For Dan Pino ’80, these words express not just a memory but capture the sense of nostalgia and camaraderie that defined his time at Sacred Heart. They capture the spirit of a generation and the deep ties formed on and off the field. For Dan, the memories behind ‘The Funston Boys’ keep shaping how he views friendship and the town and school he remains proud of today.

When Dan, a Noe Valley native, reflects on his Sacred Heart days, a flood of tactile memories comes to mind. He remembered the pep rallies, homecomings, and the athletic events he attended at home and on the road for the Irish. As a baseball player and Cheerleader, he helped establish a legacy of school spirit, which garnered many Spirit Trophies. “The coveted WCAL Spirit Trophy was bequeathed to us after 1980 because we won it each season. We were pretty original and stretched the boundaries (both home and away) as far as Brother Arnold and Albert would let us with their patented stare,” Dan explained enthusiastically. Off the field, moments like post-game gatherings at the Marina Greens and even the weekend disciplinary assembly in the Brother Arnold Stewart, FSC Gym became part of the common story that defined his class.

Though he admits he didn’t always thrive academically, the influence of his teachers and coaches left a significant impression on him. Dan spoke highly of his former teachers, such as Tim Burke ’70, Dr. George Cosmos ’60, Hank Mireles ’66, Earl Hargrove ’52, Gary Flinders, Bill Krueger, and Emil Moy, “[They] never gave up on me and instilled in me not to underestimate my abilities, values, and potential. Much of the encouragement they gave me never materialized until college and graduate school.” That belief was reinforced beyond the classroom on the athletic fields for Dan with Jerry Phillips and Steve Franceschi. “The hard-earned wisdom between the lines, coupled with the way they treated me outside of sport, I carry to this day,” he said. Dan spoke about the Christian Brothers, including Br. Arnold Stewart, FSC, and Brother R. Albert, FSC, as the foundation of his Lasallian education at Sacred Heart. Together, these mentors instilled lessons that went well beyond academics and athletics, forming how he approached relationships, responsibility and resilience.

Dan’s most important takeaway from his Sacred Heart experience: never doubt your abilities, your values, or your potential, be respectful, be friendly, and be able to laugh at yourself when the situation demands it. He says high school was an environment that fostered kids' mental and social development and put them in situations that encouraged adaptation. 

Dan was a three-time All-WCAL selection, and his connection to the history of Sacred Heart baseball remains especially strong. “...Two Hall of Famers, National League MVP, countless players at the collegiate and minor league levels, our legacy was grounded in the playing fields of The City and came to fruition at Funston,” said Dan. He describes a “Sacred Heart way” built on continuity, attention to detail, and pride in legacy. There was an expectation that you had to go through the Irish to win a championship. Practices were intense, expectations were high, and the culture demanded excellence. Yet what stands out most is not just success, but the lifelong tie among teammates. “Our success on the field was a byproduct of where we grew up, how we came together on Ellis Street, and most importantly, playing baseball at Sacred Heart didn’t define us, but foreshadowed how we continue to live and share our lives today.”

It was at a celebration honoring the 1978 WCAL Championship team, the last team from the City to win an outright WCAL varsity baseball title, at last year’s Bruce-Mahoney baseball game, that a few of Dan's fellow teammates told stories about their pasts that inspired him to start writing them down. Dan explained, “Not as if this group of characters needed a platform, but on a slow afternoon, thoughts and laughter were shared, not of championship banter but individual moments at practice, memories of events at school, and recognition of the legacy of championships running through Funston (Moscone) that we were part of.” Additionally, losing a fellow SH baseball alum and good friend, John Farrell ’69, further drove home for Dan the importance of recording these memories before it was too late. Out of these reflections, the poem, 'The Funston Boys' was created, a celebration for the people of Sacred Heart and San Francisco from the 60s and 70s.

Whether he is reminiscing about their championship seasons, officiating iconic rivalry games in both baseball and basketball, or catching up on life with old friends, Dan keeps Sacred Heart close to his heart. His time at Ellis Street and the beliefs of perseverance and traditions he learned there continue to guide the way he approaches life. Dan encourages students to work hard, value their friends, and not take themselves too seriously. What may be meaningless in the moment, he says, may later become beloved memories.

“...the memories remain of what we made of it.  As years have passed, we have no regrets, a Sacred Heart education, friendships, and a legacy we kept.  We set the example for future generations to poise, but I warn you, you're carrying the bags of The Funston Boys.”

