December 23, 1972: The Immaculate Reception

Note: When I wrote this, months in advance, I had no idea that Franco Harris would die just 2 days before the anniversary. By all accounts, he seemed to be in good health for his age.

December 23, 1972, 50 years ago: The Pittsburgh Steelers play their 1st Playoff game, in their 40th season. And for most of the game, it wasn't looking good.

They began play in 1933, with Art Rooney having founded them. But Art's love of football far exceeded his knowledge of it. In 1947, they finished in a 1st place tie in the NFL Eastern Division with the Philadelphia Eagles, and lost a playoff. To this day, the NFL does not recognize this as an official Playoff game.

Finally, after a 1-13 season in 1969, Art's sons, Dan and Art Jr., told dear old Dad to let them run the team from now on. And in just 3 seasons, they had built the team into AFC Central Division Champions.

Al Davis ran the Oakland Raiders, and had built them into AFL Champions in 1967. But they lost Super Bowl II, then lost the 1968 AFC Championship Game to the New York Jets. By 1972, they were dominating the AFC Western Division, but hadn't won a Super Bowl yet.

And so, on Saturday afternoon, December 23, 1972, Davis' Silver and Black marched into Three Rivers Stadium in Pittsburgh to face the Rooneys' Black and Gold. For a game with such an epic ending, it was not good theater most of the way. The 1st half ended scoreless. Roy Gerela kicked a field goal early in the 2nd half, but it remained 3-0 at the end of the 3rd quarter. Gerela kicked another field goal early in the 4th quarter, but the Steelers couldn't put the ball in the end zone, so it remained 6-0 as the clock wound down.

Daryle Lamonica, known as the Mad Bomber, struggled in the 1st half, and coach John Madden replaced him with Ken Stabler, the Alabama lefthander known as the Snake. With 1:17 to go, Stabler ran for 30 yards to get into the end zone. George Blanda, the Raiders' ageless backup quarterback and regular kicker, nailed the extra point, and the Raiders had a 7-6 lead.

The Steelers did not yet have a reputation as the kind of team that could win this kind of game. And Pittsburgh fans, who had seen the Pirates win the World Series the year before, were not used to glory from their football team. The 50,327 fans inside Three Rivers figured the game was lost.

Among them was Art Rooney. "The Chief" his suite and got into an elevator, to go down to the locker room to congratulate the Raiders and console his team. So he never saw the play that changed the course of his team's history.

Quarterback Terry Bradshaw, who had been the top pick in the 1970 NFL Draft, had a difficult relationship, not just with head coach Chuck Noll, but with the Pittsburgh fans. He hadn't yet lived up to their hopes. Now, he had gotten the Steelers to their own 40 yard line. But it was 4th and 10, and there were only 22 seconds left, and the Steelers had no time-outs left.

Noll's intended play was "66 Circle Option," intended for Barry Pearson, a rookie who had been on the Steelers' bench all season long without being sent into a game. Now, he was -- his 1st professional play.

But just as no battle plan survives the first shot, Noll's play didn't last. Raiders Tony Cline and Horace Jones bore down on Bradshaw, and "the Blonde Bomber" from Louisiana had to scramble. He just got a throw off before getting clobbered by Cline and knocked to Three Rivers' artificial turf.

The ball got to the Raiders' 33-yard line, and it looked like Steeler running back John "Frenchy" Fuqua was going to catch it. But Raider safety Jack Tatum did what he so often did to potential receivers: He leveled him.

Big mistake: As with so many dirty soccer players, Tatum should have gone for the ball, not the opposing player. He could have intercepted it. Instead, the ball bounced off him, and went backwards to the Raider 43. And it almost hit the ground.

And for 49 years, the Raiders and their fans have insisted that the ball hit Fuqua first, which, under the rules of the time, would have made every Pittsburgh player an ineligible receiver. And they have insisted that the ball did hit the ground.

