Big ups to the 700 Level (Even if they didn’t know Joe Morgan played for the Phillies. Hello? The Wheeze Kids?) for posting video of PRISM’s fond farewell. This poignant goodbye from baseball/college basketball analyst Larry Rosen (who I’m certain is still calling hoops somewhere) followed the rarest of occasions — a Phillies victory in 1997.
Sadly, I think the channel faded to black about halfway through Larry’s spiel.
Anyway, for you youngins and transplants out there, PRISM (Philadelphia Regional In-Home Sports and Movies) was a local cable channel catering to males from the late ’70s through 1997. They broadcasted home Phillies, Sixers and Flyers games, Big 5 basketball, Spectrum Wrestling (a big `Shalom‘ to my former boss and ace WWF locker room reporter/philanthropist “Killer” Kal Rudman) and every T&A comedy classic imaginable: Animal House, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Stripes, Caddyshack, Caddyshack II, Up the Creek, Porky’s, and Revenge of the Nerds.
But as a 700 Level reader named Matt astutely points out late nights were PRISM’s finest hour. And I’m not talking about the Phils all night doubleheader in ’93. PRISM gave Skinomax (or as we called it in my high school, the Shannon Tweed Network) a run for their money with their own fine array of late night soft core programming like Burning Snow, Perfect Timing and several installments of the celebrated Emmanuelle series.
Something completely unforeseen — and truly, madly, deeply fucking awesome — happened during PRISM’s waning months, though. THEY STARTED AIRING HARDCORE PORNO ON WEEKENDS!!!!
Gone were the days of implied anal, suggested penetration and cutaway money shots. In were a couple months worth of hardcore balling, pop shots, girl-on-girl action, bad-place sex, and a severe case of carpal tunnel in my right hand.
Like the store that loses its lease and starts making batshit crazy deals to liquidate inventory, it’s like PRISM said ‘Fuck it. We’re closing up shop in a couple months, let’s go out with a bang! Literally.’ And bless ’em for it.
Don’t even tell me I’m the only one who remembers this.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: PBR is our regular sports column, wherein our man in the Jersey ‘Burbs calls Philly sports and sports-media as he sees ’em. His name is Patrick Berkery and he plays drums for the Pernice Brothers and, get this, he actually gives a shit about sports. Weird, huh? Born & raised on a steady diet of Birds, Phils, Flyers and boiled potatoes. Phillies season ticket holder since 1978. Longs for the days of Jim Barniak & Spectrum Wrestling on PRISM. Thinks all sportswriters dress funny and should stay off TV. Except Phil Sheridan. His feelings on the Philadelphia Eagles are not unlike his stance on Belle & Sebastian and the Grateful Dead: Loves the music, hates most of the fans. Frankly, we could care less. We used to be big-time jocks, but then we discovered girls and pot and rock n’ roll, and suddenly the idea of strapping on forty pounds of gladiator gear in August and rolling around in the grass with other sweaty men and then giving them a smack on the ass afterwards just seemed a little, well, gay. But we realize this is a minority opinion. Hence this column.