Author: Alex Coffey

  • The Eagles’ success has been riding on the defense this year. The 1991 team remembers what that’s like.

    The Eagles’ success has been riding on the defense this year. The 1991 team remembers what that’s like.

    Mike Golic still remembers standing on the sideline when quarterback Randall Cunningham fell to the grass at Lambeau Field. It was Game 1 of the 1991 Eagles season. In the second quarter, Packers linebacker Bryce Paup lunged at Cunningham’s knees.

    The trainers rushed to his side. Golic and his defensive teammates were stunned. This was supposed to be their year. Now, as Cunningham rolled on his back in agony, that seemed less likely.

    With Cunningham out for the season, the Eagles cycled through a litany of quarterbacks in 1991. It gave the defense virtually no room for error — but instead of faltering, it rose to the occasion.

    The Eagles could not rely on quarterback Randall Cunningham in 1991, after Cunningham suffered a season-ending injury in Week 1.

    Over the next 16 games, the group put together one of the best defensive seasons in NFL history — if not the best — surrendering the fewest passing yards and rushing yards along with the lowest completion percentage in the NFL that season.

    “I know that group all too well,” analyst Troy Aikman said on Monday Night Football on Dec. 8. “Because I played against them. Number one against the run. Number one against the pass. I could name the roster for you, on the defensive side of the ball.”

    The 1991 Eagles recorded the most sacks in the league (55) and ranked third in interceptions (26). They allowed an average of 15.3 points per game.

    “We knew that we were going to go as far as the defense could carry us,” linebacker Seth Joyner recalled in late November. “And that just turned the intensity up.”

    The current Eagles defense is not in quite the same predicament. Their quarterback is healthy. Nevertheless, through 14 games, Jalen Hurts’ offense has not performed relative to its talent level.

    And while the 2025 defense has not been as consistent as the 1991 group, it has shown flashes of the same caliber of dominance, particularly since the bye week.

    If the Eagles have any hopes of returning to the Super Bowl, such a run would likely have to involve an elite defense. With that being said, here is what three members of Gang Green — Joyner, Golic, and Clyde Simmons — are seeing from Vic Fangio’s group.

    Buddy Ryan was gone by 1991, but his stamp was still all over the Eagles defense.

    Aggressiveness

    Buddy Ryan, the defensive guru who coached the Eagles from 1986-90, had a mantra: “Score on defense.”

    This meant pitching the ball from player to player if you got an interception. Or, if you got a fumble, trying to scoop and score instead of falling on the ball. Or, if you didn’t score, giving the offense a shorter field.

    Ryan’s philosophy wasn’t just about preventing a team from scoring; it was about putting that team’s offense on the defensive.

    That carried over to the 1991 team, even after Ryan was fired following the 1990 season. The 1991 defense, coached by coordinator Bud Carson, brought this concept to a new level.

    With Cunningham out, it was unlikely the Eagles would be scoring 20-30 points a game. So, the defensive players took it upon themselves to score — or, at a minimum, make things easier for the offense.

    Golic, a former defensive tackle who now hosts a show on FanDuel Sports Network, said this message was largely player-driven. It was always reiterated, either on the sidelines or in defensive meetings.

    “We played aggressively anyway, but we kind of even upped that,” Golic said in November. “And it wasn’t disparaging to the offense. It was just, like, ‘Listen, we don’t have our starting quarterback anymore. We know we do a lot on this team, but we know we now have to do more.’ So it was more of an up-tempo, upbeat, ‘Let’s do more. Let’s help out more.’”

    Added Simmons, a dominant defensive end: ”We’d always prided ourselves with being a really good defense, but we knew we had to be even better to win ballgames. It started really getting tightened down. Just try to be sure to give ourselves all the opportunities in the world to win ballgames, keep people off the scoreboard, and keep the yardage down.”

    Golic and Joyner see a similar aggression in the Eagles’ current group — both in the play-calling and in the players. This has been especially true with the addition of Jaelan Phillips, the return of Brandon Graham, and Nakobe Dean playing above expectations after returning from a serious knee injury.

    Bud Carson (with star cornerback Eric Allen) coordinated a unit that finished No. 1 against the run and the pass in 1991.

    It has freed up the pass rush, allowing Fangio to be more unpredictable — a Ryan/Carson staple. Fangio isn’t blitzing as much as those teams, but he is mixing in different looks. One example is that he favors a simulated pressure in which at least one linebacker rushes and one lineman drops into coverage.

    “Bud Carson as the D coordinator, he was a very aggressive coordinator, and certainly Vic’s a very aggressive coordinator,” Golic said. “And players love playing aggressively. You’d rather be attacking than reacting. So that’s probably the biggest comparison.

    “I mean, obviously I’m biased toward my 1991 team. The stats were ridiculous. But I would say overall, yeah, the aggressiveness of the two units would be comparable.”

    He added: “A lot of it is just trusting the person next to you, behind you, in the secondary, and them trusting us up front that we’re going to get there. Players know when they’re going to be on an island and understand that and accept the responsibilities of it. And coaches like Fangio and Bud Carson certainly weren’t afraid to be aggressive and put people on islands.”

    Those who witnessed both play see similarities between current Eagle Jalen Carter and the legendary Jerome Brown (99).

    Players who would fit on Gang Green

    There was only one player whose name came up repeatedly as example of someone who evoked the 1991 team — and it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

    The family of Jerome Brown said in March that they see some of the late Eagles defensive tackle in current Eagles DT Jalen Carter, who has been sidelined the past two weeks with shoulder injuries. To the 1991 Eagles, the comparisons are obvious.

    Simmons, the defensive line coach at Bowling Green, doesn’t have much time to keep tabs on the Eagles. But even in the limited games he has watched, Carter has stood out.

    “I know they’ve got a couple good players in there, like a Jalen Carter, who is such a big man, and so explosive, and a game-controlling guy,” Simmons said last month. “He’s special. You don’t see a lot of people that big, who are that explosive.”

    “He plays on the other side of the line [of scrimmage],” Golic added. “I mean, he just plays with leverage, with strength. You know, and the ends were bigger at that point. Reggie [White] was 315 pounds, Clyde was 290 pounds, Jerome was 300, I was in the 280s, 290, so was Mike Pitts.

    “Jalen [Carter] is a 300-pounder who is quick off the ball and plays on the other side of the line. That’s what we always did. We always played on the other side of the line. And he would have, jeez … I mean, put him on that line, with Jerome [Brown] in the middle, would have been ridiculous.

    “If there’s one player on that defense that would have fit in our defense, it definitely would have been Jalen [Carter].”

    Clyde Simmons (96) draws comparisons to current Eagle Jaelan Phillips.

    Joyner, a former linebacker who hosts pregame and postgame Eagles shows on YouTube, made a different comparison. In Phillips, he saw a bit of Simmons — a multifaceted player who could run different formations and be put in different spots.

    “I probably would have to compare him to Clyde,” Joyner said of Phillips. “I definitely wouldn’t compare him to Reggie [White, a Hall of Famer] because there’s just no comparison to that guy. But I think when you when you think about Clyde, especially under Buddy … because under Buddy, we ran a little bit of everything. We ran 30 front and 40 front, unders, overs, swim package, with all three linebackers off the ball in an even front. We ran a little bit of everything.

    “And in the 30 front, Clyde was pretty much the weakside outside linebacker. Like, we could line up in a four-man front, quarterback getting his cadence. We could shift to a 30 front, Clyde would kick his hand off the ground, and stand up as an outside linebacker. And sometimes even drop into coverage, believe it or not.

    “Those are some of the intangibles that Jaelan Phillips brings to the table. Because like I said, I was shocked to see Vic actually drop him off in coverage out of that five-man front [against the Lions]. And in some of the zone blitzes where you brought a linebacker from the other side and you dropped him off into the flat. He brings a versatility.”

    “It’s definitely possible” for the Eagles to win back-to-back, titles, ex-Eagles defensive tackle Mike Golic says.

    A Super Bowl-caliber defense

    All three former players looked at the 1991 season as a lost opportunity. They believe that if Cunningham had stayed healthy, they could have won a Super Bowl.

    Instead, the 1991 Eagles went 10-6 and didn’t make the playoffs. But these Eagles are in a different spot, which leads Simmons, Joyner, and Golic to believe the outcome could be better for them.

