The Continental League Stars

Anyone familiar with my World Football League obsession knows that in 1974 I cheered for the Birmingham Americans because they were my hometown team.

I also had a soft spot for the Southern California Sun; any club that wears magenta jerseys and orange pants is worthy of my respect and admiration.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

But I also had more than a passing interest in the New York Stars, because they had a few former New York Jets on their team and the Jets were my favorite NFL franchise.

But did you know that eight years earlier a different version of the New York Stars was supposed to debut in the Continental Football League?

Not only that, they were set to play at little Downing Stadium, which was the poorly-lit, Randalls Island home of the WFL Stars.

Here’s the scoop:

The Continental Football League was formed in 1965 with visions of becoming a third major league. But its inaugural season featured the Charleston (West Virginia) Rockets, Ft. Wayne Warriors, Hartford Charter Oaks, Newark Bears, Philadelphia Bulldogs, Providence (Rhode Island) Indians, Richmond Rebels, Springfield (Massachusetts) Acorns, Toronto Rifles and Wheeling (West Virginia) Ironmen. Aside from Philadelphia and Toronto, the COFL wasn’t located in major North American media markets.

A New York franchise would be a game changer, and on February 11, 1966, the league granted one to theater and television producer Fred Finklehoffe.

“I consider pro football one of the most interesting aspects of show business,” Finklehoffe told the Associated Press. “I consider this an off-Broadway football team. I hope to make Broadway soon.”

The stadium at Randalls Island was chosen because it seated 21,000 and there were plans to add an additional 4,000 seats.

Considering his industry ties, giving the team the nickname “Stars” made perfect sense. Finklehoffe, along with writing partner Irving Brecher, had been nominated for an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay for Meet Me in St. Louis, and he’d also penned a pair of scripts for Dean Martin/Jerry Lewis comedies.

He was a big name who owned a team representing the Big Apple, and he started making news almost immediately. In March he signed coach Perry Moss away from Charleston, reportedly inking him to a 10-year, $500,000 contract that included the role of general manager. Moss led the Rockets to 14 consecutive victories and the inaugural COFL title in 1965.

In an interview with The Gazette (Montreal) on April 2, 1966, Moss predicted the Continental Football League would soon threaten the Canadian Football League.

“Our league is not only going to become the main football attraction in Montreal and Toronto, but it won’t be long before Vancouver joins us,” Moss told the paper. “Make no mistake about it … the Continental League will become the third major professional league in America. There’s an untapped television market and we’re going to share it. A dozen or more cities, with big area populations, are potential team outlets.

“There’s no shortage of good players coming out of U.S. colleges each year. The AFL and NFL can absorb only a limited number.”

Apparently unbeknownst to Moss, however, Finklehoffe exited the stage on the day he was interviewed by The Gazette.

After purchasing the franchise for $250,000, he sold it back to the league “because of motion picture commitments.”

Still, COFL officials announced that two other groups were bidding on the team and New York was sure to have a franchise by the start of the season, even if it wasn’t called the Stars.

That team came in the form of the Brooklyn Dodgers, who made their home on Randalls Island (a 40-minute subway ride from Brooklyn). And instead of Moss – who wound up in charge of the Orlando Panthers – the Dodgers named former New York Giants/Los Angeles Rams standout Andy Robustelli head coach.

Despite hiring baseball legend Jackie Robinson as a figurehead general manager, the team never developed a significant fan base and became a “road club” late in the season, finishing 5-9.

The Dodgers moved to Akron in 1967 and were rebranded the Vulcans, and the Continental League – which folded after the 1969 season – never became a major league and never again had a team in Gotham.

Thus, football fans in the City That Never Sleeps had to wait until 1974 before being able to cheer for the New York Stars.

But you wanna hear something weird?

The last game New York’s COFL team played at Downing Stadium was September 24, 1966, in front of 4,519 fans.

The last game its WFL team played there before moving to Charlotte was on September 24, 1974 – in front of 4,220 fans. That might not be good enough to qualify for a new edition of Strange But True Football Stories, but I think it’s a pretty good way to end this column.

Frozen food rage

You often hear stories about people who experience “road rage,” thereby turning a frustrating driving situation into something scary and dangerous. I sometimes get aggravated and angry when I’m behind the wheel, too, but usually after screaming, “rectum!” and speeding away, I’m fine.

What I wonder, though, is why there aren’t more incidents of “frozen food aisle rage.” In my experience – and I’ve been charting this for a while – customers who peruse this part of a supermarket are often the rudest of them all. And that can make customers like me rather … well … testy.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

Sure, there’ll be traffic jams on any aisle, especially during busy times of the day. And I understand we sometimes have a tough decision to make between Kraft Easy Mac Noodle and Kraft Original Macaroni & Cheese.

Apparently, though, frozen foods lead to frozen brains.

Yesterday, for example, I decided I wanted some waffles. (I’d just seen Stranger Things 4 and there was a scene where a delicious plate of Eggos had been prepared). So, after loading up my cart with non-perishables, I made my way to frozen foods.

As is often the case, there was someone standing right where I needed to be. That’s fine … like me, the dude was getting waffles, so it really shouldn’t have taken long.

Shouldn’t, but did.

I realize there are different flavors of Eggo, and there are also different size boxes. (Personally, I always go for the 24-pack of homestyle). This guy, though … he’s holding the door open with his right hand and rubbing his chin with his left. Is he trying to decide between homestyle and buttermilk?

Could he be looking at another brand, maybe one of those gluten-free healthier choices that includes freeze-dried blueberries?

Then again, maybe he’s decided to just live like he’s dying and buy some of those big-ass Belgian waffles.

But you know what? You should have all this settled before you ever get to Waffleville. I mean, you’re just buying some frozen enriched flour – you’re not purchasing a car.

