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.

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.

» READ MORE: He’d never preached before. But in 1990, Jack Hibbard became the Phillies chaplain.

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.”

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.”

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).

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

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.)

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.”

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.

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?”

“We all came from small neighborhoods, 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.”

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.

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.

» READ MORE: Grieving Roman Catholic coach and his family find solace in their football community

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.”

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.”

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.

» READ MORE: Meet Allison Stoutland, a children’s book author and ‘Mama Bear’ to the Eagles

“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.

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.”