    Joyner sees the same confidence in the 2025 group that the 1991 group had. Golic sees it, too.

    Now, it’s a matter of play-calling and playing with the same confidence on the offensive side of the ball.

    “It’s definitely possible [for them to go back-to-back],” Golic said. “Listen, the offense, it’s tough to duplicate. The [offensive] line has not been what it was last year. They still run more than they pass. They still try and live off the run. But you can never negate a great defense. What a great defense will do will always keep you in the game, always.

    “So you look at some of the top defenses, like Denver, like Houston, Philly, certainly is one of them, you’re always going to be in the game. And then you just need the offense to produce some. And certainly the Eagles offense has the ability to [do that].

    “Statistically, they’re not what they were last year, but they have the ability to show it. But when you have a really good defense, you’re going to be in every game.”

  • TGI Fridays on City Avenue was a longtime Sixers hangout. Then Allen Iverson made it one of Philly’s hottest ‘clubs.’

    TGI Fridays on City Avenue was a longtime Sixers hangout. Then Allen Iverson made it one of Philly’s hottest ‘clubs.’

    In July 2024, Tim Hampton was working his shift at TGI Fridays when he spotted a familiar face.

    It was longtime Sixers player and coach Billy Cunningham. He was eating lunch with La Salle coach Fran Dunphy and two other Sixers alumni: former forward and coach Doug Collins, and former executive John Nash.

    Hampton smiled. Seeing the group brought back memories. There was a time, not long ago, when the chain restaurant on City Avenue hosted everyone from Charles Barkley to Maurice Cheeks to Moses Malone.

    This particular Fridays, which opened in 1981, was down the street from where the Sixers practiced, first at St. Joseph’s, and eventually, at Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine. It became the team’s unofficial hangout spot, a place where they could grab meals in the afternoon or dinner and drinks at night.

    By the late 1990s, when Hampton was hired as a host, it had a long list of NBA clientele. Then, a rambunctious rookie named Allen Iverson came to town, and everything changed.

    TGI Fridays was incorporated into Philadelphia’s nightlife scene. People called it “Club Fridays.” Women would wear their shortest dresses and their highest heels. Men would don collared shirts and expensive jeans.

    Allen Iverson’s famous booth became part of the City Avenue TGI Fridays lore.

    At the center of it all was Iverson, who had a designated booth — “Table 70” — a special back entrance, and his own security detail.

    “It was exactly like a club,” said former Sixers forward Jumaine Jones. “They would come there with their best outfit on, like they was going to a party.

    “We gave Allen the nickname Mick Jagger. Because he was like a rock star. People wanted to be around him.”

    There were nights when wait times lasted for hours. Fans would line up around the block, all the way to the bus stop on City Avenue and Presidential Boulevard, just to catch a glimpse of the superstar. Those who were lucky enough to enter would hand napkins to their servers in the hopes that Iverson would sign them.

    And most of the time, he did. Despite the chaos, Hampton said that Iverson treated the employees and patrons of TGI Fridays with respect. He became friendly with the general manager, Jeff Tretina, the kitchen manager, Jerry Shott, and the rest of the staff.

    When the point guard was traded to the Nuggets in 2006, the longstanding relationship between the Sixers and the chain restaurant faded. But Iverson never forgot it. And neither did his Fridays “family.”

    “He could’ve chosen anywhere else to go,” Hampton said, “but he chose us.”

    TGI Fridays manager Tim Hampton remembers a time when “Club Fridays” would produce lines around the block.

    ‘Club Fridays’

    Hampton grew up at 33rd and Diamond in North Philadelphia, raised on Dr. J and George McGinnis. He studied business administration at Burlington County College in New Jersey and started working at the restaurant in 1999.

    The lifelong Sixers fan climbed his way from a host to a waiter to a cook, and eventually, to a general manager. He quickly realized that this was no ordinary Fridays.

    Employees would share stories of Barkley, Darryl Dawkins, Bobby Jones, and more. Players who’d patronized the restaurant during their careers, like Cheeks, would return after they’d joined the Sixers’ coaching staff.

    A big part of this was convenience. Fridays was an easy place to stop after practice, and had plenty of parking for big groups.

    There also wasn’t as much of a social barrier between players and fans as there is now. This was true even among some of the team’s celebrities.

    While Allen Iverson gets much of the credit for launching the Sixers-Fridays legend, Charles Barkley was a loyal patron of the establishment first.

    Barkley and center Mike Gminski would go to the movies together in Philadelphia. They’d attend Phillies games and would sit out in the open, rather than a suite.

    Eating at a chain restaurant was not uncommon. And in the 1980s and 1990s, it looked a lot different from it did when Iverson was in town.

    There was no security at Fridays, no separate entrance, and no reserved table; just a group of extraordinarily tall men, squeezed into a four-person booth.

    “Pretty much everybody on the team used to go there or go somewhere,” Gminski said. “If anybody, it was probably Charlie [who went the most].

    “And after a while, it wasn’t really a thing seeing us. There were no cell phones. There were no pictures, no selfies.

    “We never really thought about shying away. We ate where everybody else ate.”

    Most of the players and staff would go to Fridays for lunch, and Bridget Foy’s in Society Hill for postgame drinks.

    It wasn’t until Iverson arrived in 1996 that Fridays turned into a nightly haunt. At first, people barely noticed he was there. Iverson would sit in his booth, eat his favorite dish — Cajun shrimp and chicken pasta — and lay low.

    Jumaine Jones, who was drafted by the Hawks in 1999 and traded to the Sixers shortly after, usually accompanied him. Iverson quickly gravitated to the small forward, loudly proclaiming that Jones was his “rookie.”

    Jumaine Jones (with fellow draft pick Todd MacCulloch and coach Larry Brown) was a familiar face at the City Line Fridays.

    They started hanging out off the court. Jones estimated that the two players went to Fridays “every day for two years.” Sometimes, he would go home to take a nap, and wake up a few hours later, only to realize that Iverson was still at the restaurant.

    “We probably spent more time at Fridays than we did at the gym,” Jones said.

    The rookie wasn’t complaining. If anything, it made Iverson seem more relatable.

    “I’d just come from being this broke college student,” he said. “So, to go to Fridays, it was like, ‘Oh, OK, that’s cool. He likes Fridays too!’

    “But it was funny that somebody who was making so much money liked Fridays. The fact that he didn’t change what he ate, and the things that he enjoyed doing, really made him human to me.”

    After the 2001 NBA Finals, when Iverson famously stepped over Lakers point guard Tyronn Lue, his celebrity grew to new heights. People started flocking to Fridays not to eat, but to see Iverson.

    The restaurant had to hire its own security for crowd management (in addition to Iverson’s detail). It changed its hours and staffing arrangements to accommodate the influx of people.

    “If it was a game day on a weekend, you pretty much figured he was coming,” said former manager Elan Walker. “We were closing at like 1 a.m. on weekends. So we were open late.

    “At most businesses your dinner is from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m., and you’re down to a skeleton crew by 10 o’clock. That wasn’t the case for us. We still had a full staff on at midnight. Because we were expecting a crowd.”

    Even though it was a foregone conclusion that Iverson would be at Fridays after a home game, he still liked to give the staff a heads up.

    So, he’d call the restaurant, or Tretina and Shott directly, to let them know he was coming.

    The point guard would roll up in his Rolls-Royce or his blue Bentley and step out with anyone from Jadakiss to Fat Joe.

    Allen Iverson’s magnetic presence helped make the City Line Fridays a destination.

    “You never knew who was going to be with A.I.,” said Jamilah Lawry, a friend of Iverson’s. “So that was really a huge element of surprise. Who does he have with him? Who’s going to get out of that car?

    “You didn’t know who was going to be in there. And you had to look good, because the man of your dreams could walk in. You know?”

    Lawry’s uncle, Jeff Lawry, owned Luxe Lounge and Club Roar at the time. Jamilah was familiar with Philadelphia nightlife.

    But to her, Fridays was the best of both worlds; a place where they could be themselves, in an exciting environment, without too many rules and regulations.

    “We’d watch the game, we’d talk loud,” she said. “We’d play too much. Those type of things. You know, you can’t go to Ocean Prime and do that. They’ll be like, ‘Hey, get out.’”

    “It was more of what we would call a Greek picnic type thing,” Lawry added. “There was nothing like Club Fridays. Except for Club McDonald’s on Broad Street. And that’s a whole other story.

