That such a big deal is made over the selection of the Phillies ballgirls is either a sign of the hunger celebratory Phillies fans have for anything related to their teams, or the hypersexualization of everything in Philly’s sports scene.

There’s a three-page story in the PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER, and remember, the Inky is supposed to be the serious one of the Philly papers. But mostly the story is an excuse to run a photo gallery of the girls, all nubile and college-aged and blonde (and after the jump).

More than 1,600 applicants tried out to join the squad, and after three rounds of cuts, only nine survived to join the ten girls returning from last year. (Usually there’s a two-season limit on their careers, after which, at the tender age of around 21, they’re disposed off for not being young and beautiful enough.)

According to squad supervisor Michele DeVicaris, “a lot of them think it is a beauty competition and it really is not.” Really, Michele? That photo gallery and my rapidly tightening underwear beg to differ.

Seriously, what is it about Philly sports that everything has to be about sex? The Eagles cheerleaders are more popular than the Eagles. The best thing about the Flyers is their ice girls. Even the Wing Bowl, which, being an eating contest should be manly enough, is more about women flashing the crowd that the gurgitators.

Is it because most Philly women are so busted the male populace is desperate to look at anything attractive? Is it because centuries of plain Quaker dress have aroused an intense interest in showing skin? Or is it because Philadelphians have dispatched with the charade that we’re not thinking about sex all the time, and just given in to what all men want?

I’m off my soapbox now. Here’s what we all came to see.