Appreciation for Angelo Cataldi, father confessor of Philadelphia sports

About two years ago I began working as a fill-in host for WIP-FM (94.1). Not long after I started, I was asked to occasionally warm the seat next to Angelo Cataldi, the lead host of the station’s Morning Show.

I’d interacted a lot with co-hosts Rhea Hughes, the energy behind the show, and Al Morganti, who still was a hockey guy, but I didn’t know Angelo.

My loss.

Angelo retired Friday. I sat in my car and listened to him banter with “Arson Arnie,” his No. 1 caller, then thank his audience of 33 years and a legion of coworkers and mentors.

Angelo had spent more than three decades as the Philly sports world’s preeminent provocateur, journalist, clown, and priest. A nondenominational confessor whose altar was open to all.

I understood the gravity of the moment. At least, I did now. I wouldn’t have spent that 10 extra minutes in a dirty old minivan if I hadn’t spent the last two years watching and learning from a master.

So, this is what I learned.

Angelo was incredibly connective. People identified with him. Even as the world around him became more fractious and divided, he was a guiding light, a touchstone, a galvanizing entity with whom folks could find respite from worry and sanctuary in sport.

He offered escape. He put you on the fields and courts and inside the locker rooms. It’s impossible to quantify how many people he touched and helped. In the last two years I’ve heard dozens of testimonials from callers and neighbors and friends telling me how he helped grieving mothers and dying fathers and real people with real problems; how he helped them hold out through sleepless nights and break through to their lonely dawns because they were looking forward to his braying, Rhode Island voice to come booming into their cars or bedrooms. He was invaluable.

Angelo worked incredibly hard. A former Morning Show intern who had another job told me he’d often work into the night, come in and crash at the studio, then be awakened at 2:30 a.m. by Angelo, fresh and ready to prep for the 6 a.m. show, pulling sound bites, composing a schedule, narrowing his lists of questions for any coach or player or politician who might be on the show that morning. Angelo watched, read, and researched everything he could. He was obsessive about preparation, demanding of his subordinates and peers, and polished in his delivery, and he wanted everyone around him to meet his standard.

Angelo was incredibly knowledgeable, with a gift for relevant recall. From Jackie Robinson to Muhammad Ali to Michael Jordan to Tiger Woods, he had a gift both breathtaking and devious. He could remember whom Ali beat in the Rumble in the Jungle as easily as how many women Tiger had affairs with (about 50, we think).

Angelo was incredibly principled. He was brutal to those who abused privilege, but empathetic to those who needed advocacy. He had no sympathy for someone like former Eagles coach Andy Reid, whom he considered arrogant and entitled, but, before the show and during breaks, in discussions about women in sports or Black head coaching candidates or global politics — he hates Putin — Angelo almost always sided with the marginalized party. His heart was as big as his mouth.

Angelo was incredibly professional. The occasionally ragged nature of the production was just a ruse. He was always in control, with an Ivy League sense of order and propriety. Granted, he grew into this, but then everything either grows or it dies. He kept growing.

Angelo was incredibly grateful to his callers and sponsors. He treated his sponsors with utter fealty. As for the callers, we’ve seen some hosts be dismissive, disrespectful, or demeaning. Granted, Angelo could be all of those things, but he treated his callers with whatever dignity was proportionate to their treatment of him, or their topic, or their opinion. He was, generally, fair.

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And, finally, as Morganti would say, Angelo is “wicked smaaht.” Just a brilliant, elastic, voracious thinker. He may sound dumb, but that’s just a disguise.

Me?

I’ve lived and worked in Philadelphia for 28 years. My own relationship with Angelo, such as it was, evolved. At first, for him to me, it was outrage and dislike; for me to him, it was incredulity or indifference. Eventually, he mellowed a bit, I hardened a bit, and we found more common ground. That was about 10 years ago, around the time Reid left town. Weird, right?

At any rate, after years of avoiding the Morning Show for the last decade, I’ve tuned in consistently.

I like and respect Angelo as much as I like and respect anyone in journalism.

He tolerates me.

The most resounding lesson Angelo taught me lay in understanding the people who paid us both: the Philly fan. Very invested. A little crazy. Not always rational. Not always logical. Very parochial. But, always, invested.

And that was good for his business; really, it was good for our business.

And that’s what I learned.

Godspeed, Angelo.