    “If you didn’t want to go to the club, you’d go to Fridays, and that’s what would be going on.”

    TGI Fridays manager Tim Hampton is presiding over an establishment that might be undergoing a renaissance in the days ahead.

    ‘City Line Love’

    After Iverson retired in 2013, he rolled out a special-edition sneaker, in collaboration with Reebok and the Philadelphia-based retailer Ruvilla. It was called A Day in Philly.

    The tongue had a maroon and gray stripe along the top, as a nod to his favorite restaurant. He held the release party in November 2014 at TGI Fridays on City Avenue.

    The staff rolled a red carpet onto the sidewalk. Fifteen security guards roamed the grounds as police officers stood nearby.

    At one point, employees had to close the doors, because the restaurant had reached its occupancy level (475 people).

    Jadakiss and Styles P gave a surprise performance and a DJ held court after that. To Hampton, it felt like old times.

    “It was like a Renaissance moment,” he said. “I felt like I was part of history.”

    Now, over a decade later, he’s trying to recapture the magic. In November, Fridays’ corporate branch introduced a membership program called “Club Fridays,” that offers discounts and other perks.

    Hampton has asked Iverson if he’ll help the restaurant promote it. He has also reached out to a few current Sixers players to forge some new relationships.

    “We’re working on trying to get VJ Edgecombe and Tyrese Maxey to come here,” Hampton said. “Because we want to extend that City Line Love.

    “That’s our goal. To get the new Sixers in. We want them to know about the legendary 4000 City Line Avenue, because it is a legendary location.”

  • Inside the Big 5 coaching fraternity: From wanting to ‘kill each other’ to being ‘brothers’

    Inside the Big 5 coaching fraternity: From wanting to ‘kill each other’ to being ‘brothers’

    In March of 2013, La Salle pulled off the improbable. The Explorers hadn’t been to the NCAA Tournament since 1992. They hadn’t advanced past the Round of 64 since 1990.

    But here they were, on a chilly night in Kansas City, edging out Kansas State, 63-61, to earn a spot in the Round of 32.

    As players danced in the middle of the locker room, with the music blaring, an unlikely figure emerged.

    Donning a black suit with a blue dress shirt, the visitor walked through the chaos, straight to La Salle’s head coach, John Giannini.

    It was Jay Wright.

    His team had a game in a few hours, against North Carolina, but the Villanova head coach wanted to congratulate his dear friend.

    Former La Salle head coach John Giannini during a game against Butler on Jan. 23, 2013.

    “Once we got to the tournament, we were always rooting for each other,” Wright said of the Big 5 programs. “It was always about Philadelphia basketball.”

    This was the way he and his Big 5 counterparts had been taught. When Wright was an assistant at Villanova in the late 1980s and early 1990s, he watched as head coach Rollie Massimino battled with Temple’s John Chaney.

    The games were intense, and often heated, but they always showed each other respect. Sometimes, Big 5 coaches would go to dinner afterwards. It wasn’t uncommon for them to get together during the offseason.

    The coaches would celebrate each other’s wins, even though they were technically competitors. Every time Wright advanced in the NCAA Tournament, he’d get a call from Chaney.

    When Martelli reached the Elite Eight in 2004, he heard from Wright and longtime La Salle coach Speedy Morris.

    The men who preceded them practiced the same habits, from Temple’s Harry Litwack, to Villanova’s Al Severance, to St. Joseph’s Dr. Jack Ramsay.

    “The initial [Big 5] group was so together, and so tight, that when the rest of us joined, it was just the way it was done,” said Fran Dunphy, who spent a combined 33 seasons at the helm of Penn, Temple, and La Salle. “The culture was already set.”

    Former Big 5 coaches Phil Martelli, Steve Lappas, John Griffin, Speedy Morris, and Fran Dunphy.

    For former Big 5 coaches in the area, that culture is still intact. Martelli, Dunphy, and Wright remain good friends. They visit with Morris, and are in regular contact with other former colleagues, like Giannini, Steve Lappas, and John Griffin.

    The coaches believe this brotherhood is unique to Philadelphia, a city rich with basketball lore.

    “On the court, you wanted to kill each other,” Wright said, “and off the court you were like brothers.”

    A ‘different’ kind of bond

    Dunphy was born and raised in Drexel Hill, only a few years before the founding of the Big 5 in 1955.

    Back then, it was an association of five Division I schools: Villanova, Penn, St. Joe’s, Temple, and La Salle (Drexel was added in 2023).

    The future coach rooted for them all, without prejudice. He’d often spend his Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at the Palestra, watching Big 5 teams square off.

    “There were three nights of doubleheaders,” Dunphy said. “It was an amazing experience.”

    When he was hired as the head coach of Penn in 1989, Dunphy felt a deep sense of pride. He also felt respect for his peers, many of whom had toiled through the same high school and assistant coaching ranks.

    Their connections went far back. In 1976, when Wright was in the ninth grade, he attended a basketball camp in the Poconos. His camp counselor was a young Martelli.

    A few years later, Martelli coached his first high school game for Bishop Kenrick in Norristown, which closed in 2010. His opponent was Dunphy, who was leading Malvern Prep at the time.

    Morris and Chaney were introduced during their tenures at Roman Catholic and Simon Gratz in the late 1960s and 1970s. Lappas was an assistant at Villanova when Martelli assisted at St. Joe’s in the 1980s.

    All of this only fortified the “brotherhood.”

    Fran Dunphy spent a combined 33 seasons at the helm of Penn, Temple, and La Salle.

    “It was different than going to an ACC school or a Big Ten school or whatever the major conferences are,” Dunphy said. “Let’s say we went to Orlando for an AAU tournament. There might be three or four of us sitting together as Philly coaches, because that’s what we did. And we might be recruiting the same guy.

    “And there would be coaches from other leagues, and they’d say, ‘What are you guys doing?’ Well, that was just the way it was.”

    Added Martelli: “You never said, ‘I’m going to talk bad about this guy or that guy, just so we can get a recruit.’ Because you knew [the other coaches] weren’t doing it. So we were not going to do it.

    “People from the outside marveled at it. They’d say, ‘Seriously, this is what you guys do?’ And I’m like, ‘Yeah.’”

    Despite this unspoken pact, the coaches were not thrilled when a Big 5 rival would scoop up a promising player. Martelli, for example, was very frustrated when Dunphy earned local star Lavoy Allen’s commitment in late 2006.

    “I would say that in a complimentary way,” Martelli said. “I was like, ‘I can’t believe we didn’t get him. And to make matters worse, Temple got him. We’ve got to deal with him for four years?’”

    Even at the height of their competitive prowess, the coaches would band together for the betterment of the sport and the world around them. In 1996, Martelli and Dunphy started the Philadelphia chapter of Coaches Vs. Cancer, a nonprofit that raises awareness and funds for cancer research.

    They looped in their fellow Big 5 coaches: Lappas, Morris, Chaney and Bill Herrion (who was at Drexel). Not long after Wright was hired as head coach of Villanova in 2001, he accompanied Martelli and Dunphy to meet the CEO of Blue Cross/Blue Shield, Fred DiBona, for lunch in Center City.

    Former Big 5 coaches Phil Martelli and Fran Dunphy with their wives at a Coaches Vs. Cancer event.

    The insurance company offered them $50,000, and became the group’s first corporate sponsor. That donation helped lift the chapter off the ground.

    “The three of us were really competing against each other, right then,” Wright said. “And we all went together during basketball season, up to his office, and got that thing spearheaded.”

    Wright, Martelli, and Dunphy are still very involved with Coaches vs. Cancer. The Philly chapter has since become the most successful in the country, raising over $22 million.

    It is not the only legacy they’ve left behind. Over recurring breakfasts at Overbrook Golf Club, the coaches would talk about everything from scheduling to the format of the Big 5 round-robin.

    Some of those ideas will be implemented on Saturday, in the third-annual Big 5 classic. Wright said that the triple-header format was discussed as far back as “15-20 years ago.”

    He and peers wanted to put on a big event, one that didn’t cause scheduling conflicts.

    “It was healthy, because we were from different leagues,” Martelli said. “Fran was in the Ivy League, I was in the Atlantic 10, and Jay was in the Big East.

    “It was always for the greater good. It wasn’t about, ‘What’s best for St Joe’s? It was, ‘What’s best for college basketball?’”

