basketball and soup

February and March are the months when all the tourists flood into Pottsville, and I don’t like it. For one thing, it is hard to cross Market Street carrying pepperoni pizzas with all the cars heading to and from Martz Hall. Yes, Martz Hall. It is basketball season you know. The Hall is the site of countless play-off games. Basketball is popular around here; so popular that some people’s skin actually turns orange and bumpy. People come here from all over eastern Pennsylvania to watch the games. On Feb 8th, the line of traffic was so heavy for the Pine Grove- Marian girls’ game and the Shamokin-North Schuylkill game my pepperoni pizzas got cold as I waited to cross the street. Luckily, in a few weeks it will all be over and these out-of-towners will be gone. Pottsville will get back to its sleepy self.

Not many of you realized that this is the city’s biggest tourist season. That‘s because we try to keep it quiet. Too much attention may get these visitors to stay awhile. You know, maybe they would want to get a bite to eat after the game if they had information on what’s available. If that happens, then that means the locals, including me, may have to wait longer to get served. That is intolerable. That is why there are banners on all of the entrances to the city proclaiming, “Welcome to Pottsville. Enjoy the Games and Hurry Home!”

Some people suggested that the city tap into these visitors with promotions –flyers could be given out to at the door with discount coupons to local restaurants and promoting other things in the area. They say that it could be a boost for the local economy. I think this is a terrible idea. These basketball games are for families, and families should go home and eat together, not roaming around our streets. Also, I like the peace and quiet of eating in a restaurant where I recognize every single face. Unfamiliar faces make me paranoid when I am dining.
By the way, my favorite food is soup; any kind of soup – gazpacho, cold beet borscht, bouillon, gumbo, consommé, bouillabaisse, porridge, broth, chowder, or even vichyssoise. If it’s not liquid, I don’t want it.

Not surprisingly, my favorite local restaurant is the Soup Kitchen on Mahantongo Street. It’s right across the street from the Yuengling Brewery, the biggest tourist attraction in the city. Sometimes the tourists leave the brewery, take photographs and then head over the Soup Kitchen for a bowl of the “soup de jour”. The Kitchen is the only eatery within walking distance. Yes, I know the Creamery is also across the street, but even if you could get inside the locked-up Yuengling dairy, you won’t find anything edible inside anymore, not even one stale ice cream cone. That is why I stick to soup.
Some people have suggested that having a restaurant or bistro near the Brewery would be good for both the local economy and the city image that is projected to the thousands of tourists visiting the Brewery. Again, I argued vehemently against that idea. Pottsville should be for Pottsvillians. These goody two-shoes can hand out packets of Sweet ‘n Low to the hungry tourists as they leave the Brewery if they are so worried about their hunger pains. That should be enough to tide them over until they get out of the city. Give me a break. I want to be left alone with my soup.

This weekend, before heading to a basketball game, I plan to dine alone at the Kitchen, I will crumble some soda crackers, and then slowly consume only the vowels in my alphabet soup. You know, A, E, I. O, and U; in that order. I will then ask for a doggy bag and carefully remove all of the consonants and take them with me to the game.

We are in the midst of March madness around here and everyone goes nuts.