The author, John Marek, is a writer and executive director of the Anson Economic Development Partnership.
Fifty years ago this week, my mother and I attended a basketball game at the high school gym in my hometown of Port Clinton. Of itself, that wasn’t an especially noteworthy event; mom was a big sports fan, and we regularly went to high school football and basketball games, often with my Aunt Marge and Uncle Junior. This game was different, though, because it didn’t feature high school teams. It was a contest between Port Clinton City Schools faculty and the Cincinnati Bengals. Yes, the football team.
In those days, it was common for NFL teams to promote themselves during the offseason by barnstorming local high schools and civic centers and playing teams made up of hometown “celebrities” to benefit charity. The slightly unusual thing was that the Bengals weren’t precisely the local team. For those not intimately acquainted with Ohio’s geography, Port Clinton is Browns territory, about 90 minutes from Cleveland but almost four hours from Cincinnati. Detroit and Pittsburgh, two other NFL cities, are actually closer. I suspect the Bengals, who had entered the NFL just three years earlier, were trying to build a fan base throughout the state.
I do not recall which Bengals players were there that night – indeed, I only recall the game was played either on or very close to St. Patrick’s Day because my mother and I had a disagreement about the propriety of wearing a “leprechaun” hat I had made from construction paper at school – but an inquiry posted to my high school alumni Facebook page says several “big names,” including quarterback Virgil Carter and tight end Bob Trumpy, might have played.
No one seems to remember what charity was involved, but there was a drive to raise money for a high school girl who needed a kidney transplant around the same time, so that might have been it. I’d be lying if I said I recall much about the game itself other than it had a Globetrotter feel, with the faculty playing the role of the Washington Generals and a handful of set plays by the Bengals that made the audience go “ohhhhhh.” It was a good time, but I think it would have been even better if my mother had let me wear my leprechaun hat.
I also learned from the alumni page this wasn’t the only time the Bengals played at PCHS. Apparently, they came back every few years up through the mid-80s. I’m not sure how I missed that. The only other event like it I attended was a professional wrestling match my senior year. My mother was the sports fan in the family, but my dad preferred pro wrestling, or more accurately, rasslin’. Every Saturday night in the early ’70s, we would gather around the television and watch the National Wrestling Federation. Dad was always careful to acknowledge “it’s all fake” before cheering maniacally for Johnny Powers against such foes as The Sheik, Wrestler X and Haystacks Calhoun. By the time the NWF rolled into Port Clinton in 1980, though, I hadn’t watched the show for years, and the wrestlers on the card meant nothing to me. I went with my buddy Jeff and his younger brother, who was a big fan of one of them, though, and afterward we stood in line to get his autograph. Jeff, never one to miss an opportunity for sarcasm, asked the referee to sign his program.
I sometimes use the phrase “it was a simpler time” ironically in my writing, but in this case, it’s legitimate. Can you imagine Teddy Bridgewater, Christian McCaffrey and Shaq Thompson showing up at your high school to play basketball with the faculty? I know these players make “appearances,” but that’s not the same thing. A couple of years ago, Cam Newton visited Wadesboro schools as part of the Play 60 campaign. He was great, don’t get me wrong, but the security detail that preceded and accompanied him would have been overkill for the pope.
Those star players for the Bengals in 1971 likely earned what a good lawyer or accountant of the time did; a nice living, but not millions and millions of dollars. The team probably paid them a couple of hundred bucks for the promotional appearance. They were probably glad to have it. Although I can’t say for sure, I wouldn’t be surprised if they stopped by Bell’s for a beer and a slice before hopping back in the van for the long drive home. Wouldn’t that be something; professional athletes who are real people, not icons, brands and corporate entities?