    ‘The elder statesmen’

    Wright, Dunphy, and Martelli have a reverence for Morris and the late Chaney, “the elder statesmen” of the group.

    Chaney took special interest in Dunphy, who replaced him at Temple in 2006. The former head coach liked to share his thoughts after games. This was especially true if Temple had too many turnovers.

    The next day, Dunphy’s phone would ring. He always knew who was calling.

    “The conversation would go, ‘Franny, what the hell is going on out there?’” he recalled. “‘Why are we turning the ball over?’

    “‘I know, Coach. We’re working on it. We’ve gotta get better.’”

    Speedy Morris and John Chaney developed a friendship while serving as Big 5 coaches.

    Like their younger counterparts, Morris and Chaney were contemporaries. They both grew up in the city; Morris in Roxborough and Chaney in North Philly.

    The coaches also shared a flair for the dramatic. Neither man was above throwing his coat, or screaming at a referee, or stomping up and down the court.

    They found kindred spirits in each other.

    “He was tough,” Morris said of Chaney. “But I enjoyed him, very much.”

    One day, in the late 1990s, the La Salle coach came up with an idea. The Temple coach was known for his expensive clothes, especially his ties. He’d often give them away as gifts.

    So, Morris decided to pay it forward. He grabbed a few dozen of the ugliest 70s-era ties he could find, and asked his wife, Mimi, to wrap them up in a box. She sent it to Temple, with a note.

    “It read, ‘You’ve been so kind to share some of your beautiful ties with me,’” Morris’s son, Keith, recalled. “‘I’d like to share a few of mine with you.’

    “Chaney opened it up, and he was like, ‘What is this [expletive]?’”

    After Chaney retired from coaching in March of 2006, he became an occasional attendee at Morris’ practices and games at St. Joe’s Prep. There was one, in particular, that stuck out in Morris’s mind.

    It was 2006, and the two coaches had just paid a visit to Tom Gola, who was dealing with a health scare. They headed back to the Prep, where they’d parked their cars. As Morris said goodbye, Chaney made an impromptu announcement.

    He would be coming to practice, too.

    John Chaney, Speedy Morris, and Fran Dunphy.

    Morris was thrilled. The high school coach asked his friend if he wanted to take the lead. Chaney insisted he didn’t. But once Morris started running a defensive drill, that quickly changed.

    It was a 2-3 matchup zone, and a Prep player missed a weak-side box-out. Chaney jumped out of his chair, as if he was still at Temple.

    He ran from midcourt to the paint.

    “He said, ‘No!’” Morris recalled. “‘That’s not how we do it!’”

    Chaney proceeded to give the student a 10-minute, expletive-laden lesson on rebounding and positioning. Keith Morris, an assistant coach at the time, nervously looked around to make sure there weren’t any Jesuit priests in the gym.

    The two coaches stayed close until Chaney died in 2021. They’d talk on the phone at least once a week. They’d get lunch together in Manayunk, discussing basketball and life.

    “They called each other brothers,” Keith said.

    ‘The caretakers’

    This level of camaraderie is more challenging in today’s game. When Wright, Dunphy, and Martelli were coaching, the idea of having a player transfer from one Big 5 school to another was unfathomable.

    Now, it is commonplace, with much more relaxed rules. The advent of NIL has pushed programs to generate more revenue, so they can remain competitive and pay their players. It has led to a corporate, less familial environment.

    But despite these challenges, the coaches still believe that upholding the Big 5 brotherhood is worth the effort.

    “Because the guys who are coaching now, they didn’t create the Big 5,” Martelli said. “They don’t own the Big 5. But they are the caretakers. And the same goes for all of us.”

  • North Catholic beat Frankford on Thanksgiving in 1978. It’s a victory the Norphans haven’t forgotten.

    North Catholic beat Frankford on Thanksgiving in 1978. It’s a victory the Norphans haven’t forgotten.

    Not long after North Catholic’s building and campus were sold in 2011, an alumnus found pieces of sports equipment in a nearby dumpster. Ruby-red helmets, game-used footballs, and faded trophies were discarded carelessly, bound for a landfill, until this anonymous Samaritan fished them out.

    To the seniors who were part of the school’s 1978 football team, these items were anything but garbage. They represented cherished memories, including the greatest of all: the 50th anniversary Thanksgiving Day game between the North Catholic Falcons and the Frankford Pioneers.

    The “Norphans” — derived from “North Catholic” and “orphans” — are determined to keep the legacy of that game alive. For decades, it was a Northeast Philadelphia tradition. The neighboring high schools, one public and one Catholic, played from 1928 to 2009, not for a state championship or a league title, but for bragging rights.

    The 50th anniversary pushed an already-intense rivalry to new heights. Eagles coach Dick Vermeil relocated his team’s practice to Franklin Field so the high schoolers could play at Veterans Stadium. Twenty-five thousand people showed up, including politicians and scores of local reporters.

    A souvenir from the Frankford-North Catholic 1978 football game. For decades, North Catholic and Frankford had a heated rivalry that played out in a Thanksgiving Day game.

    The Falcons were heavy underdogs. They’d gone 5-6 that year and had lost their previous four Thanksgiving games to Frankford. The Pioneers were a bigger team, with a renowned coach in Al Angelo, who led them to a 7-1-1 record en route to a city title in 1978.

    But North Catholic was gritty. And on Nov. 23, it pulled off an improbable win, beating its rival, 21-14, in the seniors’ final game together.

    As the Falcons walked off the field, nose tackle John Kane imagined returning for the 100th anniversary in 2028. That became impossible in 2010, when North Catholic closed because of dwindling enrollment, rendering the Thanksgiving tradition a thing of past.

    But the 1978 North Catholic seniors still have remnants of that game, recovered from the dumpster. They still have the film. They still have the memories, and they still have one another. And for that, they are grateful.

    “It was the last game we’d ever play together, and we went out as a winner,” said offensive lineman Chuck Cianci. “It was our championship.”

    ‘Our Super Bowl’

    North Catholic and Frankford occupied the same swath of Northeast Philly, about a mile and a half apart. The high schools’ proximity made the Thanksgiving game a hotly contested neighborhood event.

    Kane compared it to the “Catholics and the Protestants in Northern Ireland.” Cianci said it was like “hell week.” Stories of past Thanksgiving games were passed down from generation to generation. Local children dreamed of playing in it — and quickly learned to embrace the rivalry.

    Fullback Tim Keller, then a freshman, recalled taking the bus home after the Falcons lost to the Pioneers, 12-7, in 1974. As the North Catholic bus turned off Adams Avenue and onto Roosevelt Boulevard, the Frankford bus pulled up alongside it.

    “The next thing you know, the windows came out, and the [North Catholic fans] were throwing the [bus] seats at them,” Keller said. “We lost the game and tore the bus apart.”

    North Catholic and Frankford played their Thanksgiving game at Veterans Stadium on Nov. 23, 1978.

    A police officer pulled the vehicle over. He allowed women and children to exit, but raucous students and adults spent their Thanksgiving at the 15th Police District on Levick Street.

    “The cop gets on [the bus] and says, ‘Sit down!’” Keller said. “And we’re like, ‘We can’t. There are no seats anymore.’”

    The officer took the North Catholic fans’ IDs but did not search their pockets. They smuggled a bottle of wine in and passed it from cell to cell.

    Even when the games weren’t competitive, the rivalry remained intense. North Catholic was shut out every Thanksgiving from 1975 to 1977. Frankford put up a combined 65 points over that span.

    But the Falcons entered the 1978 season with a singular focus. North Catholic coach Jeb Lynch started harping on the Thanksgiving game during the team’s summer workouts at Allentown College of St. Francis de Sales (now DeSales University).

    They practiced from morning until night, turning their car headlights onto the field when it became too dark to see.

    It ended up being a lackluster season. By Thanksgiving week, North Catholic had lost four consecutive games, including a 49-11 drubbing by Archbishop Ryan.

    Nevertheless, the excitement around the 50th anniversary was palpable. It was all anyone in the neighborhood talked about. Teachers and students expressed their support — some in unorthodox ways.

    North Catholic slotback Dan Galiczynski took an electronics class his senior year. He was struggling. A few days before the game, his teacher, a religious brother, offered him a lifeline.

    “The brother said, ‘Dan, all you’ve got to do is beat Frankford,’” Galiczynski said. “‘And I’ll give you a 72.’”

