refusing to take open shots or work on weaker aspects of his play; statistically, he ranks as one of the worst free throw shooters in playoff history. Following back-to-back early playoff exits and facing heavy criticism for his uninspiring performance, Simmons then made the decision to demand a trade and refused to play for the team coming into the 2021 season despite four years remaining on his contract. If there had been any hope for Ben Simmons to prove the doubters wrong and rectify his image in the eyes of the Sixers’ faithful, that choice proved to be the final nail in that coffin.
In the eyes of Philadelphia sports fans, quitting on the team is the cardinal sin from which there is no return. It all comes back to the aforementioned reputation for passion: in Philadelphia, you are expected to put up with the boos for a lackluster performance if you want to enjoy the cheers for succeeding. The extreme highs and lows are part of the experience, for better or worse. “Tough love,” they call it. Apathy is the worst crime one can commit under these circumstances, to simply stop showing up. Simmons likely would have been looked on at least slightly more favorably had he come out and openly stated his problem with the team, its management, the city; something other than effectively ghosting his teammates and the fans. That kind of spurning is what gets under Philadelphia sports fans’ skins the most. In a similar vein, the Phillies’ top draft pick in 1997 J.D. Drew refused to sign with the team, demanding an unreasonable signing bonus, and was heckled and booed incessantly whenever he returned to the city for the duration of his career, even having d-cell batteries thrown at him during his first game at Veteran’s Stadium. To his credit, Simmons at least played well during the regular season in his time with the Sixers, earning Rookie of the Year honors and a pair of All-Star selections; but his eventual return to Philadelphia after being traded to the Nets was about as welcoming a reception as Drew’s was (albeit without the projectile batteries).
Even players who are openly antagonistic towards the fans do not inspire the same level of vitriolic response as perceived quitters do in Philadelphia. Jared Verse, Ram’s defensive end and 2025 Rookie of the Year recipient, told The Los Angeles Times prior to their playoff matchup that he “hated” Eagles fans and called them “so annoying.” Verse, however, clearly reveled in playing the villain, taunting fans from the field prior to the game, and backed up his trash talk by being a disruptive force during the game. His is the kind of passion that Philly fans can appreciate, as it is the same energy they hope to see from their own players. They’re also quite accustomed to being the subject of disdain from opposing players and fanbases: it’s no coincidence that “no one likes us, we don’t care” has become a common refrain in this town.
In some cases, the scrutiny of the Philly faithful draws the ire of their own players when the “tough love” proves to be too much. Such was the case for Alec Bohm, another former top draft pick by the Phillies who has been their starting third baseman since 2020. His career thus far has had its share of ups and downs, but detractors have been especially critical of his defensive abilities, particularly during his first few seasons. During a 2022 divisional home game against the Mets, Bohm committed three defensive errors in the first three innings of the game, drawing a hail of boos and jeers from the crowd. Broadcast cameras captured the moment following his second error when Bohm walked past teammate Didi Gregorious and muttered “I f—ing hate this place,” clearly readable for the entire viewing audience.
At this point, Bohm was at a critical juncture in deciding how to handle this situation. Ironically, it was not the first time a Phillies third baseman had made disparaging remarks about the Philadelphia faithful: decades earlier, Phillies legend and Hall of Famer Mike Schmidt had done much worse, calling fans a “mob scene” that were “uncontrollable” and “beyond help,” and arguing that he had been underappreciated for his contributions to the team and the city. Having to then return home to that “mob scene,” Schmidt came out for the next home game wearing a wig and sunglasses as a mock disguise, adding levity to what might have otherwise been an ugly reception. Bohm, now potentially facing a similar scenario, decided to be direct with reporters after the game and own up to his mistake. Rather than attempt to deny what the cameras captured or deflect responsibility, he was honest about his (understandable) frustration and apologized. He respected the intelligence of the fans enough to give a real answer rather than a PR bog-standard nothing response. The next day, appearing in the 8th inning as a pinch hitter, Bohm received a standing ovation (note John Kruk’s closing comments). For further viewing into the ovation phenomena, see the short Netflix documentary that was made highlighting a fan’s organization of a similar reception for Trea Turner.
So what does all of this say about the much maligned Philadelphia sports fandom? There are a few things they have come to expect from their players beyond just their ability to catch or shoot or hit a baseball. For one, they want players who are as excited about their team and their sport as they are. They can spot a player whose heart isn’t in it from a mile away, and once they do there is not much coming back from it. Another thing they can sense and have no tolerance for is nonsense. They don’t want things to be sugarcoated, or to be lied to, or to have their time wasted. Ultimately, they want respect: respect for not just them, but for the city and all that it values. Show them love, and they will pay it back a hundred times over.