The Continental League’s brush with Birmingham

As much as I pride myself on having a pretty good memory when it comes to Birmingham sports history, details sometimes get fuzzy.

Scott Adamson writes about alternative pro football leagues because it makes him happy, Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

For example, back in the late 1960s or early 1970s, my dad took me to the local YMCA to see a semi-pro football game. The home team, I think, was called either the Birmingham (or possibly Fairfield) Steelers, and the opposition was a club from Kenner City, Louisiana.

We arrived early to watch warm-ups, and I got to see the Steelers stretch and run and pitch and catch. If I recall, they were decked out in orange jerseys and plain white helmets.

What I didn’t get to see was the other team.

The Kenner City Whatevers were no-shows, and there was no explanation why.

Roughly a half hour after the scheduled kickoff, the public address announcer let the crowd (30 people, tops) know that the game had been canceled due to unforeseen circumstances.

I never found out what happened to those guys, but I hope they’re OK.

Anyway, while searching through old news archives to see if there was any information about the game that never was (unsurprisingly, I found none), I stumbled across something much more interesting.

Seems Birmingham – very briefly – had a club in the late, great Continental Football League back in 1969 when the Huntsville-based Alabama Hawks decided to relocate.

Known as the COFL to differentiate it from the Canadian Football League (CFL), this circuit lasted from 1965 through 1969. Formed by a combination of clubs from the existing Atlantic Coast Football League and recently folded United Football League, it originally set its sights on joining the NFL and AFL at the top of the pro food chain.

“This will not be a minor league, this will be a major league,” Alex Schoenbaum, owner of the Charleston, West Virginia, franchise, told the Associated Press in February, 1965. “Ours will be a league stretching from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. We are throwing away salary restrictions and plan to go big time all the way.

“We are dealing with men able to finance big budgets, such as those in the National and American leagues. We’ll bid for top player talent. We’ll go for big crowds and national television.”

That didn’t happen, of course, so by 1966 COFL officials were angling to make it the next best league outside the NFL and AFL and develop working relationship with the big leagues.

Such arrangements had already proved successful for the ACFL, which was formed in 1963 and became what you might call a “major” minor league, even after four of its charter franchises (Newark, Richmond, Springfield and Hartford) defected to the new organization.

As for the Hawks, they were founded in 1963 and competed in three other minor leagues before making the Continental move in 1968.

As a member of the Professional Football League of America in 1967, they became one of five PFLA teams to develop an official deal with the NFL, serving as a farm club for the Atlanta Falcons.

Two years later – its second in the COFL – Alabama made a bit of history when it hosted a team made up primarily of Atlanta rookies. The Hawks’ 55-0 loss to the Falcons on August 2, 1969, played before 9,300 fans at Milton Frank Stadium, is the last time a team playing under the NFL banner squared off against minor league competition.

But the big crowd for the exhibition was an anomaly. Alabama had trouble putting fans in the stands, so midway through the season general manager Earl Dotson announced that the team was moving two of its final three scheduled home games to Birmingham. The other would be played in Orlando, where the Panthers always drew well at the Tangerine Bowl.

“We had hoped to retain the franchise in North Alabama but there seems to be no one interested in football here,” Dotson told the Associated Press in a story that appeared on October 12, 1969.

Although the team still practiced in Huntsville and never formally changed its identity, the Hawks made their Magic City debut on October 25 with a 21-7 victory over the Arkansas Diamonds at Fair Park.

However, only 1,661 people showed up for the game.

They tried once more to woo Birmingham fans on November 8 when they hosted the Omaha Mustangs. The home team came away with an impressive 32-10 win, but a crowd of 2,004 was underwhelming.

Turns out, that was the final Continental Football League game ever played in the state of Alabama. (For the record, the Hawks finished 6-6 and missed the playoffs).

By the summer of 1970 the league had fallen apart, with some teams folding outright and others moving back to the ACFL. In August the COFL suspended operations with the promise to return, but since operations remain suspended 49 years later, that return appears unlikely.

By 1969 football consumed most of my thoughts, and the fact that I don’t remember Birmingham kinda/sorta had a COFL team part of that year makes me disappointed in myself.