    (He chose 72 because it would allow Galiczynski to “barely pass” without exaggerating his electronics savvy.)

    A poster from the 1978 game brought by former North Catholic football players gathering at Dagwood’s Pub in Torresdale on Nov. 16.

    Before 1978, the Thanksgiving game had been played at Temple Stadium (which was demolished in 1997) or Franklin Field, but to commemorate the 50th, Angelo proposed that it be moved to Veterans Stadium. The city signed off on the idea and arranged for Frankford to use the Eagles’ locker room. North Catholic was to use the visitors’.

    Just before 9:45 a.m. that Thursday, the Falcons walked out of the tunnel to thousands of screaming fans. They looked up and saw friends and family in the crowd.

    Frank Correll, who played on special teams, got goose bumps.

    “We all came from small neighborhoods,” he said. “So it was overwhelming. Now you understand why these guys all come out for big football games running around and jumping. There’s a lot of energy. And this was, for our school, our Super Bowl.”

    High school heroics

    It didn’t take long for things to get contentious. Frankford fans began chanting “We don’t want turkey, we want Falcon!” Some threw whiskey bottles at North’s captains during the coin toss.

    As handles of hard liquor careened through the autumn air, tailback Harry Ulmer turned to Cianci.

    “He was like, ‘What’s going on?’” Cianci said. “That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good.”

    Despite the hostility, North Catholic got off to a promising start. Defensive back Ray Dovell recovered a fumble on Frankford’s first possession, setting the Falcons up at the Pioneers’ 21-yard line. Moments later, Ulmer rushed for a touchdown to give North Catholic an early lead.

    Frankford responded with a 60-yard touchdown drive. But a two-point conversion attempt failed, leaving North Catholic with a 7-6 lead with 10 minutes, 23 seconds left in the second quarter.

    North Catholic vs. Frankford in a Thanksgiving game at Veterans Stadium on Nov. 23, 1978.

    Then North Catholic got another break. Defensive back Joe McCourt intercepted a pass from Frankford quarterback Chris Yurkow, and ran 18 yards to reach the Pioneers’ 30-yard line.

    With less than two minutes to go in the half, North Catholic was desperate to add to its lead. But on the next three plays, the team didn’t get any closer to the end zone; it went backward, losing 6 yards.

    Now, there was only a minute remaining. North Catholic sat on the 35-yard line, too close to punt and too far for a field goal. Lynch settled on a conservative play. He wanted to run the ball.

    But Cianci had other ideas. The offensive lineman jogged into the huddle.

    “Coach just wants you to run the ball,” he said. “We’re not doing that. What do you want to do?”

    Wide receiver Tim Weidenmiller looked at quarterback Tony Daulerio. The team had practiced a tight end out-and-up play but hadn’t used it in the game yet.

    “I can beat this corner right now,” Weidenmiller told him.

    “All right,” Daulerio responded. “Let’s do that.”

    On fourth-and-16, Daulerio hit Weidenmiller for a 23-yard pass that put them at Frankford’s 12-yard line. Ulmer then ran it in for his second touchdown of the day, giving North a 14-6 lead at the half.

    In the third quarter, Frankford blocked a North Catholic field goal and recovered the ball at its own 33-yard line. The Pioneers drove 67 yards to tie the game, 14-14, with 4:04 left in the quarter.

    North Catholic vs. Frankford was a Thanksgiving game tradition. The Falcons beat the Pioneers on Nov. 23, 1978.

    Ulmer exited with a sprained ankle. Running back Dave Paul replaced him and ran 26 yards for a touchdown, but the play was called back for a clipping penalty. The ball was returned to the 29-yard line.

    Galiczynski walked over to his coach.

    “Listen,” he told Lynch. “I’m a senior. Dave Paul is a sophomore. I ran tailback my whole junior year. Put me in.”

    “Go ahead,” Lynch responded.

    Galiczynski scored two plays later. The Falcons made the extra point, giving them a 21-14 lead with 10:22 left.

    The Pioneers had ample time to score, but North held the line. Defensive back Paul Golden finished the game by intercepting Yurkow’s Hail Mary pass with just over a minute remaining. The clock ran out. The Falcons crowd roared.

    A few players lifted Lynch on their shoulders as they triumphantly marched off the field.

    “We got to this game, in this special place, and we won it,” Cianci said. “And to look around and see the fans, and how much joy they had … it was unbelievable. We were like folk heroes.”

    A new tradition

    After graduating, the seniors from the 1978 North Catholic team went their separate ways. Some moved out of the city, some moved out of the state. But the group stayed in touch while supporting each other from afar.

    In the early 1980s, Cianci was accepted into the police academy. A few months later, he was told classes for that semester had been canceled. He had to find a new job until the academy opened up, and happened to run into Galiczynski at a local softball game in Philadelphia.

    Cianci explained his predicament.

    “Danny said, ‘You can work with me in construction,’” Cianci said. “And he put me to work until the academy called me back. That’s the kind of friendship we have.”

    Former North Catholic football players Paul Golden (from left), Tim Keller, Joe McCourt, and Mike Butler catch up on Nov. 16 at Dagwood’s Pub in Torresdale.

    In 2018, Tommy Campbell, a senior defensive tackle on the 1978 team, fell ill. He was diagnosed with amyloidosis and a rare blood disease. His heart and liver were failing him. The North Catholic graduate spent six months on life support in the intensive care unit.

    Campbell worked as a mechanic for an airline at Dulles International Airport in suburban Washington. The airline’s insurance company told him it wasn’t going to cover a heart and liver transplant because of the blood disease.

    His wife, Karen, began a letter-writing campaign to persuade the insurance company to pay for the operations. Multiple members of the 1978 North Catholic team joined in.

    Linebacker Pat Jordan, a 1978 senior captain, took it a step further. He was a longtime plumber with Local 690. The union used the same insurance as Campbell, so Jordan decided to apply some pressure.

    “He went to the international, and said, ‘Listen, we need to do something. This is one of my best friends,’” Cianci said. “‘We’re going to call the insurance company. We’re going to threaten to pull our insurance for all union members if they don’t get this approved.’”

    The company reversed its decision and covered Campbell’s surgery. To this day, he believes his teammates saved his life.

    “These were guys I hadn’t seen in 30-35 years, coming to the plate,” Campbell said. “Everybody should be lucky enough to feel that.”

    Jordan died unexpectedly on Feb. 3. He was 63. The 1978 seniors toasted to him during a reunion last summer in North Wildwood.

    Former North Catholic football players gather together on Nov. 16.

    This is their annual tradition now. There are no more North Catholic-Frankford games to go to. The local Thanksgiving games that remain just don’t feel the same.

    So every July, the Norphans will meet at the beach before they head to Keenan’s Irish Pub. They’ll celebrate Jordan, linebacker Frank Wodjak, guard Ken McGuckin, and other fallen teammates.

    They’ll wear black-and-red polo shirts with uniform numbers stitched into their sleeves and relive a day that still feels like dream.

    “And we’ll toast,” Galiczynski said, “until the last of us is standing.”

  • First-year coach K.C. Keeler is committed to Temple, Philly, and his ‘grandpa’ dance moves

    First-year coach K.C. Keeler is committed to Temple, Philly, and his ‘grandpa’ dance moves

    Last summer, K.C. Keeler and his wife, Janice, began building a house in Wilmington. This would not have been notable if Keeler were coaching at an SEC dynasty or a Big 10 stalwart.

    But he works for Temple, where head football coaches have long been transient.

    The Owls have shuffled through 11, including interims, in 15 years. Some were fired because they weren’t winning; some were poached to fill higher-paying jobs.

    One coach, Manny Diaz, stayed for 17 days before running off to the University of Miami. Another, Geoff Collins, led Temple to a 15-10 record, only to leave for Georgia Tech after two years.

    Collins took over for Matt Rhule, who went 28-23 over four seasons before departing for Baylor. Rod Carey came next, and was fired after three seasons, during which he posted a 12-20 record.

    Stan Drayton, who won only nine games in parts of three seasons, didn’t even make it to the end of the 2024 campaign.

    This dynamic — being a smaller Division I program with fewer resources — has led Temple to a difficult balancing act. The school is established enough to hire good coaches but not always to keep them.

    Temple coach K.C. Keeler looks on during practice at the Edberg-Olson Hall football facility in July 30.

