In Philly, they rolled out the cheese — literally

In England, people throw their bodies down a steep hill for a round of Double Gloucester cheese — and perhaps a trip to the hospital. In Spring Garden, Philadelphians throw cheese down a street to get free food and drinks and, for the winner, a trophy emblazoned with, “Congrats on adulting.”

On Saturday, drivers honked, buses slowed down as passengers watched in awe, and passersby on foot asked to join as a group of 35 people gathered for the 3rd Annual Cheese Roll Day.

“This perfectly encapsulates the randomness of Philly,” said Nicole DiGangi, 38, who was walking with her boyfriend when the pair spotted a large crowd in seafoam green shirts. “He thought it was a gender reveal.”

But the only baby was the 2-pound baby Swiss wheel ready to roll down some Philly concrete.

At the intersection of 19th and Spring Garden Streets, competitors anticipated their turns behind a ”start here” line drawn in green chalk. At the end of the block, a catcher, referee, time watcher, and time recorder awaited.

The rules were clear: Participants must release the cheese after the referee bellows, “Three, two, one, roll.” For the throw to be valid, the baby Swiss had to hit the ground before crossing a small cardboard silhouette of Mr. 305 (a.k.a Pitbull) that marked the end of the “cheese drop zone.” The bowler with the fastest cheese roll time would be the winner.

One round into the competition, the rules switched to allow each player to throw twice, with the best time counting.

Bad news for first-time catcher and cofounder Emily Williams. A retired nonprofessional softball player who left the game because of a finger injury, she would six years later have her fingers whacked against the curb by a fast-moving wheel of cheese.

“This is a dense, heavy cheese,” said Williams, who never imagined herself running down the block chasing cheese every time someone missed the mark. “You almost feel like you are risking your life for the cheese. There is some traffic, it’s risky, adrenaline is pumping, but we got it.”

Soon, a neighbor lent her a baseball glove for the rest of the competition. Just in time for the 21st player to throw with such traction that small pieces of cheese began flying off mid-roll.

“When it’s broken open it’s a little sticky, heavy, thick, creamy, and chunky,” Williams said while putting gray tape around the circumference of the cheese.

Three participants later, the patchwork wasn’t enough. More tape was needed to leave the once-yellow ball looking gray, with only two tiny yellow spots preventing it from blending in with the sidewalk, but the competition continued.

Once everyone had thrown, scores were carefully compared in pictures because the whiteboard that tracked them had to be wiped off to accommodate all players.

How did we get here? With a quartet of friends who called themselves “The Committee,” a cheese that no one remembers how it was acquired, and a couple of holiday parties.

On the last day of 2021, Tricia Day, Grace Leone, Camille Mola, and Emily Williams discovered an old baby Swiss wheel in Mola’s fridge. Unwilling to eat it, and unsure of what to do with it, the group began pranking each other by sneaking the cheese into each other’s bags.

It went on until a 2022 Memorial Day party when the cheese, which was serving as a “hot potato” prop, fell to the floor and the group decided to throw it down the street to see who was the fastest, catching the interest of passersby.

It became an annual tradition.

“It’s another silly, ridiculous day. But it’s something everybody looks forward to and takes very seriously,” Mola said.

Last year, The Committee took the competition to the next level, adding the finish line, referee, an angel with cheese on a wing trophy, and even a Ben Franklin impersonator — played by one of their friends in a costume. They tried to switch it up and compete with manchego cheese, but it broke up too easily.

That competition led a neighbor, who had brought his teenage son to play, to donate a necklace that says “cheese” for this year’s winner.

That turned out to be James Tomosky, a Philadelphia carpenter with a winning time of just over one second covering half a city block.

“I stay on business and I did it for Michael,” Tomosky said in his acceptance speech, trophy in hand and his 11-month-old son and inspiration on his hip.