Then again, if I can’t recall the name of a team I actually went to see (was it the Birmingham or Fairfield Steelers?), maybe I should give myself a break.

Lights, camera, Americans

It’s Thursday, August 29, 2019, so I know a lot of you are sitting around wondering what the biggest sports story was on this day in 1974.

Scott Adamson writes about alternative pro football leagues because it makes him happy, Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

I’m just joshing – none of you were wondering that.

But now some of you might be, and before you can consult the sports desk calendar you got for Christmas, I’ll tell you what some people think was the big news.

On this date 45 years ago, 19-year-old Moses Malone became the first player to go directly from high school to major professional basketball when he signed with the Utah Stars of the American Basketball Association.

Granted, that was a pretty big deal.

For me, however, that news was secondary to an event that would take place beginning at 8 o’clock that night. That was the time and Chicago was the place the Birmingham Americans became the first pro football team from Alabama to appear on national television.

And I was pumped.

If you’ve ever read me, met me or been forced to sit next to me on a plane, you know that I have great affection for the World Football League and, especially, its franchises in the Magic City.

The WFL is as vivid to me now as it was when I was a kid, and when you’re a kid who has recently been gifted with a pro team to call your own, you soak in everything about it.

The WFL featured colorful uniforms (Southern Cal wore magenta and orange), cool nicknames (the Portland Storm and Detroit Wheels) and innovative rules (touchdowns were worth seven points and the “action point” replaced the PAT).

But it also had a television contract with TVS Sports, meaning the league would be broadcast nationally – or at least to markets that opted to carry the independent network. TVS covered 80 percent of the nation and had almost 100 stations on board.

The WFL scheduled most of its games on Wednesday nights, but the TVS telecasts were all on Thursdays with Merle Harmon providing play-by-play and Alex Hawkins doing color.

Finally – eight weeks into the season – it was Birmingham’s chance to shine on the national stage.

The Americans had already played seven games and won them all, and leading up to their trip to the Windy City I witnessed them beat Southern Cal, Memphis and Detroit in person at Legion Field.

But back in the 1970s there was still something special about televised games, and getting to watch “my” team take on the Chicago Fire at historic Soldier Field was a source of pride and cause for genuine excitement. It was also the first opportunity I’d have to see Birmingham wearing blue jerseys; one of the WFL’s gimmicks was that most teams wore white at home.

With my dad in his usual lounge chair perch and me sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV – armed with a large bowl of popcorn and youthful enthusiasm – this was my version of must-see TV.

It sounds silly now, especially considering the number of great televised sporting events I’ve seen in my lifetime, but this week eight showdown from a fledgling (and as we’d soon learn, flailing) league still stands out.

Former NFL standout Alex Karras (who, at the time, was riding high from his star turn as Mongo in 1974’s “Blazing Saddles”) joined Harmon and Hawkins in the booth, and all three had plenty of good things to say about the Ams. Birmingham was the only team in the league that had an unblemished record, and was generally considered the team to beat. Apparently Chicago fans were impressed, too, since the Fire’s largest crowd of the season – 44,732 – came to watch.

For the record Birmingham won, 22-8, getting rushing touchdowns from Jimmy Edwards and Art Cantrelle and a George Mira to Paul Robinson scoring toss.

The Americans never trailed but I never got too comfortable, either, since they led just 14-8 lead heading into the fourth quarter.

But this was a team that had built its reputation on surviving close calls, and in their national TV debut they came away with an 8-0 record and two game lead over both Chicago and Memphis in the Central Division.

While they didn’t have the same “wow” effect as the first time, Birmingham appeared on national TV twice more that season, with both games beaming live from Legion Field. The Americans beat Shreveport, 42-14, on September 19, and edged the Florida Blazers, 22-21, in the World Bowl (the WFL championship game) on December 5. That contest was the last for the Ams; the franchise folded and was replaced by the Birmingham Vulcans in the league’s ill-fated 1975 reboot.

For many the WFL is long forgotten, if it’s even remembered at all. Malone’s signing with Utah, on the other hand, was a seminal moment in professional sports.

So if you want to tell me his $3 million contract with the ABA was the biggest sports story of August 29, 1974, I can’t argue with you.

But as someone who still pines for the Birmingham Americans, I can’t agree with you, either.

