I was incredibly shocked and saddened to learn of the sudden passing of Pittsburgh Steelers icon Franco Harris. In fact, when I first read about it while perusing an article on Pittsburgh Hockey Now, I thought it was some sort of macabre and ill-conceived joke, given the juxtaposition to the 50th anniversary of The Immaculate Reception.
Just the other day I’d watched Franco describe his part in arguably the most amazing play in the history of professional football. Certainly the most amazing in Steelers history. He appeared hale, hearty and clear-minded.
A painful reminder of the brevity and fragility of life.
Franco’s unfortunate and untimely passing takes me back to my youth and evokes so many memories. In a rare departure from hockey, I thought I’d share some.
I’d just begun to follow pro football as a kid in the late 1960s. The Steelers hired Bill Austin, a former assistant to the legendary Vince Lombardi in Green Bay, as their new head coach in 1966. I was excited about our chances. That season my dad took me to the one and only Steelers game I’ve ever attended. Sunday, November 13. We beat the St. Louis Cardinals, 30-9, at Pitt Stadium.
Then my parents bought me Tex Maule’s book The Game, a detailed history of pro football, as a Christmas present in 1967. I poured over the pages, memorizing every dramatic phrase and photo. It’s safe to say the book served as a blueprint for my very first book, Total Penguins, published some 43 years later.
Alas, rooting for the Steelers in those days was a lot like cheering for the Penguins pre-Mario. As the Steelers sagged from 5-8-1 in ’66 to 4-9-1 in ’67 and then ‘2-11-1 in ’68, my misplaced hopes for respectability vanished.
The Rooneys fired Austin after the ’68 fiasco and tried to lure Penn State giant Joe Paterno to the Steel City. Joe said no, so the Steelers brought in an obscure assistant from Baltimore named Chuck Noll who nobody outside of the football world had ever heard of.
If only we’d known the glory that lie ahead.
We won our first game under our new coach to start the ’69 season, defeating the Lions, 16-13, on fullback Warren Bankston’s end around in the waning moments. The husky rookie from Tulane was so excited he flung the ball into the stands.
I was excited, too.
Then we lost 13 in a row. But Noll and the Rooneys, Dan and Art, Jr., had a plan.
It took a few seasons, but gradually the nucleus of a powerhouse began to take shape. Super scout Bill Nunn played a huge part in the construction, mining the small black colleges for talent while other teams drafted from predominantly white schools.
Mean Joe Greene (North Texas State University), L.C. Greenwood (Arkansas AM&N), Ernie Holmes (Texas Southern University) and Dwight White (East Texas State University) would meld into arguably the greatest and most ferocious defensive line in NFL history. Mel Blount (Southern University) and Glenn Edwards (Florida A&M) formed the hub of a physical secondary. Frank Lewis (Grambling) and Ron Shanklin (North Texas State University) provided a pair of deep threats at wide receiver. Quarterback Terry Bradshaw arrived as a heralded No. 1 overall pick from Louisiana Tech.
But I digress.
Although the Steelers went 5-9 in ’70 and 6-8 in ‘71, you could sense they were primed to turn the corner. However, they lacked a few key elements, including a power running back who could shoulder the load. Leading up to the ’72 NFL Draft, Nunn and Noll favored University of Houston standout Robert Newhouse. The Rooneys overruled them. The Steelers took Harris with the 13th overall pick.
A curious choice to say the least. Although Franco had enjoyed a solid collegiate career at Penn State, averaging 5.3 yards per carry, Lydell Mitchell was the feature back. However, at 6’2” and 230 pounds and fast to boot, Franco certainly had the physical tools to be a star.
Still, the Steelers weren’t sure what they had in Harris, who had a tendency to look bad in practice. That is, until Franco took a handoff and bolted 76 yards for a touchdown during a preseason game against Atlanta. After that, there weren’t any doubts.
Harris enjoyed an incredible rookie season, rushing for 1055 yards and 10 touchdowns while averaging a Jim Brown-esque 5.6 yards per carry. Powered by their star rookie, the Steelers barreled through the ’72 season with an 11-3 record to qualify for the postseason for the first time since 1962 and only the second time in the team’s 40-year history.
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Aside from a couple of isolated incidents, I don’t profess to have ESP or clairvoyance. However, on one particular day I did. Of course it involved Franco.
Saturday, December 23, 1972. The Steelers were facing the hated Oakland Raiders in a divisional playoff game at Three Rivers Stadium. Home games weren’t televised back then. I was at South Hills Village with some buddies and decided to duck into a Radio Shack to catch the closing minutes of the game.
I quickly discovered the Steelers were trailing 7-6 with 22 seconds left. Fourth-and-10 on our 40-yard line.
Then it hit me…literally like a bolt from the blue.
We’re going to win.
I told the woman standing next to me. Then I turned my attention to Jack Fleming’s call on the radio…
“Last chance for the Steelers. Bradshaw, trying to get away. And his pass, is, broken up by Tatum. Picked off! Franco Harris has it! And he’s over!”
It took a moment for me to register what happened. Then…sheer bedlam and high-fives all around…followed by the purest joy.
The Steelers’ mighty Super Bowl dynasty began that day with that play. Before Franco’s hustling miracle shoestring catch and ramble to the end zone, the Steelers never won anything. After that day, they rarely lost.
Thanks Franco. May you rest in peace.
