The 49ers, Lions and an unchanging halftime score

I know the halftime score of the 49ers-Detroit Lions playoff game in 1957. I kept giving it to phone-callers years after it had been played.  

No internet in those days, very little TV coverage of the NFL, but far too many people involved in sports arguments, mostly at bars, a few at homes. 

And on the night desk at the San Francisco Chronicle, having arrived in 1965 with dreams of creating stories, was a relatively young guy consigned to the night desk, writing headlines and answering questions from callers.  

The most frequent of which had to do with the halftime score of that Niners-Lions contest. Which was 24-7, Niners.

Before, moments into the second half it was 27-7, and should have been even more. Sorry. I don’t believe in should-haves or could-haves.

Callers wouldn’t believe the score 50 years ago, maybe they still don’t. In sports, it either happens or it doesn’t happen. For the Niners in 1957, it didn’t happen.

I’ll cut to the chase. The underdog  Lions won 31-27. Heartbreak by the Bay. Explanations (excuses?) by the barrel. A region in dismay.`  

The Warriors ascended for a decade. The Giants won three World Series. Still deep down, historically (and hysterically), no franchise has been as popular as the Niners, who were born here in 1946, and never left, if you don’t include a slide down the Peninsula to Santa Clara.=

They owned the place. And also the legacy of disappointment.

Now there are Super Bowl trophies in the Niners offices and frequent references to Joe Montana, Ronnie Lott, Steve Young, Jerry Rice and others who helped win those trophies. 

Back then in the 1950s however, they were in a constant struggle to break the bonds, get over the barriers, and finally prove they belonged. For 30 minutes of what was called the Western Conference Championship, they definitely belonged.

This one, as all Niners home games, at the time, was at old Kezar Stadium located on the southeast corner of Golden Gate Park where there were so many local politicians invited, the late sports columnist Jim Murray said it was the only press box in the country to which you had to be elected.

The Niners had their “Million-Dollar Backfield” of Y.A. Tittle at quarterback, Joe Perry, John Henry Johnson and Hugh McElhenny (money was different then, but those guys were outstanding) and quickly dominated.

The placekicker was Gordy Soltau, whose son, Mark, was a sports writing (and phone-answering) colleague of mine, and was able to watch the Niners do what they couldn’t when his father played.

What happened the second half that day, Dec. 27, 1957, depends on whose words you find credible after a game Niners fans—they weren’t yet nicknamed “The Faithful”— found disagreeable.  

Only a thin board separated the two locker rooms at Kezar. The Lions players contended they heard the Niners whooping it up at half as if the game were over. That’s all Detroit needed to get inspired and get in front

Niners players, including Gordy Soltau, denied the charge. Whatever, the Lions rallied and the Niners came unglued.

And the halftime score was 24-7. No phone calls, please.