By now I’m standing behind him, waiting for him to move just a smidge so I can grab my Eggos and get the hell out of there. Then he starts shifting from side-to-side, making it impossible to go around him without infringing on his and my personal space.

The longer it took, the madder I got.

My first thought was to shove him into the freezer and close the door.

Then I imagined moving all the way to the other end of the aisle and charging toward him with my buggy, crashing into him with such force he goes airborne and flies into one of the registers.

My hatred for this wanker was deep – and growing deeper by the second..

Fortunately for him, he eventually grabbed a 24-pack of Eggo buttermilk, threw them in his cart, and wandered away as I muttered obscenities under my breath. I then made a note to pass on to the store manager suggesting that anyone who lingers in front of frozen waffles for longer than 90 seconds should be banned from the store.

Anyway, I got my supply of homestyle but then remembered I needed to pick up a bag of frozen mixed vegetables because we use those in our soup.

As I neared the destination, there was an older women parked in front of the veggies. And when I say older, I mean ancient – possibly born before time as we know it even existed. It’s not hyperbole to say she looked like a mummy wearing a bucket hat. And she didn’t move … she just kinda gazed through the freezer door.

I’ve always prided myself on showing respect for my elders, and back in my younger days I would’ve stood back patiently while she contemplated the frozen okra versus frozen broccoli conundrum. And when it was done, I’d even help her back into her tomb.

But I knew exactly where the mixed vegetables were, and fearing she might have actually died standing in place, I just slid between her and the veggies, reached in and snatched the bag, and took off.

I’m old now, too, so I feel I’ve earned the right.

Of course, these are hardly isolated incidents. You’ll often find people staring – mouth agape – right in front of the ice cream case.

And folks trying to make the proper call on a frozen dinner never appear to be in much of a rush, either.

About the only crowd-free place at my supermarket is the area that features the veggie dogs and plant-based foods. As a vegetarian it serves as my happy place, and allows me to tamp down my frozen food aisle rage while I stand alone in the land of soy.

Yes, it’s ridiculous to lose my cool because of the indecision of fellow shoppers. There are far more important things to get upset about in this world. Still, sometimes it just builds up.

So, if you ever go in search of frozen food and see some short guy with glasses running through the store holding a box of waffles and screaming, “rectum!” chances are it’s me.

Lou Saban and the USFA

With the National Spring Football League over before it even started in 1990 – and the World League of American Football a few months from kickoff – the battle to fill the spring football void should’ve been over.

It wasn’t.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

Before anyone could ask, “What was the NSFL, again?” the United States Football Association entered the picture. On October 8, 1990, it was reported that the USFA would hold a news conference in Portland on October 10 to announce the Oregon city as the first member of the new league. Dick Seuss, coach of the Oregon Thunderbolts semi-pro team, was leading the Portland effort.

“I was in on the first two or three United States Football League meetings, and I think their thoughts at the time were absolutely correct,” USFA commissioner Lou Saban told The World newspaper. “We think spring football can work. Our people have learned from what happened with the USFL. We know that we’re only as strong as our weakest link.”

Saban, of course, was already well-established in the football world, having coached in the NFL, American Football League and college ranks, and earning back-to-back AFL Coach of the Year nods while guiding the Buffalo Bills in 1964 and 1965. By the time the 68-year-old assumed his USFA duties, he had held 15 different coaching posts. The last was a four-game stint with a Minor League Football System team in Georgia (the Middle Georgia Heat Wave) and the three previous to that were at the high school level.

He had developed a reputation for abruptly quitting jobs, leaving the Bills twice.

But this was a new gig and new adventure, and he hoped he could help the upstart circuit cull the best parts of the USFL.

“We’re trying to borrow from the USFL name as close as possible,” he said. “We’re still trying to establish a financial foundation. We’re still in the preliminary stage. I think within the next week or so, we’ll have a platform to work from.”

Original plans called for eight to 10 teams to play a March through early July schedule. The first franchises announced were the Portland Predators and Tampa Bay Bandits, and Saban said the league had contacted potential investors in Jacksonville, Miami, Mobile, Salt Lake City, Norfolk, Sacramento, Oakland, Fresno and Scranton.

Jim Spavital, who was coach of the World Football League’s Chicago Fire and general manager of the USFL’s Michigan Panthers, was supposed to help put together the Tampa Bay entry.

The player pool would be made up of athletes “not quite good enough for the National Football League,” Saban said.

Portland set up tryouts for October 21, and two weeks later, Tampa held its camp with Saban on hand to observe.

“I’ve been involved in football tryouts every year that I can remember for a long time,” Saban told the Tampa Tribune. “I just went through a tryout in Macon where we had 150 guys in the first camp, 100 the second and 125 in the third, and I can tell you they don’t fool you too many times.

“Usually, they can look at the guys running the 40 and doing chin-ups and know right away whether or not they’ve got a chance.”

I have no idea how any of the hopefuls fared in those events.

In fact, I don’t know much of anything involving the USFA after its initial announcement and news of the Oregon and Florida tryouts. Like many other leagues that exist only in theory, it just disappeared.

In February, 1991, Saban announced he was interested in becoming the athletic director at the University of Miami, where he coached from 1977-78. But just a couple of months later he was back coaching, this time at NAIA Division II Peru State in Nebraska. Every story I could find mentioned his job history – sometimes in great detail – but none referenced the United States Football Association or its would-be commissioner.

So we’ll never know what kind of cool rules the USFA would’ve come up with, whether it could’ve snagged a TV contract, and how it would’ve fared trying to occupy the same space as the WLAF. And that’s a shame, because I’ve always felt the rivalry between the Portland Predators and Tampa Bay Bandits could’ve been one of the best in all of sports – at least until the league folded.