Steelers' dynasty

Fifty years ago last weekend I was drafted into an army. No, the army wasn't Uncle Sam's but rather it belonged to Franco Harris and the people of Pittsburgh, where I grew up. It was Franco's Italian Army and was formed to embrace one of the true heroes of the Pittsburgh Steelers' 70's dynasty. Franco has been on my mind a lot in the past week. Days away from the 50th anniversary of his Immaculate Reception against the Oakland Raiders, Franco died at age 72. At the anniversary this past week his "32" jersey was retired by the club. The Immaculate Reception was voted the greatest play in NFL history by fans at the NFL's 100th anniversary two years ago. For those not familiar it occurred at the end of the Steelers' first playoff game in 1972 when quarterback Terry Bradshaw threw a long pass to running back John "Frenchy" Fuqua. Raiders safety Jack Tatum laid a hard and legal hit on Fuqua as the ball arrived to him, and the ball ricocheted away from them both. Harris, trailing Fuqua down the field, was in position to scoop the ball into his hands just inches away from it hitting the turf and as he maintained his balance he shed would-be tacklers into the end zone. The touchdown gave the Steelers the victory. I remember watching the play unfold like it was yesterday. As a sophomore in high school, I was working my first real job at Kmart. While my duties there eventually included every position within the store, that day I was working as the electronics salesman. I was less than happy when the work schedule was posted the week before. I wanted desperately to watch the Steelers that afternoon. I knew, however, it could have been worse. Instead of electronics, I could have been running a register. Still, with four days to go until Christmas I figured the electronics department was going to be busy with shoppers. Normally electronics was a good assignment. It was the one and only position in the store where commission was paid on sales. That day I was busy leading up to the game and I was smiling with each sale as I saw the commission dollars increasing. Once the game began, however, shopper volume at the store dropped considerably, which was just fine with me. Those who were at the store eventually migrated to electronics where every television was playing the game. I do remember being pulled away toward the end of the game by a shopper who needed help selecting a clock radio. I chuckle today in a world of smartwatches and clocks, but 50 years ago the clock radio was a "big" item and this shopper couldn't make up her mind. Patiently I answered her every question and showed her the features of different radios, but inwardly I wished I could return to the game. She eventually settled on a Motorola. I remember because I had to go back in the stock room to retrieve one for her. After writing up the sale I returned my attention to the game with but minutes remaining. I remember that with each play either a "ohh" or "aww" would rise from the gathering. There definitely was a tension within the department. Each of us was hopeful but with each play and no score and losing 7-6 at this point, our optimism was fading fast. Then with 22 seconds left in the game and on a fourth and 10 play, the Immaculate Reception occurred. Bedlam and celebration ensued throughout Pittsburgh, including there at Kmart. There were high-fives. There were hugs. There was jumping up and down. And there was an announcement I made over the store's intercom informing shoppers that the Steelers had just won their first playoff game. It was a game, and a play, I've never forgotten. Franco went on to have a great career in Pittsburgh and was drafted into the NFL Hall of Fame. He was a great ambassador of the game and the city. That day gave birth to "Steeler Nation," a phenomenon that would continue decades later with the drafting of a quarterback from Findlay by the name of Ben Roethlisberger. All Pittsburgh's success over the past 50 years can be traced to that one incredible play in 1972. Thanks, Franco, for the memories.