    Keeler, whom the Owls hired on Dec. 1, appears to be different. He has an established track record of building winning programs, and the 66-year-old won’t likely use Temple as a stepping stone.

    He’s deeply invested in the Owls and has genuine belief in his team’s ability. He also has local ties: The coach grew up in Emmaus, Lehigh County, 50 miles north of Philadelphia, and has a daughter and grandchildren who live in Delaware.

    Which is why he built a home in the area. Keeler is the first Temple head coach since Bruce Arians in the mid-1980s to do so.

    “It’s incredible what he’s done,” said senior quarterback Evan Simon, “and it’s only his first year. I wish I had a couple more with him.”

    A winning legacy

    Keeler’s first memory of Temple dates to the late 1970s, when he was a starting linebacker at the University of Delaware.

    The Blue Hens were a strong team but consistently struggled against the Division I Owls. In 1978, they won 10 games but were soundly beaten by Temple, 38-7.

    In 1979, when it won a Division II national championship, Delaware lost only one game. It was to Temple, at home, 31-14, on Sept. 22.

    Keeler graduated in 1981, and was hired as an assistant coach at Amherst College in Massachusetts that year. Rowan added him to its staff in 1986 (when it was known as Glassboro State College) and named Keeler head coach in 1993.

    Over nine seasons, he led the Profs to an 88-21-1 record, with seven Division III playoff appearances. Delaware brought him on as head coach in 2002 (succeeding Tubby Raymond after 36 seasons) and Keeler went 86-52 with the Blue Hens, reaching the Division I-AA national title game three times and winning a championship in 2003.

    He joined Sam Houston State as head coach in 2014, and posted a 97-39 record through 11 seasons, making the FCS playoffs six times and winning a second national title in 2020.

    Temple, meanwhile, notched only 11 winning seasons between 1981 and 2024. The Owls had suffered an especially tough stretch of late, failing to win more than three games in a season since 2019.

    K.C. Keeler won the NCAA Division I-AA Championship at Delaware in 2003.

    But for Keeler, the shine of those 1970s-era teams never wore off. He still saw a winner. So, when Temple approached him last year after firing Drayton, he took the opportunity.

    Things got off to a slow start. Some players were worried that they wouldn’t be welcomed back.

    Others were unsure of how they’d jell with Keeler and his staff.

    The head coach held a team meeting in December, before his introductory news conference. He tried to tell a couple of jokes, to lighten the mood.

    No one laughed. Keeler turned to his special teams coordinator, Brian Ginn.

    “Boy, these guys are serious,” he said.

    “Yeah,” Ginn responded. “They just went 3-9. I can see why they’re serious.”

    A few hours later, Keeler told the media what he told his team: that there would be no rebuild. That he was here to win a bowl or a conference championship.

    Simon, the senior quarterback, was standing in the back of the room, listening acutely.

    “It was a little scary [at first],” he said. “I mean, this place hasn’t won more than three games since, who knows? I don’t even know.”

    Over the next few days, Keeler held one-on-one meetings with all 114 players on Temple’s roster.

    He asked what they liked — and disliked — about the program, and what changes they wanted to see.

    The coach quickly showed a willingness to listen, even to seemingly mundane concerns. Many players lived off-campus and mentioned that they had to pay for a meal plan that they didn’t use.

    Keeler talked to a few higher-ups, and was able to make a change, putting $500 worth of meal money back into players’ pockets. Temple now provides grab-and-go lunches and snacks, available outside the locker room.

    The head coach continued to encourage his team to communicate, and gradually, the players began to feel more comfortable.

    From left, Temple athletic director Arthur Johnson, newly-hired football head coach K.C. Keeler, and university president John Fry at a news conference on Dec. 3.

    In February, Keeler got word that a former Temple defensive tackle, Demerick Morris, would be leaving Oklahoma State. He had transferred there in December 2024 but had a change of heart, and was eager to return to Philly.

    Keeler wanted to bring him back, too, but decided to ask his defensive line coach, Cedric Calhoun, to check with rest of the linemen first.

    They were not on board.

    “Coach Calhoun goes, ‘They said, [expletive] no. There’s no way they’re taking him back,’” Keeler said. “And he was in a panic. I’m like, ‘It’s OK, let me handle this.’”

    The three defensive linemen — Allan Haye, K.J. Miles, and Sekou Kromah — shuffled into Keeler’s office and sat shoulder-to-shoulder on his cherry-red couch.

    Before Keeler explained his side, he made sure the players knew it was their decision.

    Then, he asked for their perspective. They said that years ago, the four linemen had made a pact not to enter the transfer portal. To stay at Temple and “fix” the program.

    When Morris left for Oklahoma State, Haye, Miles, and Kromah felt betrayed.

    “[To them], it was ‘Demerick broke the pact,’” Keeler recounted. “‘Demerick took the money.’”

    The head coach laid out the situation in more pragmatic terms. Temple needed to bring in another defensive tackle, regardless. Why not go with the familiar option?

    K.C. Keeler directing Temple against Howard on Sept. 6.

    “I know Demerick is a great player,” Keeler told them. “I can’t guarantee the [other] guy we’re going to bring in is going to be a great player.

    “I know Demerick is a great person. The guy we bring in … I don’t know a lot about him. I know Demerick loves Philadelphia. He’s living here now. He’s from Chicago.”

    The linemen changed their minds.

    “Again, the key was, this is still your call,” Keeler said. “I am not going to overrule your decision.”

    Poor push-ups and ‘terrible’ dance moves

    When Simon showed up to practice last summer, he could tell things were going to be different.

    At 66, Keeler was doing push-ups in the middle of the field. He was running sprints and stretching alongside his team.

    He even took control of the stereo sometimes, playing the music of his adolescence: Bruce Springsteen, Bananarama, and, of course, KC and the Sunshine Band.

    The quarterback compared it to being around your fun “uncle.”

    “They’re the world’s worst push-ups,” Simon said. “But his energy, it lifts the program. You’re allowed to have fun at practice.”

    Keeler strikes a balance. There are times when practice is not fun. The head coach has high standards and pushes his team hard.

    But he also tries to foster human connection wherever he can, whether it’s sending a birthday text to a player, hosting team dinners, or organizing trivia nights at Temple’s Liacouras Center.

    One of Keeler’s biggest assets is his humor. He isn’t afraid to laugh at himself.

    On Oct. 4, in Temple’s fifth game of the season, the Owls trailed Texas-San Antonio, 14-3, at the half.

    Keeler reamed his players out in the locker room. He told them that it was the first time he’d been embarrassed to be their coach.

    “I said, ‘This the first time I’ve ever even thought this, in my 10 months here,’” Keeler recalled.

    The team responded almost immediately. Temple scored 21 points in the third quarter and ended up winning the game, 27-21.

    Afterward, the players started dancing in the locker room. Keeler joined in.

    The coach received some tough feedback.

    “A lot of comments like ‘I dance like an old white guy,’” he said. “Well, yeah, I am an old white guy. But, you know, winning is hard. So when you win? You celebrate.”

    The post-win dance quickly became a team tradition, and Keeler began to get creative with which guys he’d single out.

    On Oct. 18, in the final seconds of Temple’s victory over Charlotte, he looked to the sideline to find three of his players — Cam Stewart, Khalil Poteat, and Mausa Palu — dancing.

    The coach had always instructed his team not to gloat in public. So, he decided to teach them a lesson.

    When the players walked into the locker room, Keeler called them out.

    “OK,” he said. “You guys want to dance? You’re leading the dance.”

    General manager Clayton Barnes hit the music. The team gathered in a circle, as Stewart, Poteat, and Palu showed off their moves.

    Then, Keeler showed off his.

    “Terrible,” said Kromah.

    “It’s like seeing your grandpa dancing,” said running back Jay Ducker. “‘OK, grandpa! OK!’”

    “I think he’s got to start stretching before he does them,” said Simon.

    On Oct. 25, after Temple’s fifth win of the season, against Tulsa, Keeler summoned offensive lineman Giakoby Hills.

    It was Hills’ birthday.

    “Giakoby, come on down!” Keeler said. “Birthday boy is going to lead the dance.”

    This may seem like a silly custom, but for a team that couldn’t muster a laugh back in December, it’s progress.