It didn't. Franco Harris, the Steelers' half-black, half-Italian rookie running back out of Penn State, saved it, and took off down the left sideline, and scored. It was 3:29 PM -- don't bet any Steeler fan old enough to remember.

Steeler radio announcer Jack Fleming said, with only slight exaggeration, "From out of nowhere came Franco Harris, riding a white stallion, heading up Franco's Italian Army, galloping into the sunset!"

Like Rooney, Bradshaw didn't see the play. He remembered being down on the ground, and hearing a tremendous roar going up: "I knew that this was a good sound. This was the sound of something good happening."

Fans came pouring onto the field, and had to be cleared, because there was still an extra point to kick, which Gerela did, and 5 seconds to play. The Raiders could do nothing with the ensuing kickoff, and the Steelers had won, 13-7.

Those '72 Raiders still insist they were robbed. It would take until the 1976 season for them to win a Super Bowl. But the Steelers didn't win immediately, either: This was the season in which the Miami Dolphins went undefeated. Eight days later, they came into Three Rivers -- at the time, home-field advantage for Conference Championships was on a rotating basis, not decided by record -- and beat the Steelers, on their way to winning Super Bowl VII.

But the Steelers would win Super Bowls IX, X, XIII and XIV. Harris was named the Most Valuable Player for IX, receiver Lynn Swann for X, and Bradshaw for XIII and XIV. The Raiders would win Super Bowls XI, XV and XVIII.

The catch became known as "The Immaculate Reception." What Art Rooney, a devout Irish Catholic, thought about that, only he knew. Others, noting that it was 2 days to Christmas, called it a Christmas Miracle.

But, along with Alan Ameche's overtime plunge to win the 1958 NFL Championship Game for the Baltimore Colts, Bart Starr's quarterback sneak to win the 1967 Championship Game (the Ice Bowl), and Dwight Clark's "The Catch" from Joe Montana to win the 1981 NFC Championship Game, it ranks as perhaps the greatest play in NFL history.

Another NFL Playoff game was played that day, with the Dallas Cowboys beating the San Francisco 49ers in another classic, 30-28 at Candlestick Park in San Francisco.

The next day, Christmas Eve, the Washington Redskins beat the Green Bay Packers, 16-3 at Robert F. Kennedy Stadium in Washington. And the Miami Dolphins beat the Cleveland Browns, 20-14 at the Orange Bowl in Miami.

The following week, New Year's Eve, saw the Conference Championships: Dolphins 21, Steelers 17 at Three Rivers; and Redskins 26, Cowboys 3 at RFK Stadium. On January 14, 1973, at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, the Dolphins completed their undefeated season, beating the Redskins, 14-7 in Super Bowl VII.

A-Roger, Billy Loes, Tatum & T.O.

So Alex Rodriguez is in a slump. Last night, he was 0-for-4.

Prior to that, he was 8-for-15 with 3 doubles. I'd love to have a "slump" like that. I'd even eat "Roger Maris eggs" to get into a slump like that!

Remember, from the movie 61*?

Mickey Mantle (played by Thomas Jane): What the hell's that?

Bob Cerv (Chris Bauer): That's Roger's special eggs.

Mickey: It looks disgusting.

Roger (Barry Pepper): Well, you don't have to have any, Bob.

Bob: Oh, thank you!

Mickey (looking at the dish): I'm sorry Roger, but I'm going to have to pass.

Roger: Mick, I'm telling ya, don't listen to Bob. Last few times I ate these, I hit home runs.

(Mickey shovels in a forkful.)

Roger: Sorry Bob, looks like somebody likes 'em.

Bob: You like 'em?

Mickey: No, they're shit! But I'm in a bit of a slump. I'll try anything.

Then, to the tune of the Ventures' 1960 smash-hit instrumental "Walk Don't Run" -- appropriate for a home run trot, I suppose -- we see Mickey hitting one out, and he says to Bob, coming up to bat next, "Love them eggs!" And the next scene is Bob eating them.

