The first National Football League game I saw was a Pro Bowl my dad took me to at the Los Angeles Coliseum in the late 1950s when I was 9 or 10.
Detailed memories are sketchy after all these years, but I have strong lingering impressions — backed by newspaper accounts of the time — of a close and hard-fought game with serious hitting that echoed in the cavernous Coliseum.
The players competed for a $700 winners share and $500 for losers; these early Pro Bowls weren’t even televised.
Dad found the players’ exit, and I was able to get my program graciously signed by legends such as Johnny Unitas, Y.A. Tittle, Norm Van Brocklin, Ollie Matson, Frank Gifford, Paul Hornung, Gino Marchetti and Big Daddy Lipscomb — a treasure lost in the move to Hawaii a few years later.
After this childhood thrill, I was delighted when the Pro Bowl came to Aloha Stadium and I was able to take my own son several times.
We saw the legends of a different era — Jerry Rice, Deion Sanders, Steve Young, Warren Moon, Junior Seau, Reggie White, Eric Dickerson, Emmitt Smith, Bill Romanowski, Ronnie Lott and many more.
We witnessed John Elway’s final touchdown drive before retiring and Barry Sanders’ last run from scrimmage.
I thought then the Pro Bowl was a great fit for Hawaii, a classy event that broadly engaged with the community, raised funds for charity and gave local kids the same cherished opportunity I’d had to see their heroes in person.
The state’s $5 million payout to the NFL seemed a reasonable investment for the community enrichment and the $26 million in economic activity generated by the game.
But when the NFL jilted us this week to move the Pro Bowl to Orlando, my only reaction was, “Meh.”
Like many relationships, this one had simply run its course after 35 years.
The NFL’s decision in recent years to hold the game a week before the Super Bowl instead of the week after robbed the event of many of the game’s greatest stars.
The play became so patty-cake that NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell threatened to terminate the game as an embarrassment to the league.
The last Pro Bowl I attended was so boring that in the fourth quarter the fans abandoned their chants of “NFC” and “AFC” for “KFC.”
As the quality of the game steadily slipped, the NFL’s annual jerking us around about whether the Pro Bowl would stay or go became tiresome and insulting.
In the end, my only regret the game was leaving was that it meant young local players like Marcus Mariota and DeForest Buckner likely won’t realize their dreams of playing before the home crowd when they inevitably become all-stars.
Sadly, however, staying together for the kids seldom saves a relationship.
Reach David Shapiro at volcanicash@gmail.com or blog.volcanicash.net Opens in a new tab.