    Temple quarterback Evan Simon has 22 touchdowns with 1,847 passing yards and only one interception through 10 games this season.

    And for players like Simon, it has made a difference. The quarterback is in the midst of a career season. He has 22 touchdowns with 1,847 passing yards and only one interception through 10 games.

    He credits a lot to “Uncle” Keeler.

    “He’s so easy to talk to,” Simon said. “And that’s important as a player. Not being nervous all the time. Because I’ve experienced that, where there’s tension, [and you’re] afraid to mess up. But he’s super easygoing.”

    ‘Not afraid to fail’

    There are plenty of young players who have thrived under Keeler’s quirky coaching style.

    But none as successful as Bengals quarterback and 18-year NFL veteran Joe Flacco, who played at Delaware in 2006 and 2007.

    Keeler brought the same enthusiasm back then that he does now (with fewer dance moves, to which Flacco responded: “Thank God”).

    When Flacco transferred from Pittsburgh to Delaware, he was a backup quarterback, sorely in need of a good spring.

    K.C. Keeler coached Joe Flacco at Delaware.

    He contemplated playing collegiate baseball, an idea the coach quickly put an end to. Keeler told his pupil that he needed to focus on football. He reiterated, time and time again, that Flacco would be drafted by an NFL team.

    It was helpful for the young quarterback to hear.

    “I was honestly happy,” Flacco said. “I thought I wanted to pursue [baseball], but deep down, I really didn’t. And he didn’t want me to do it. So, I was like, ‘Good, I don’t really want to do it.’”

    After Flacco was selected by the Baltimore Ravens in the first round of the 2008 NFL draft, he met with his former coach.

    Keeler asked him a question.

    “I’m going to be talking to another team [someday], and they’re going to want to know,” he said, “what makes Joe Flacco great?”

    The quarterback answered without hesitation.

    “I’m not afraid to fail,” he responded.

    Keeler might have this quality, too. He was not afraid to loudly proclaim that he wanted Temple to become bowl-eligible this season, and his team is close to meeting that threshold.

    The Owls have lost their last two games, in part because of mounting injuries. Despite that setback, they sit at 5-5, the most wins since 2019.

    Temple needs to win one of its remaining two games — Saturday against Tulane or Nov. 28 at North Texas — to qualify for a bowl game.

    But regardless of what happens, Keeler won’t be afraid of the outcome. And if the Owls win, he certainly won’t be afraid to dance.

    “[He has] a belief and ability to make [a program] bigger than what everybody thinks it is,” Flacco said of his former coach. “It’s not only that he says it, and preaches it, but he also gets you to believe it. And that’s huge.”

  • Grieving Roman Catholic coach and his family find solace in their football community

    Grieving Roman Catholic coach and his family find solace in their football community

    When Rick Prete returned from Iraq in 2009, he had just one focus: his family. Throughout his yearlong deployment as an infantryman in the Army, he could speak to his wife and daughter only sparingly over Skype.

    Once he was home in Audubon, Montgomery County, he tried to spend as much time with them as possible. He took on day-to-day tasks with glee, like doctor’s appointments and school drop-offs. Prete didn’t see these as mundane. To him, they were opportunities.

    “How can I be around my kid more?” he said. “That’s all I really cared about.”

    It was this mentality that brought Prete to youth cheerleading practice in Conshohocken in the summer of 2010. For four nights a week, he would sit and watch 6-year-old Arianna’s routines as the 15-and-under football team did drills nearby.

    Prete, a former wide receiver at Norristown High School and East Stroudsburg University, barely noticed that the players were there. But the Conshohocken Bears’ coaches noticed him, and quickly asked if he’d consider joining their staff.

    Prete declined at first. The veteran was battling depression, he said, and worked late nights as an emergency room technician. Any free time he had, he wanted to spend with Arianna and his wife, Gabriela.

    But after a few weeks, Prete warmed up to the idea. He would observe the team’s practices and suggest different defenses and coverages. Conshohocken added him as an assistant coach in August 2010, and he dove right in.

    Rick Prete has been the head football coach at Roman Catholic since 2019.

    Gabriela noticed that Rick was happier and more talkative at home. She’d catch him poring over film and scribbling plays on napkins and notepads. Instead of thinking about what he’d seen in Iraq, he was thinking about how to help his players.

    “I definitely saw a shift in him,” she said. “This was something that he loved, but he was also good at it. It was like an outlet.”

    Prete’s coaching career took off from there. He was hired as a wide receivers/defensive backs coach at Plymouth Whitemarsh High School in 2012, and joined Malvern Prep’s staff as the freshman head coach in 2015. He was named the school’s varsity wide receivers coach in 2016, and Imhotep Charter hired Prete to serve as offensive coordinator in 2017.

    In 2019, he became head coach of Roman Catholic High School’s football program, where he remains.

    Prete has always said that he wouldn’t have found his calling without Arianna. Now the sport is healing him in her absence.

    In the early morning of July 11, 2024, Arianna and a friend were riding in another friend’s Honda Odyssey when their vehicle collided with a tow truck at K Street and East Hunting Park Avenue in North Philadelphia.

    According to the Philadelphia Police Department, the truck driver was speeding and blew through a red light. The minivan entered the intersection just as the traffic signal was turning from yellow to red.

    Arianna was ejected forward from the backseat. She suffered severe injuries and was taken to Temple University Hospital, where she was pronounced dead less than an hour later.

    She was 19, and the only fatality from the crash.

    Court records show that the driver of the tow truck, Omar Morales, was charged with homicide by vehicle, involuntary manslaughter, and four related offenses.

    Charlie Payano, the friend driving the Odyssey, was charged with homicide by vehicle, involuntary manslaughter, and three related offenses.

    The trial is scheduled to start soon.

    Prete’s initial instinct was to quit football altogether. He barely had enough energy to get out of bed, let alone handle a group of teenagers.

    But Gabriela urged him to return to Roman Catholic. More than a year since the crash, he’s glad he did.

    “I don’t know if I’d be able to sit here right now, and go forward throughout a day,” Prete said, “if I didn’t have those kids.”

    Rick Prete at his home in Audubon, Montgomery County, on Oct. 2.

    A football and softball bond

    Arianna and Rick always connected over sports. She was a self-described “girly girl” who loved the color pink, romantic comedies, and Bruno Mars, but also a natural athlete like her father.

    She signed up for T-ball when she was 6 and switched over to travel softball not long after. Norristown Recreation didn’t have an under- 10 team at the time, so Arianna played with 10-, 11-, and 12-year-olds.

    Despite facing pitchers far older, she made contact regularly and quickly emerged as a hitter to watch. Rick, who played baseball in high school and college, began to train with her.

    Arianna would take 100 swings off the tee every day. Sometimes, her father would throw soft toss in the backyard. When she switched from third base to catcher at age 10, Rick started challenging her behind the plate.

    He’d spike softballs in the dirt, or pitch them high above, forcing his daughter to shift and block. By age 12, they were flipping tires and swinging sledgehammers in the driveway.

    “[Softball] was a huge part of our relationship,” he said. “That was my avenue to learn how to be her dad.”

    Arianna felt equally invested in Prete’s coaching career. When she was a student at Methacton High School, from 2019 to 2023, she would spend Friday nights with the football team at Roman Catholic.

    Rick Prete’s wife, Gabriela, with daughters Nylah and Arianna at a Roman Catholic game.

    In the school’s 2019 season opener, on Aug. 24, the Cahillites found themselves down 26-0 in the first quarter to Pope John Paul II. By halftime, they’d narrowed their deficit to 11 points.

    The team kept chipping away, and with 1 minute, 30 seconds to go, quarterback Jayden Pope threw a 50-yard touchdown pass to earn Roman a 47-46 comeback win.

    Prete still has the film from that night. In the background, Arianna is on the sideline, sprinting toward wide receiver Malachi Harris, who made the game-winning catch.

    “You couldn’t tell that girl that she wasn’t an assistant coach,” Gabriela said. “She liked the energy. Running up and down the field with the other coaches. You would always find her there.”

    Prete’s teams went 10-28 over his first four seasons, but over time, he built a strong program. The Cahillites posted a 9-3 record in both 2022 and 2023.

    In 2023, in the District 12 Class 5A championship game, Roman Catholic lost to Imhotep Charter, the eventual state champion, by only 4 points.

