The MLB All-Star Game can bring celebrities, national attention, and a weeklong celebration of baseball.

None of that matters. The Schmitter is back.

After a decade in exile, McNally’s legendary creation — chopped steak, grilled salami, melted cheese, tomatoes, fried onions, and Schmitter sauce on a Kaiser roll — is returning to Citizens Bank Park. For years, fans have mourned its disappearance, wondering why one of Philadelphia’s greatest culinary achievements had vanished from the home of the Phillies.

Now, balance has been restored.

There are sandwiches that define a city. The cheesesteak, the roast pork, the hoagie.

Then there’s the Schmitter, which looked at all three and decided they weren’t doing enough. It’s gloriously excessive, unapologetically Philadelphia, and tastes even better with nine innings of baseball.

The All-Star Game is supposed to showcase the best of Philadelphia. Now we can say: Mission accomplished.

Let’s get this straight.

One of the best pitchers in baseball won’t be recognized as an All-Star because … he’s scheduled to pitch too close to the All-Star Game.

That’s the rule.

Wheeler has a 2.28 ERA, struck out a career-high 14 Reds after learning he didn’t make the team, and has finished second in Cy Young voting twice. The Phillies have six All-Stars headed to Citizens Bank Park next week, yet somehow their ace isn’t one of them.

Wheeler called it “B.S.” And he’s right.

If a player is good enough to make the All-Star team but can’t pitch because of his regular-season schedule, name him anyway. Give him the honor, then replace him with someone who can actually throw an inning.

Instead, MLB managed to turn an exhibition game into a technicality, and the guy getting punished is one of the best pitchers in the sport.

Only Philadelphia could celebrate America’s birthday by setting off fireworks after last call.

Yes, thousands of people were woken up. Yes, parents everywhere suddenly had children who insisted they were “still not tired.” And yes, Reddit had plenty to say.

But given the choice between canceling the city’s biggest fireworks show in 250 years or waiting out a thunderstorm, officials made what they thought was the right call.

The weather wasn’t cooperating. The fireworks were already loaded. Thousands of people came back after midnight. So Philadelphia leaned into the chaos and celebrated anyway.

Was it inconvenient? Absolutely.

Decades from now, will people still be talking about the year Philadelphia launched fireworks at 2:30 a.m.? Absolutely.

Sometimes the best Philly stories start with, “You’re never going to believe what time this happened.”

Most bridges celebrate birthdays by … continuing to be bridges.

The Ben Franklin Bridge gets a block party, on Saturday.

For one day, cars are banned, pedestrians take over the roadway, and people can stroll across one of Philadelphia’s most iconic landmarks in a way that’s only happened a handful of times in the bridge’s 100-year history.

It’s the kind of event that reminds you infrastructure can actually be fun.

Sure, traffic will be a nightmare for a few hours.

But getting to wander down the middle of a century-old bridge with the Philadelphia skyline on one side and Camden on the other?

That’s worth a detour.

Chicago’s gain is Philadelphia’s loss.

Just weeks after WIP laid off Devan Kaney, she landed a job covering the Bears for Fox 32 Chicago. That’s usually a pretty good sign you had someone worth keeping.

Kaney stepped into one of the most visible sports media roles in the city during the Eagles’ Super Bowl run, handled it seamlessly, and became a familiar part of the broadcast.

Now WIP still needs someone to replace her.

Sometimes layoffs are unavoidable, but it’s never a great look when talented people leave because they have to, only to be snapped up by another major market before you’ve even filled the vacancy they left behind.

Not every landmark has four walls.

Keith Haring’s We the Youth mural could soon become one of the few murals protected on Philadelphia’s Register of Historic Places.

It’s been part of the neighborhood for nearly 40 years, it’s the only collaborative Haring mural still in its original location, and generations of Philadelphians have grown up with it.

The preservation concerns are fair. Once you start protecting one mural, where does the list end? That’s a problem for another day. Philadelphia has spent decades proving that murals aren’t decoration. They’re part of the city’s identity.

It makes sense that eventually we’d decide one was historical, too.