The Pro Bowl, long entrenched near the appealing shores of Hawaii, debuted in its new home on Tuesday: the heralded asphalt of Moscone Center?

This is the home of auto shows and plastic surgeon conventions. Where San Franciscans got our COVID shots. Before 49ers running back Christian McCaffrey and Dallas Cowboys wide receiver Ceedee Lamb ran half-hearted post routes during Pro Bowl practice on Monday, the last weekday visitors were a group of oncologists for the Gastrointestinal Cancers Symposium.

How do they play flag football in a concrete tomb with nary a patch of real grass in sight? Will players be stoked about competing in a convention center named after our assassinated mayor, that was previously best known as the place where Walter Mondale accepted the 1984 Democratic presidential nomination?

The NFL, which changed to flag football three years ago, has moved the Pro Bowl (now called the Pro Bowl Games) out of stadiums entirely and started its basement-of-an-exposition-center era. The final question is the most important: Will it be fun?

I head inside to answer these questions, but first run into the 20th century poet Too Short, a rapper and lifetime Oakland resident, who seems only slightly less confused than I am. 

"You want the truth?" he says. "It never should have happened."

I take an escalator to the center's basement, and a field appears. It's just 50 yards long, covered by arching concrete trusses and has dystopian subterranean-bunker vibes. This, I think, is what football will look like during our nuclear winter.

But I'm immediately struck by the star power. The last time I was here, for a comic book convention, a surly-looking Lou Ferrigno was signing autographs. Warming up on the sidelines I see most of the first-round picks from my fantasy football league: Lamb, Rams receiver Puka Nacua and Lions receiver Amon-Ra St. Brown are all taking passes from Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Jalen Hurts.

I get in line to talk to McCaffrey, waiting for a Nickelodeon film crew who asks him to draw SpongeBob Squarepants. "Would you rather be in Hawaii right now?" I ask. He smiles, pauses, and eludes my question. 

"San Fran's home, and being in front of home fans is fantastic," McCaffrey says. "If they don't have it in San Fran though? Hawaii would be nice."

Forgiving the double "San Fran," I move on to Steve Young, who played in seven Hawaii Pro Bowls, and is coaching this year's AFC team. 

He's diplomatic too, but makes a much stronger argument: the case of a beat-up former running quarterback who would rather not see players get roughed up in a game with nothing at stake. A non-contact game in Moscone Center? Sounds great to Young.

"They'd lure us in to go to Hawaii, and … the biggest beatings I've ever taken were in the Pro Bowl," Young said. "My best friend Brent Jones went over with me, and he blew his knee out."

This isn't Moscone's first football party. When the 49ers won Super Bowl XIX at Stanford Stadium in 1985, free-spending owner Eddie DeBartolo Jr. staged a pre-game party at the convention center, filling rowboats with ice and shrimp in front of a faux Fisherman's Wharf backdrop.

I don't see that level of production value yet in the "Super Bowl LX Experience," which takes up several convention halls, but as Seattle and New England fans filter in, there will be places to kick an extra point, watch the great moments in NFL history, get a photo with the Vince Lombardi Trophy and test your 40-yard dash.

The Pro Bowl field feels a little less fun.There's less seating than many local high school venues, with metal bleachers at both end zones and mostly camera equipment in between. The arched ceiling is higher than I remember, but not quite enough for a booming punt to clear. 

And there's the petite size, as if hobbits will be playing here instead of some of the world's most massive professional athletes. When San Francisco 49ers offensive lineman Trent Williams (6-foot-5, 320 pounds) walks by, this subterranean fake grass looks more appropriate for lawn bowling than flag football.

As the game starts, the rules seem … complicated. There's no kicking and the only way to get a first down is to cross the 25-yard line. The players seem stressed about none of this. Two NFC starters, Dallas quarterback Dak Prescott and Arizona tight end Trey McBride, play their first snaps wearing bucket hats.

Yellow referee flags fly frequently, for rules the players don't seem to know exist. (There's no crying in baseball, and apparently no blocking allowed in flag football.) The highlights are a touchdown catch by husky Denver lineman Garett Bolles and the halftime corgi races. Final score: NFC 66, AFC 52.

During practice Monday, Joe Flacco, 41, and joining his first Pro Bowl after 18 seasons in the league, shared his very positive reviews of San Francisco. The Cincinnati Bengals quarterback took his family to Pier 39 before the game and had plans to visit Chinatown and do the most San Francisco thing in 2026: ride in a Waymo. 

"I think this city is cool," he said. "There's something about it that reminds me of the East Coast a little bit."

But back upstairs, where the rooms have windows, Too Short lamented his lost vacation. He went to at least two Hawaii Pro Bowls as a performer, where he ate and partied well, leaving Bay Bridge traffic and other Bay Area cares behind. 

"I'm all for the new," he said. "But I'm just saying as an old head, we miss Hawaii."

This article originally published at Moscone Center's odd NFL era kicks off with Pro Bowl, corgi races and no kicking.