electrifying run to the Super Bowl.

More than 66,000 fans poured

into Paycor Stadium to watch Joe Burrow and company capture a
dramatic victory, capped by the Fumble in the Jungle, a 98-yard
return touchdown by defensive end Sam Hubbard, a Cincinnati
native and product of Moeller High School.
As rapturous Bengals fans filed out of the stadium with dreams
of glory to come, the contrast between Cincinnati’s two oldest
professional sports franchises couldn’t have been starker. The
Castellinis had officially replaced the Brown family, owners of the
Bengals, as Cincinnati’s sports villains. It took Mike Brown and
family almost 30 years to get the city back in their corner. How long

T H E W E AT H E R O U TS I D E H A D will it take the Castellinis?

DIPPED BELOW FREEZING ON A
CHILLY SATURDAY AFTERNOON
in mid-January, but spirits were high inside the Bally Sports
Club at Great American Ball Park. The annual members-only
luncheon of the Rosie Reds featured a buffet spread, and mem-
bers had been promised a keynote address from Cincinnati Reds
President Phil Castellini.
The Rosie Reds (ROSIE: “Rooters Organized to Stimulate In-
terest and Enthusiasm”) are an institution in this town. Formed in
1964 as a “women’s only group” in response to persistent rumors
that Reds owner Bill DeWitt intended to move the franchise to
another city, these are perhaps the most loyal and dedicated group
of Reds fans anywhere.
Castellini, son of team CEO Bob Castellini, has been a target
of frequent criticism since his disas-
Chris Wilson grew up as a die-hard Reds and Bengals fan in
southwest Virginia, just across the eastern Kentucky border in a
region that was once part of “Reds Country.” As a child, his family
made the four-hour trek several times a year to Cincinnati to watch
the Reds, and it became a cherished ritual. “My buddies and I would
get cheap hotel rooms across the river many times each summer,”
Wilson recalls. “When Great American Ball Park opened, we at-
tended 11 home games that first season.”
As he married and started a family of his own, they continued
making the trip west as often as possible, his oldest son even learn-
ing to keep his own scorecard at GABP at the age of 4. “The Reds
were our team,” he says. “It’s like they were part of our family.”
A couple of years ago, the Wilsons returned to Cincinnati. “My
kids didn’t attend their first Bengals game until 2013, and we hadn’t
been to another one since as a family,” he says, “but in 2021 we

“PROBABLY THE CRAZIEST

trous comments last year when he
asked fans “Where ya gonna go?” in
response to public criticism of the
team’s small payroll and perceived ATMOSPHERE I’VE EVER
lack of effort at improving the roster.
Phil has largely kept out of the public BEEN A PART OF.”
eye since that day, but when given a
platform at the Rosie Reds luncheon,
he proceeded to pick up where he left
off.
Castellini opened by admitting
that he had just learned that “Rosie”
was an acronym and asked if every-
one else knew that. A groan rose up
from the crowd, but Phil was off and
running. He claimed that the Reds
operate as a nonprofit and lament-
ed baseball’s guaranteed contracts,
asking rhetorically if “anyone here
[was] paid to not do their job?” And
then, the coup de grace: a slide show
in which he used cherry-picked data
to argue that the Reds simply cannot
compete with other teams in Major
League Baseball.
One day later, just down the riv-
erfront, the Cincinnati Bengals faced
off against the Baltimore Ravens in
the first playoff game since last year’s

PHOTOGRAPH BY SAM GREENE/THE ENQUIRER/USA TODAY NETWORK 50