Actually, the comparison of A-Rod with Maris is apt. Not since Maris has a Yankee been pursued by the media and psycholanalyzed by the media and the fans like A-Rod, not even Reggie Jackson.

And when Roger hit Number 61, there were 23,000 fans in The Stadium, seemingly all of them in right field, hoping to catch the ball that a Sacramento restaurateur had a $5,000 bounty on.

Last night, John Sterling kept commenting on the attendance at Jacobs/Progressive Field -- 27,000, up from their average of 16,000, and remember when it was 43,000 every night for years? -- and how a certain area in left-center, by the corner of the bleachers, filled up whenever A-Rod came to the plate, and then scattered when his at-bat was over.

I don't care who steps up to the plate for the Yankees and gets the winning runs home, or who takes the mound for them and gets the big outs, as long as said runs and said outs come. And if A-Rod is getting it done with singles, doubles, walks and good defense, that's fine with me.

*

Billy Loes, a pitcher with the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1950s, has died. The native of Long Island City, Queens was 80.

To use a modern term, he was a flake, or a head case. But often a good pitcher. He once won 13 games in a season, but was told that with his talent he should win 20. "If you win 20, they'll expect you to do it every year," he said.

What he meant was that, in those days, before the players' union had the strength to prevent such a thing, if you won 20, you'd get a raise, but if you didn't win 20 the next season, even if you won 19 -- at which point, the owner or GM might order the manager to not start you again, so that you couldn't get the 20th -- you'd get a pay cut, and there'd be nothing you could do about it except try to win 20 again.

Loes pitched for the Dodgers in the 1952, '53 and '55 World Series. Of the '55 World Champs, 8 players are still alive, 55 years later: Duke Snider, Don Newcombe, Carl Erskine, George "Shotgun" Shuba, Roger Craig, Ed Roebuck and Don Zimmer. And Sandy Koufax: It's easy to forget that Koufax, a rookie at the time but far from finding the form that would make him one of the best pitchers ever, pitched for the Dodgers before they left Brooklyn, even though he was from Brooklyn.

*

Jack Tatum, "the Assassin" of the 1970s Oakland Raiders, has died, of a heart attack related to diabetes. He was 63.

He was a graduate of New Jersey's Passaic High School, as was Craig "Ironhead" Hayward, a star running back of the 1990s. He, too, died young, from (ironically, considering his nickname) a brain tumor.

But pretty much everyone liked Ironhead. Tatum, who played on Ohio State's 1968 National Champions and the 1976 Raiders that won Super Bowl XI, was hated because of the excessive force he used. He'll forever be best remembered for hitting Darryl Stingley of the New England Patriots. In a preseason exhibition. Paralyzing Stingley from the neck down for life.

Tatum said that he tried to meet with Stingley to apologize a few times, but it was Stingley's family, rather than Stingley himself, who wouldn't allow it -- and that it was Stingley's family who then said that Tatum wouldn't apologize.

But Tatum didn't help himself by writing books like They Call Me Assassin, in which he seemed absolutely unapologetic for the way he played.

In another great irony, diabetes, and the circulation problems it can cause, cost Tatum first some toes -- after hearing about it, Stingley sent him a get-well card, proving that he didn't have the kind of bitterness many people suggested he did -- and then part of his leg. Making it difficult for him to walk, although not, as in Stingley's case, impossible. And he only outlived Stingley by a few years.

Hopefully, now, both Stingley and Tatum can run on a football field again.

*

Terrell Owens, having worn out his welcome with the San Francisco 49ers, Philadelphia Eagles, Dallas Cowboys and now the Buffalo Bills, has signed with the Cincinnati Bengals.

T.O. going to the Bungles will pretty much guarantee -- unless the Reds can keep this NL Central race going -- that every major league sports team in the State of Ohio is going to be a huge mess for the foreseeable future.

The Jets were rumored to be interested in him. T.O. going to the Jets would have been like inviting a radioactive clown to a birthday party: No matter what kind of tricks he could perform, it's not going to end well.