Ray Didinger later recounted that Steve Van Buren saw the snow outside his bedroom, assumed the game would be postponed and went back to bed.
On December 19, 1948, the Philadelphia Eagles were supposed to play the Chicago Cardinals for the NFL championship at Shibe Park. But the storm had made an ordinary trip across the region difficult, and Van Buren assumed the game would be postponed. His car was snowed in. As he later told Didinger, a call from coach Greasy Neale made clear that the championship was still on. (philadelphiaeagles.com)
Van Buren then had to reach the ballpark without the car. The precise first leg of his trip varies in later accounts, but the essential journey is clear: public transit carried him toward Philadelphia, and he completed the trip on foot. He made it to the game. Didinger reports a bus to 69th Street; a later Philadelphia Inquirer account describes a Red Arrow trolley. Both describe a trip by transit and on foot, rather than by car. (philadelphiaeagles.com)
There is no need to turn that trip into a last-second rescue. The surviving accounts do not establish that Van Buren arrived just before kickoff, or how long the journey took. What they do establish is striking enough. The Eagles’ most important runner had expected to stay home. Before he could help win the franchise’s first NFL championship, he had to find another way to get to work.
The game waiting for him was a rematch with unusually sharp stakes. A year earlier, the Cardinals had beaten the Eagles 28–21 for the title at Chicago’s Comiskey Park. Van Buren had struggled to keep his footing on the frozen field. Philadelphia returned to the championship game in 1948 after a 9–2–1 regular season, with another chance against the same opponent. This time the weather threatened to interfere before Van Buren even reached the stadium. (media.eagles.1rmg.com)
He had joined the Eagles in 1944 and become central to their rise. Philadelphia won three consecutive division titles from 1947 through 1949; the middle season offered an opportunity to turn a return trip to the championship game into the club’s first title. Yet on the morning of that game, Van Buren’s established value to the Eagles could do nothing to free his car from the snow. (profootballhof.com)
Didinger’s account, based on Van Buren’s own recollection, traces his route by bus to 69th Street, then by the Market Street line to City Hall and the Broad Street subway to Lehigh Avenue, followed by a seven-block walk. A later Philadelphia Inquirer account describes the first leg as a Red Arrow trolley rather than a bus. The differing details are a reminder that the journey is known chiefly through accounts given years after the fact. They do not diminish its central point: Van Buren thought the game was off, learned it was on and had to make his way to Shibe Park through the storm. (philadelphiaeagles.com)
Postponement was more than a notion in one player’s bedroom. Accounts differ over who favored playing and who wanted the game called off, but they agree that the question arose. The decision was to go ahead. Ticket sales did not guarantee a crowd could reach the park: records distinguish 36,309 paid admissions from 28,864 people actually in attendance. (profootballhof.com)
Those who got inside saw a field on which the weather shaped play as surely as either team’s defense. Snow covered the ground heavily enough that the usual measuring chains could not be used; ropes tied to stakes marked the sidelines. Across the entire game, the teams completed only five of 23 passes. Philadelphia gained just seven net passing yards. (media.eagles.1rmg.com)
That left little room for a conventional picture of championship football. A drive could end without a completed pass, and one lost ball might matter more than a long afternoon of field position. For Van Buren, the contrast with the previous title game was personal. He later remembered Shibe Park’s footing as better than the frozen surface in Chicago, even though the snow made it hard to see. Reaching the field had been one problem. Finding a way to run on it was another. (philadelphiaeagles.com)
For three quarters, neither team scored. Van Buren carried the ball repeatedly, but the Eagles did not turn those efforts into points. Philadelphia and Chicago remained tied at zero as the game moved toward its final period. The runner who might have missed the contest was present and working; the championship still needed an opening.
It came from the Cardinals, deep in their own territory. Late in the third quarter, Elmer Angsman fumbled at the Chicago 17-yard line. Eagles lineman Frank “Bucko” Kilroy recovered. Suddenly, in a game that had resisted every scoring attempt, Philadelphia had the ball close enough to make one short possession decisive. (media.eagles.1rmg.com)
Van Buren’s touchdown is the lasting image of that possession, but it was not its whole story. Bosh Pritchard, Joe Muha and quarterback Tommy Thompson advanced the ball before it reached Van Buren at the five-yard line. Right tackle Al Wistert opened the hole. Van Buren ran through it for the touchdown early in the fourth quarter. (media.eagles.1rmg.com)
The five yards completed a four-play drive built on a recovery, three preceding gains and a block. They also produced the game’s only touchdown. The Eagles won 7–0. (media.eagles.1rmg.com)
Van Buren finished with 98 yards on 26 carries, a substantial day under conditions that gave the running game an outsized share of the burden. But the last five yards carried a different weight from the other 93. In a scoreless championship game, a Cardinals mistake had presented the Eagles with their clearest chance. Philadelphia’s offense moved from the recovery to the goal line without wasting it, and Van Buren finished the job. (media.eagles.1rmg.com)
It is tempting to tell the day as though the storm existed to test one player: it blocked his car, he overcame it, and then he won the title. The record supports a better story. Van Buren’s presence mattered enormously, but so did Kilroy’s recovery, the gains that preceded the touchdown and Wistert’s block. The weather did not yield to a single star. It narrowed the game until a short, collective sequence could decide it.
The same restraint makes the trip to the park more remarkable, not less. Van Buren did not need to arrive with seconds to spare for his morning to matter. He had been ready to miss a game he believed would not be played. Neale’s call changed his plans; transit and a walk got him to Shibe Park; his teammates helped put the ball at the five. Each step was necessary before he could make the run for which the day is remembered.
Philadelphia’s victory began a run of consecutive NFL championships, with another title following in 1949. The 1948 game stands apart for its severe conditions and its small final score. It also remains an unusually human account of how a championship comes together. Before there could be an Eagles touchdown in the snow, there had to be an Eagles runner on the field. (profootballhof.com)
That is the other meaning of Van Buren’s journey. A championship can turn on a fumble at the 17 and a hole opened at the five. On this December day, it also depended on a man looking out at a storm, being told the game was still on, and finding a way across town.
Sources & further reading
- www.philadelphiaeagles.com — www.philadelphiaeagles.com
- media.eagles.1rmg.com — media.eagles.1rmg.com
- www.profootballhof.com — www.profootballhof.com
- www.profootballresearchers.com — www.profootballresearchers.com
- www.inquirer.com — www.inquirer.com