Remember the Firebirds

The patio table was loaded with chips, dips, salsa, bite-size veggies, and a fresh guacamole that was very special. A large cooler held a variety of beverages on ice. A local pizza parlor was standing by, ready to deliver its finest when halftime rolled around. It was Super Bowl Sunday and a half-dozen friends were gathered to enjoy the spectacle on large, flatscreen television sets, including one outdoors on the patio. Nick Shane sat at the table, an ice-cold lager in hand, enjoying the guacamole and the California sun peeking in and out of puffy clouds.

“Got everything you need, Mr. Shane?” Ted smiled and clapped a hand on Nick’s shoulder.

“I’m good, Ted. You’re a stellar host. Thanks for having me.”

“Hey, mi casa su casa. Know what I mean?” The young man laughed and scooped salsa onto a tortilla chip. “You and Del are always welcome.”

Nick’s son, Del, approached the table. “You okay, pops? Behavin’ yourself over here?”

“Yeah, just sitting here trying to remember a Super Bowl from a long time ago. I think it was 1971. What was that, Super Bowl V?”

“Really? What’s up with that?”

“The pregame hoopla was different back then.” Nick paused to sip his beer. “I remember they played a documentary film, about an hour long. I’m pretty sure it was 1971.”

“Yeah? What was it about?”

“All about the Pottstown Firebirds.”

Del and Ted laughed and glanced at each other. What was Del’s old man conjuring here? Several guys came to the table to fill small plates with snacks and join the conversation. They were all in their forties. Nick was the odd man, having recently celebrated his eightieth birthday.

“Is this a real thing, Dad? Or are you spinning some fiction here?” Del smiled, wondering how many beers his father had downed. Game time was still thirty minutes away.

“Oh, it’s real all right. The Firebirds were a minor league football team in Pottstown, Pennsylvania. They played in—I’m trying to remember—I think it was the Atlantic Coast League. I think that’s right. Can’t remember how many teams, but they were made up of former NFL players, former high school and college kids hoping to move up, and guys who just couldn’t give up the game.”

“Minor league football? Really?”

“Yeah. Anyway, the Firebirds were a colorful bunch of misfits, led by a head coach—can’t remember his name—who didn’t wear sox or underwear. There was a defensive lineman who was a hippy and lived on a commune. Another lineman who was a poet and had a drug problem. And a quarterback who called himself The King. Jimmy ‘The King’ Corcoran.”

“And all of this was in a documentary?”

“Yep. Produced by NFL Films, if I remember correctly. So, the Firebirds were having a great season in 1970, fighting to go undefeated and win a championship. At that time, no pro team at any level had gone undefeated.”

“Need another beer, Mr. Shane?”

“Sure. Thanks, Ted. So, here’s the conflict—The King was almost un-coachable. He was a total narcissist. Had to be the center of attention at all times. And he and the head coach were in a constant battle. The coach wanted a disciplined offense, primarily a strong running game. The King wanted to open it up and pass, pass, pass.”

“But they’re undefeated?”

“Right. I think it was the final regular season game, very close, right down to the last minute. The Firebirds were deep in the other team’s territory, and they just needed to keep the ball on the ground for one more play, then kick a field goal for the win. Coach sent in a running play. The King thought he saw a crack in the defensive alignment. He called an audible at the line of scrimmage and threw a pass. It was intercepted. The Firebirds lost. The undefeated season was gone. Even though they went on to the championship game and won, they finished the season with one loss.”

“Wow! How did the coach take it?”

“He went nuts. It was his chance for immortality. The first undefeated season ever in pro football, even if it was minor league. He benched The King for the championship game. They won with a backup quarterback. I think I remember the coach’s name. It was DeFillipo. Don or Dave DeFillipo.”

“Dad, are you sure this isn’t some dream? You know you need to lay off the spicy food.”

“Yes, I’m sure. The NFL should replay the damn thing. It was a great film. But don’t take my word for it. Remember what Casey Stengel used to say…”

“Oh boy. Casey Stengel? And what did Casey say?”

“He liked to say, ‘You could look it up.’”

“Okay, Dad, we’ll ask Siri. I think I’m switching you to water.”

It was time for the coin flip, followed by kick off. The group started to move inside, fresh drinks in hand, excited for the start of the game. Super Bowl Sunday. Almost a national holiday, even in Pottstown, PA.

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