Fifty years have gone by and they are still talking about the magnitude of what happened that day, replaying the game with artificial color highlights and even continuing the debate about the classic’s most controversial play. It was one of those epic events, when those who cared knew exactly where they were and what they were doing.
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The date was Dec. 28, 1958, and I was among the estimated 12,000 high-energy football tourists who invaded Yankee Stadium for what has become known as The Greatest Game Ever Played.
A half-century later some of the details might be a little hazy, but it sure doesn’t seem like it was that long ago that an unflappable quarterback with high-top shoes and flat-top hair, led two scintillating downfield marches that put Baltimore, the Colts and the NFL — not necessarily in that order— in the glare of the national spotlight.
And, while what happened on the field that day was historical, what took place here the week leading up to that game was, in a way, even more remarkable. Certainly, it was something that for varying reasons, wouldn’t happen today, as there’s no way fans of the visiting team would make up almost 25 percent of the crowd for a championship game.
Fifty years ago today, I was fewer than four months into my journalism career The News-Post and Sunday American, which was the forerunner to The News American. As it turned out, the newspaper was one of the busiest ticket distributors.
At the urging of my friend Dave Bryan, who was the sports editor of newspaper at Loyola College, we decided to take part in the exodus, which included taking our fiances for what proved to be a ride for the ages. One of our most prized memories was gazing down 34th Street trying to ascertain which one was the Empire State Building.
As I recall, tickets for the game — upper deck, end zone — and a round-trip train ticket cost about the same –$8 — though none of us has either stub to prove it. On the morning of the game, Penn Station was probably as crowded as it has ever been, but somehow everybody survived. I haven’t heard of anybody who missed the train going up, although we’re not to sure about the return trip.
“My two most vivid recollections from that day,” said Bryan, “are of Gino [Marchetti] being carried off the field after breaking his ankle and a bunch of guys wearing blue-and-white hats getting on a subway headed for Coney Island after the game.”
Much of the game wasn’t memorable, and if it wasn’t for the goal-line stand by the Giants, The Greatest Game probably would have gone down as just another dull NFL championship game. But the way the Colts won left us amazed — and dazed.
I remember the goal post coming down and fans swarming the field — how bizarre it was that visiting fans had taken over the stadium.
The ride back to Baltimore, in some ways, was as eventful as the game itself. Members of the team band — apparently divided into three groups, one for each train — paraded through the aisles playing the team’s fight song and leading the chairs. In the seat behind us, in a deep slumbering state, one gentleman seemed oblivious to it all until somebody started the familiar “Gimme a C” cheer. Finally aroused, he shouted “Gimme a beer!” to which his female companion said: “Go back to sleep” before informing all who would listen that the fan had wandered out to the men’s room with two minutes to play and didn’t return until after the game ended.
So, if you meet up with somebody who says “I was there, but I didn’t see the end,” you’ll know.
As we approached Baltimore, by now in a more subdued state, Bryan and I reflected on a Colts’ tradition of the times and agreed that, with so many people having made the trip to New York, there surely couldn’t have been much of a reception for the Colts’ arrival at the airport.
We soon learned differently, after turning on the car radio and finding out that Friendship Airport had been invaded by a mob twice the size of the one that went to New York. It just added to the epic events of the day — one of those times when you remember where you were and what you were doing.
And we were there — at least for part of it.
