But within a small circle 1947 is famous for the debut of the A-Bowl, a Thanksgiving Day football game played in the Noe Valley of San Francisco for 61 years.
Just about every Thanksgiving morning of my life, regardless where I am living or what I’m doing at the time, it is time to head for the Alvarado School in San Francisco to meet up with other like-minded friends and family for a two-hand touch football game.
My dad was one of the six teenage rowdy book stackers (stories of their exploits in the library could fill another column) at the main San Francisco Library who started this game. He was a member of the Three-As who would play the three members of the Red-As in the annual A-Bowl (with A being the polite way to say the derriere.)
My dad, along with two other participants of the original A-Bowl, is gone. He died between the 54th and 55th games. Another of the original footballers lost contact with the others sometime in the 1950s. Jack Goodwin, the captain of the Red-As told his wife he would only play for 60 years, and the 60th game was played two years ago.
My uncle, Louie Barberini is the last of the original remaining A-Bowlers.
Uncle Lou was my Dad’s best friend when they were kids, and that is how my Dad met my Mom, who was Uncle Lou’s younger sister. It’s possible I owe my very existence to the A-Bowl.
The original players had stopped playing regularly many years ago, with the second generation taking over most of the playing of the game. The third generation, led by my own son, supplies most of the speed while us older generation playing quarterback or pretend to block each other. My grandson came to the game this year as the first of the fourth generation team, but at 364 days old he wasn’t ready yet to get substituted in.
At times there has been a rather strenuous test to decide who could or couldn’t play. When one of the teams seemed to be fixing up daughters with talented players from San Francisco high school teams the other team started demanding marriage licenses.
Twenty-years ago three neighborhood kids (the McFadden’s) wanted to take part in the game and they have been part of the game ever since, with now their children participating in our family tradition. Two of the brothers were added to the Red-As and one to the Three-As.
The A-Bowl has had every bit as much controversy as the its Granddaddy, the Rose Bowl.
In the 1970s my sisters thought they should get to play. They showed up one year with signs and marched back and forth picketing the game. The next year they got in the game, but not with out protest. They said they felt unwelcome enough to never come back.
A number of years ago, a brother-in-law was tackled on the school pavement and required surgery on two knees. That was the end of my brother-in-laws playing in the A-Bowl.
There is a book of stats, showing participants and who scored every year since 1947.
There is even a trophy. Back in the 50s the early players found an old stuffed duck in a dumpster, and that has been the trophy since. It now has been mounted and put behind glass and goes home with someone from the winning team. My Mom used to hate it when it would come home with my Dad.
The Red-As lead the series with 34 wins, 25 losses and three ties.
Alvarado School has a divided schoolyard, with a lower and upper level. The original game is on the lower level, with a couple of Barberini’s younger brothers starting a new game on the upper level. They’ve only been playing around 55 years and have no trophy or stats.
At the end of the game we all get together, drink beer and smoke cigars at the Sunshine Market, one of those small neighborhood corner markets, which opens up special just for our group for a couple hours on Thanksgiving.
This year’s affair was a low-key game. Without the Goodwins from years past, the Red-As were a small group with many of their key players missing. It isn’t clear if something will have to be done in future years to make the teams more competitive than descendants of the original Red-As and Three-As.
The Three-As won this year, 35-16.