    With more success came more commitment, so Prete would always check to make sure that Arianna and her younger sister, Nylah, were comfortable with him coaching. After a while, the question became redundant. The answer was always yes.

    “They’d both say, ‘No, you go coach,’” Prete said. “‘We want you to.’”

    Arianna graduated from Methacton in 2023. She enrolled at Montgomery County Community College in the fall of that year, and took a real estate course in the spring, but was unable to pass the state exam. She planned to return to Montco in September.

    The former softball player had always loved working with kids, so she thought about becoming a teacher. Or maybe going back to real estate school, to retake her test. But these possibilities, once filled with promise, came to an abrupt halt on July 11, 2024.

    Rick and Gabriela heard a knock at about 3:30 a.m. Two Lower Providence Township police officers were standing outside their door.

    Rick Prete wears a necklace with a photo of him and his daughter Arianna, who died in a 2024 car crash.

    They told the Pretes about the collision and instructed them to go to Temple University Hospital Jeanes Campus, in Fox Chase, to identify Arianna’s body.

    But once they arrived, their daughter wasn’t there.

    “It gives you a glimmer of hope,” Gabriela said. “Maybe they got this wrong.”

    In an email, Lower Providence Police Chief Michael Jackson said that the officers received their information from a victims’ advocate at Temple University Hospital.

    The parents finally reached Temple’s main hospital, on North Broad Street, at about 7 a.m., and realized that the victim was indeed their daughter.

    “Your body shuts down,” Rick said. “Your mind goes numb. It’s your worst nightmare being realized.”

    Rick Prete poses for a portrait at his home in Audubon, Montgomery County, on Oct. 2.

    ‘I feel your pain, Coach’

    The next few days were a blur. The Pretes called as many family members as they could. A steady stream of visitors came through the house to share condolences, with flowers and food in hand.

    Roman Catholic was scheduled to go to a three-day team camp at East Stroudsburg on the day of Arianna’s passing. But Prete was not in any shape to attend and arranged for offensive coordinator Marcus Hammond to take the team instead.

    Two days later, the Cahillites finished their visit and piled into two yellow school buses. The drivers were supposed to head back to campus, but the students had a different idea.

    The team went to the coach’s house in Audubon. More than 50 players gathered on his lawn, took a knee, and began to sing Roman Catholic’s fight song.

    Prete stood on his porch, buried his head in his hands, and cried.

    “Thank you,” he said. “Now, give me a … hug.”

    Gabriela ordered some pizzas. A few players pulled Rick aside to say a prayer. One student, 17-year-old quarterback Semaj Beals, shared that he’d lost his sister Dymond in 2014. She was 8, and died by suicide.

    “I feel your pain, Coach,” Beals said. “And if you need anything, if you need to talk to me, I’m here.”

    Prete hugged him tight.

    Lou Gaddy hugs his coach, Rick Prete, at Roman Catholic’s senior day in 2024.

    “I know you do,” he replied.

    For many of the Cahillites, Prete has been like a second father. He’d lend them food and gas money. If they lived far away from the school, at Broad and Vine, he’d arrange for alternate transportation.

    The coach would regularly check on his players’ mental health and always made sure their grades weren’t slipping. There were conversations about schemes and formations, but also about how to treat a young woman, how to plan for their future, and how to handle a difficult situation at home.

    Lou Gaddy, a Roman Catholic graduate who is now a freshman safety at Stony Brook University, is the first person in his family to go to college. He received a full scholarship.

    Gaddy grew up in Burlington County in South Jersey and is unsure if he would have made it if he hadn’t played for Roman Catholic.

    “Who knows if I’d develop the way I did,” he said. “The [Philadelphia Catholic League] is a much stronger conference than where I live. It’s way more work. It requires more out of you. Long days, late nights.

    “But Coach Prete definitely knew what he was doing. He’s sent countless amounts of kids to college. Countless.”

    Because of this connection, the players felt Arianna’s death on a deeper level. Some saw Prete, overwhelmed by grief, and felt as if they were watching their own parent cry for the first time.

    Their coach was the one who fixed problems for them. Now, he was distraught. He struggled to focus. His attention to detail wasn’t the same.

    Prete was reluctant to return to Roman Catholic. He struggled to just get through a day. But Gabriela insisted he go back. The couple had already been robbed of their daughter. She didn’t want him to lose his career, too.

    He rejoined his team in August 2024. It was a challenging adjustment. There were days when players asked if Prete was OK, only to hear him say, “No.” The coach began wearing sunglasses during games and practices, day and night, because he couldn’t hold back his tears.

    Rick Prete was reluctant to return to Roman Catholic after his daughter died in a car crash last summer. Now, it’s helping him heal.

    Prete was in charge of the defense, but at times, he struggled to call plays. So, his players would call them for him.

    “They’d bail me out,” Prete said. “Lou [Gaddy] would literally line the defense up. And he would just make sure the defense had the plays that they needed. And he’d do it right.

    “All of the kids did that, because they knew that I’d be gone sometimes.”

    Gaddy would also make sure that his teammates understood the playbook and handled any adjustments that needed to be made on defense. Beals compared him to a “coach on the field.”

    “It was just to take the stress off,” Gaddy said. “Semaj made sure the offense was in check. And that’s kind of how I was with the defense. Making sure people were attacking the field the right way.”

    Players who previously sat out practices became regular participants. They were more efficient in their workouts and pushed themselves harder than before.

    The team discovered a greater purpose beyond competing for district titles or a state championship. The season was no longer about them. It was about their coach.

    “Sometimes, when things happen like that, a head coach will step away,” Beals said. “But Coach Prete was there the whole way. So, we just felt like that was special. We needed to do something for him.”

    Roman began to win — a lot. The Cahillites didn’t lose until Week 5 when the team played DeMatha, a high school powerhouse out of Hyattsville, Md.

    Rick Prete (right) with a referee who approached him before a game in 2024. The referee had also lost a child, and expressed his condolences, when a rainbow appeared over both of them.

    The games were competitive, but with soulful moments of humanity throughout. Opposing coaches would give Prete prayer cards when they shook hands. In September 2024, before Roman Catholic played A.P. Randolph Campus High School in New York, a referee walked up to him.

    He told Prete that he’d also lost a child. As they talked, a rainbow appeared over the field. To Rick and Gabriela, the 2024 campaign was full of moments like these. Moments that felt as if their daughter was with them.

    It could be as subtle as a seeing a butterfly on the field. Or hearing a song on the way to a game. Or noticing that the players had written “LLA” — Long Live Arianna — on their helmets, compression sleeves, and wristbands.

    An already special season reached a new height in December, when Roman Catholic advanced to the state championship for the first time in school history. With an 11-4 record, the Cahillites had plowed through the district playoffs to face Bishop McDevitt of Harrisburg in the final.

    On a brisk night in central Pennsylvania, Roman Catholic rallied from a 21-3 deficit to tie the score at 31 and push the game into overtime. The Cahillites fell just short of a championship, losing to McDevitt on a field goal, but Prete was filled with pride.

    “I don’t want to say it was magical,” he said, “but that team became so close. And it really felt like my kid was right there. Like my kid was literally right next to me.”

    Rick and Gabriela Prete at their home in Audubon, Montgomery County, on Oct. 2.

    Coaching with purpose

    The Prete house is quiet now. Arianna’s laugh is no longer ringing through the halls. Her parents don’t hear her feet stomping along the floor upstairs, or her shrill voice singing to Bruno Mars.

    Gabriela thinks about her daughter constantly. Sometimes, when Rick is sitting in his living room chair, late at night, he looks toward the door, expecting Arianna to open it.

    There are little signs of normalcy. Last year, Gabriela started seeing Rick’s trail of football plays again. He would leave them all over the house, on napkins and notepads, just like he did before his daughter’s passing.

    Football won’t bring her back. It won’t diminish the family’s grief. But Roman Catholic gives them a community. It gives Gabriela and Nylah a place to be on Friday nights.

    It gives Rick a task; three or four hours that aren’t spent asking questions he can’t answer. A task that fills him with purpose.

    “I didn’t know how much energy I have left to give anybody,” Prete said. “But [the players] help get me out of bed. They put things in perspective. That we still have a family, that our family still does have a future.

    “That we need to pour into what’s here, and to be present, for Arianna. We can’t live in a standstill. And seeing people accomplish their goals. … It’s always been something we’ve wanted, but now that is what it’s all about. You know?”