When the humans are away, the critters will play (and talk)

Having two dogs and two cats share my world means that my world is often in a state of chaos.

Scott Adamson’s humor column appears when he feels humorous.

Steve Rogers, the Chihuahua, spends an inordinate amount of time menacing Thor, our jittery ginger tabby.

Bane, our full-figured, fluffy gray tabby, enjoys dining on anything wicker or leather and violating my personal space whenever possible.

And Charlie, our Sheltie, tries to steer clear of it all because he’s a dog of peace.

A lot of times when Mary and I leave the house for lunch or to run errands we’re exiting what appears to be a petting zoo gone wild, and I admit it’s nice to have just a little bit of “us” time.

Invariably, though, when we get back home all the critters are nice and calm, causing me to wonder what they’ve done – and what they talked about – while we were gone.

A typical weekend day sees us head out for the afternoon, and I kiss them all on their heads and tell them I love them. I also leave one in charge because I like to show I trust them with responsibility.

As I get in the car I glance up at the window and Steve – standing on a stool in the den with his front paws on the window sill – is looking out at me.

Then we drive away, and out of sight.

Here’s what I think happens once we’re gone …

“OK, they just rounded the corner,” says Steve, his tail wagging furiously. “Man, I hope that lady comes back with chicken. I love chicken. Chicken is a thing that I can eat any time and every time. You like chicken don’t you, Charlie, huh? Huh? Huh?

Charlie stretches out on the hardwood floor and sighs.

“Yes,” he says. “I like chicken.”

Steve continues looking out the window and wagging.

“Hey, Bane,” Steve says, “Do you remember that time that lady left the chicken in her purse and you knocked the purse over and all that delicious chicken fell on the floor?”

Bane, chewing on the edge of a wicker trunk, looks up briefly.

“Indeed,” he says.

Steve jumps down and heads toward Bane. He bites the cat’s ear but is swatted half-heartedly.

“Me and Charlie made quick work of that chicken, didn’t we?” Steve says. “I think you got some, too, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Bane says. “Now leave me alone for a while. I’m trying to destroy this trunk.”

Thor then creeps out of the bedroom, looks at Steve and switches his tail.

“I hate you, you little bastard,” says Thor, immediately retreating.

Steve laughs.

“C’mon, T,” Steve says. “You’re a cat, I’m a dog … it’s like the circle of life from that movie.”

“What movie?” Thor asks.

“You know, that circle of life movie,” Steve says. “Escape from New York.”

Bane, who has now completely removed a corner from the wicker trunk, shakes his head.

The Lion King,” he says.

“What?” Steve asks.

“The circle of life reference is from The Lion King,” Bane explains. “It’s a song by Sir Elton John. Escape From New York is a John Carpenter film set in a dystopian America, circa 1999.”

Steve looks confused.

“Yeah, I don’t know nothing about no circus in 1999,” Steve says. “I’m just trying to explain to my orange friend that fightin’ and feudin’ is what we’re designed to do. We’re like those famous families that fought all the time – I think their names were Cagney and Lacey.”

Bane rolls his eyes.

“The Hatfields and McCoys,” Bane says. “That’s who you’re talking about.”

“Were they in Escape from New York?” Steve asks.

Before Bane could swat him, Steve senses movement outside and retakes his spot on the stool. Once in position, he notices a man and woman walking a small dog on the sidewalk.

“Hey!” he barks. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Get the hell out of here with that vermin. I swear I’ll jump through this window and jack all your asses up. ALL. YOUR. ASSES. UP! “Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Charlie chews his butt briefly, looks up at Steve, and says, “You make me nervous with your noise. Please don’t make any more noise.”

Thor mews slightly as he walks away, muttering, “I hate you, you little bastard,” under his breath.

After the danger passes – meaning after the man, woman and dog pass – Steve starts talking about chicken again.

I figure this goes on for roughly another hour, and then they sleep for, oh, a good two hours.

Steve – now on the futon with Bane and Thor while Charlie continues to snooze on the floor – perks up when he hears our car doors close.

We’re home.

“Be cool, guys,” he says. “They’re back. I just hope that lady has some chicken. Me and you like chicken, don’t we Charlie? Huh? Huh? Huh?”