In the 1985 Turkey Bowl, Rick Crosley (on left with the ball) is seen with Neil Nolen (#6) Chris “Bunky” Bahner (in red), Tim Nolen (Neil's brother) on the ground in the background, Joe Bergen (#52), Jimmy "Chum" Carroll (background), John "Festy" Cawley (red #10) and Lou "Caveman" Incognito (far right). -- Photo courtesy of John "Festy" Cawley[/caption]

by Rich McIlhenny and Neil Nolen

There were no gangs when we were growing up, just neighborhoods. Before we were able to venture far from our turf, our pocket of West Mt. Airy, we mixed it up in pick-up games of wiffleball, touch football, hoops and street hockey, and the East Mt. Airy kids soon became our rivals.

As we got into our teens, East and West Mt. Airy had epic battles in basketball and football games at PSD (The Pennsylvania School for the Deaf, now New Covenant Church) at 7500 Germantown Ave. and in the cathedral of street hockey know as The Little Red Schoolyard at the back of Houston Elementary School.

At nighttime we hung out and partied at spots known as “the Wall” at Gowen and Sprague (named well before Pink Floyd’s epic 1979 album), the Corner, Little Texas and Beer Haven, and soon we developed a rivalry in sports and on the streets with the kids up the Avenue in Chestnut Hill. They didn't live in the sprawling estates close to the Wissahickon but in the more modest homes close to the Avenue and mostly on the east side. Many of them were descendants of the masons, laborers and other workers who either helped build or worked in the mansions the Hill is famous for.

We had come to know each other well as athletes. As grade-schoolers we honed our skills and played alongside and against them in organized sports at the Wissahickon Skating Club and football field in Wyndmoor, but by far most of our meetings were at the Water Tower Recreation Center.

It was a time of nicknames. And there were hundreds of them. (A recent Facebook post compiled a very long list.) Many kids' real names were mysteries, and some are still to this day. We had the likes of Daffy, Slim, Shameless, Yappy, Stinky, Chum, Hoag, Mad Dog, Breeze, Biddy, Egger and Peanut, while Chestnut Hill had Spanky, Festy, Critter, Fetus, Reds, Bee Bop, Blem, Albies, Termite, Nails and Newt, among others.

High school and then college scattered the kids but not their identities, and before embarking on adult lives we all shared one final rite of passage: Turkey Bowl on Thanksgiving Day, Mt. Airy vs. Chestnut Hill.

If the game was played today, there would be streaming videos, Facebook posts and maybe even a drone filming overhead, but this was way before social media.

It was a rivalry we inherited from our big brothers and the “old heads” on the block. When our turn came, we carried on the tradition. Decades have passed, and now we are all ancient. What is left are memories of specific games and plays, recounted wistfully at barbecues, reunions and run-ins at places like the Bocce Club, Towey's and the Mt. Airy Tavern (where McMenamin's is today). The internet has allowed us to reconnect, and a tradition of trash talking has evolved each November.

The first salvo usually comes from Brian aka Yappy, aka "BC" Connelly, who back in the day coined the war-cry “Who are WE? … MT. AIRY!!! Who we gonna KILL? … CHESTNUT HILL!!!”

And yes, fists sometimes flew, and blood WAS actually spilled. There were no helmets and pads, but it was full-on tackle football as if we were wearing pads.

For our era it began in 1982 at PSD, and the baddest bad-ass from Mt. Airy lined up purposefully across from the baddest bad-ass from Chestnut Hill for the first play of the game. He knew that, at that moment, someone was going to set the tone of that game.

Adrenalin and menace met across that line, and when the ball was snapped and a cheap shot was made, the only choice was to hit or be hit. The two combatants squared off, and the Chestnut Hill player cocked his fist and reared his arm back and went to throw a punch. He never had a chance to connect, and before he knew it, he was on his back in a daze with blood running down his face.

Many men, now in their 50s, swear they remember the “crack!” of that nose breaking, the sound ricocheting as if across the grassy knoll. I am one of them as I was just a few feet away from the devastating and blinding fast right cross that got there first. Almost as an afterthought, the play resulted in a safety, which was the only score in a ruthless afternoon.

But it wasn’t all blood and guts; some strategy seeped through the dirt. The only “real” football player on the field that day was Eric “Fish” Fisher, who then was playing with the freshman team at Penn. He devised a play called the “center screen” in which the Mt. Airy line collapsed and lured CH’s defensive line, led by pugnacious nose guard John Duffy, into the offensive backfield.

Then the offensive line regrouped and formed a protective wedge behind the center, setting up a pop-pass to the halfback. Chestnut Hill really only fell for it once, but Mt. Airy ran it many times. The hysterical part is that both sides came up high-fiving each other after each center screen! Mt. Airy was content to grind out four or five yards (but never score!) against an otherwise pitiless defense. And Chestnut Hill’s defensive line was more than happy to yield a first down or two because they were free to maul the undefended Mt. Airy quarterback, which they did, over and over again, with maniacal gusto.

In the following years, the games flashed with more finesse. Like almost everybody else on the field, “old-timer” Ernie Covington had learned the game from legendary coach George “Gov” Henry. From the sidelines Ernie fed Mt. Airy trick passes and cross blocks from the backfield, which kept Chestnut Hill’s linebackers on their heels. For its part, the Hill had Jim, "Reds" Reilly as a dangerous double threat at QB. But its most consistent “offensive” tactic was the soaring punts that were lofted to keep Mt. Airy on its side of the field (most of the time). But there were moments of end-zone glory and heroes on both sides. A split wide left pop pass on second down set up a fake pop on third. After the defense swallowed the bait, the speedy Tim Nolen actually had to wait for the pass to arrive. By the time he ran the next 65 yards, there was no one even close to him. Jack Melissen and George Ford swapped long touchdown grabs in games two and three (both on home turf, Water Tower and PSD, respectively). Jack scored on a deep cross, and George snatched his off a bootleg from Reilly. And, like the rain, the late great Brian “Albis” Albertelli was unstoppable for Chestnut Hill in game four, the last for our crew.

It is altogether fitting and proper that no one team dominated those Pennsylvania battlefields, our hallowed grounds. Our era from the mid-'80s carved up the matches evenly at two wins each. In fact, the games went win/lose/win/lose (or vice versa, depending on whether you were “19119” or “19118”). So you could wear the ring and reign at Towey's or Mt. Airy Tavern for the next year, at most. Only decades later do we realize that there were no losers at Turkey Bowl. From a time long before smart phones and self-ies, few photographs survive. The pictures are etched into our collective memories, though.

The fact that we still bust on each other 30 years later without spite and with fake bravado reminds us of all of our then-invincible, now-cherished youth together. And those two bad-asses who squared off that day? They became good friends and laugh about that showdown and reminisce about the Turkey Bowls while on one of their regular fishing trips together each year.

Rich McIlhenny is a lifelong Mt. Airy resident and a realtor with ReMax Services (www.richmachomes.com). He is a 2016 Philly.com Readers Choice Best Real Estate Agent Award Winner. Neil Nolen is a Mt. Airy native and lawyer who currently lives in Odessa, Ukraine.