My three older siblings — brother Jim and sisters Cathy (middle) and Anne. Cathy is married now to husband Joe Fama and lives in San Bruno.
By John Murphy
Other than my parents, my first real glimpse of success was of my oldest sibling, Cathy.
My best times with Cathy came when I was a pre-teen when she’d take my buddy Keith Larsen and me to University of San Francisco basketball games. We’d watch stars like Dennis Black and Pete Cross do their thing, then repair to Front Room Pizza for a pie.
Cathy studied nursing at USF and I saw her inner toughness as she poured over her thick nursing books, yellow highlighter in hand. When I asked her what she chose to highlight she said, “Anything I don’t understand.”
Once my big sis became a nurse, I recognized her generosity as she bought me thoughtful and expensive gifts – a wristwatch on my birthday and a portable typewriter to write my newspaper stories.
Cathy still followed USF basketball after graduation. And in 1971 or ’72 she took me to a game against Santa Clara University at San Jose Civic Auditorium. This was a big deal. The schools are bitter rivals and my brother Jim, then an SCU student, would be there.
My sis wanted it to be a special night, so she whisked me to San Jose’s 5-spot Drive-In. It’s now a Mexican restaurant but back then was like something out of American Graffiti. It was all good until it took an hour to get our chili burgers. Ah, well.
Then it was game time. Spirits were high. Two revved-up cheering sections. Nine or 10 fistfights. And the Dons and Broncos battling.
San Francisco dominated most of the game as its dandy of a coach, Bob Gaillard, watched. The Dons led by 10 or so with 3-4 minutes left.
Then the unthinkable. Santa Clara started fouling, USF missed free throws and the Broncos roared to victory.
Don fans were downcast as we filed out. Then we ran into my brother who may have gloated a bit.
Cathy seethed. It wasn’t her night. But I left knowing that anybody who’d go through all that for me, has her heart in the right place. Always has.