Dan is a retired transportation planner for both the City of Boston and San Francisco and had a long career as a baseball and basketball official.  Dan and his wife, Lisa, proud grandparents, currently reside just outside Denver, CO. 

The Funston Boys

By Dan Pino ’80 (edited by Tad Tassone ’69)

Ode to Sacred Heart Baseball in the 60s and 70s

Cronkite and Van Amburg ruled the air, and social media was hanging with friends on house stairs. Caen, KSFO, KYA, and the Green Sheet colored our world – the Catholic Monitor was the last word.

Raised in The City: Excelsior, Sunset, Mission, Richmond, EV, and more. North Beach, Viz Valley, the tough side of the Marina, to some’s lore. Provincial, parochial, you had your choice, but it was baseball through CYO, PAL, and Flame that brought us joy.

– It was this, the providence and legacy of The Funston Boys.

Hardened by parents gone through Depression and War, we were disciplined in grammar school under a nun’s scorn.  We learned how to fight and take a joke, yet soothed our egos with a hard roll and Coke. For it was these lessons we learned on the playgrounds, schoolyards, and streets of our youth that would set us apart from those we would compete.

We first came together on Franklin and Ellis, where Br. Conrad passed out Tickets to Heaven. We entered each year snot-faced with one agenda: to make it to spring without detention.  A Lasallian education was our parents' quest, but wearing the jersey with “Irish” we coveted above all the rest.

It was the legacy of Hall of Famers, MVPs, and league titles that gave us joy, all responsibilities of The Funston Boys.

We practiced harder than anything we did that day at school; the field between Chestnut and Bay was our rule. Our practices were succinctly disciplined and measured, without being idle. Infielders/outfielders, pitchers, invested, for it was bunt-defense, pick-offs, and situations that earned us titles.

We joked, laughed, fought each other at times, because championships came through Funston, we all knew, just as the Presidio 5 o’clock cannon indicated practice was few.

Murray, Koeppen, and Fran did all they could; now it was up to the Funston Boys to follow through. We made our way home along the 22, 45, and 47 with transfers at the J, K, L, M, and N to every part of the City we dwelled.  As morning horizons came, the westside in fog, the east side in sun, we rose together as few kids were inclined.  For it was GAME DAY for the Irish nine.

We left home with schoolbooks and homework in hand, stuffed in a duffle, with our uniforms alone, neatly packed without ruffle.

We wore ties on game days, some years with jerseys. We did our best to stay out of the way of Ellis, Arnold, and wayward teachers riding mopeds on Willow.

We recalled how plus and minus sheets from the previous week were learned lessons we may or may not repeat.

One o’clock couldn’t come too soon; we rushed down Franklin to our opponents' doom.  Gaggero and Masone had the field ready; now it was up to the Funston Boys to follow through.

I never remember a better view than Funston Playground on a sunny game-day afternoon.  Pac Heights rises to the south, Bay whitecaps to the north, the downtown skyline beyond center, a beautiful site.

Retired Italian men sunning themselves above the third base stands, with an occasional drunk passed out on the dugout stairs. We took the dugout with access to the locker, leaving the other to our opponents with excrement to discover.

Our pregame infield was months in the making, poetic and lyrical without the music. Fans climbed the stands to take a seat, first parents, then friends, and the kids, the next generation, all wanting to be. The team welcomed the recognition, but it was the girls in catholic plaid pleats who drew most of our attention.

Our games warranted the umpiring of Louie Anti, Patch, Maloney, Kaproasch, or Palmer, a rock pile in jest, if ever there was one.  The players took the field; Sam Levin announced and told stories of them all, to the bewilderment of opponents, sitting in awe. A pregame prayer on the mound was a must, with caps in hand, Lady of Victory, we shouted, pray for us. As we went to our positions, the Ghost of Irish past stuck in our ear, whispering to the Funston Boys another championship year….

Epilogue

As the sun over the Presidio settles and the 5 o’clock cannon of our lives bores, we look back at a time when first to third wasn’t so much a chore. We usually won, but we weren’t perfect. We had plenty of thrills, with orange balls to prove it. But there was no question, championships ran through Funston, and every one of us knew it.

A tragedy renamed our field for posterity, but the memories remain of what we made of it.   As years have passed, we have no regrets, a Sacred Heart education, friendships, and a legacy we kept.  We set the example for future generations to poise, but I warn you, you're carrying the bags of The Funston Boys.

St. John Baptist DeLaSalle Pray For Us, Live Jesus in our hearts, FOREVER