Michael Thomas Leibrandt: Love and table tennis

Like all over America, life was hard around Valentine’s Day of 1934 in Depression-era Philadelphia. And like all aspects of life that were directly affected by both the economic and employment situations in and around the city, leisure and sports were greatly impacted as well.

Gone were the record-setting Frankford Yellow Jackets who just a few years prior had won an NFL Championship in 1926 and folded as a franchise in part due to the Depression in 1931. Now in 1933 we had the Eagles. In their first season, Bert Bell’s team were beaten soundly by the New York Giants at the Polo Grounds in their first game ever 56–0. Gone was the early heyday of Penn Football, winning seven National Championships beginning in 1894.

And gone were the legendary days of the Philadelphia Athletics that waned with their last World Series in 1931 and their last Championship in 1930. Across town, the Phillies had already been in existence for nearly five decades but had only one World Series appearance to show for it — a 4–1 series loss at the hands of the Boston Red Sox. Sitting in those stands watching the Athletics at Connie Mack Stadium on Lehigh Avenue — cleverly utilizing a well-timed restroom break instead of the exit in order to take in a double-header at Connie Mack Stadium — was my grandpop.

Today, at the corner of 15th and Walnut at Spin Philadelphia, one can have an enjoyable Olympic-Grade table tennis experience, but in 1934 places like these were nowhere near as plentiful. Difficult economic times made Philadelphians all over the city look for low-cost leisure entertainment. Many — like grandpop — found it in the pool tables and table-tennis tables located in Philadelphia’s taverns. By then, table-tennis was gaining popularity in America like pool. By the 1940s, you could find a table and a game at Philadelphia Watering Holes around the city.  

As a kid, I was always hearing stories in the family of how grandpop would warm-up on those very tables — pretending as though he couldn’t hold a racket or return a serve. Then, when the money hit the table, that 100-mph backhand laid the competition to waste.

We’ve all got a talent that we hope gets noticed and grandpop’s sure did. By 1933, he was competing in recognized tournaments both in and around Philadelphia. The following year, he captured a trophy and even had a match with an Internationally Ranked Player who was visiting Philadelphia at the time.

Even in his later years, a ping-pong table sat in the corner of grandpop’s recreation room. If you asked him for a game, he’d gently get up from that leather chair that he reclined in on weekends and folded his newspaper like only a lifelong railroad man could, walk over and send a table-tennis ball past your head before you could even blink. Then, he’d calmly sit back down in his chair and commenced reading his paper.

Although one was scheduled for February of 1934, Grandpop never had another formal match, either with a regional or international opponent. The time had come to give attention to what would be his great love for the next 45 years. He had already scheduled a date with my grandmother. 

After all — it was Valentine’s Day.

Michael Thomas Leibrandt lives and works in Abington Township, Pennsylvania.