On this Father’s Day, my 24th without my dad and best friend, I can’t help think about the man who influenced me to fall in love with my Black and Gold heroes. You see, I have the unique distinction of being the only son of THE #1 Steelers fan who ever did or ever will exist. That ranking is not up for debate. “Crazy Jack,” as my friends would call him because of his boundless energy, lived and died with his beloved team. A Steeler win would cause him to pick up the old “house phone” and call his brothers to recap the triumph and give their “professional” assessments of how the game unfolded.
A loss…well, it was best to steer clear of him until the steam stopped coming out of his ears. I submit to you the Steelers-Chiefs AFC Wild Card Game on January 8, 1994, a day of infamy for Steelers fans, as an example. An aging Joe Montana hit Tim Barnett late in the fourth quarter to tie the game 24-24 and the Chiefs would go on to win the game in overtime, 27-24.
Our next-door neighbor happened to be a Chiefs fan. He called my father after the game to say, “Hey, I missed the game, who won?” His playful jab was met with a tapestry of profanity that would make a gangster rapper blush — and a phone slamming in his ear. Win or lose, you could always hear my dad pounding the arm of his favorite chair and screaming at the TV from his private viewing area in the upstairs of our house. Yes, my father, who can be seen at the 2:15 mark of this video, lived for Steeler Sundays. Watching his team was his favorite pastime.
One year, his friend from work became eligible for two season tickets and offered my dad one. I can recall the conversations between my mom and dad as to how they would pay for the tickets. We weren’t the richest people in the world and the cost of these tickets was cause for some serious sacrifice on the part of my parents. But nobody deserved that ticket more. My dad was the kind of guy who looked out for others before himself. A simple truck driver who delivered propane, he would do anything for anyone. Most of all for me.
Whether it was making spaghetti for a house full of my friends at a moment’s notice or throwing passes to my friends and me in the backyard despite debilitating arthritis in his hands and knees or driving to pick me up in State College every couple weekends because I needed laundry done and missed my friends, he selflessly put me and others ahead of himself.
So, it was natural that this man who did so much for me passed down his love of the Steelers to his only child. I will date myself by revealing that the first play I can remember was from the Steelers-Browns game on September 24, 1978. In overtime, Terry Bradshaw handed the ball off to Rocky Bleier. Bleier then handed the ball to Lynn Swann, who pitched it back to Bradshaw on a good ole flea flicker. Bradshaw threw a bullseye to tight end Bennie Cunningham for a 37-yard touchdown to beat the Browns in overtime.
My dad went nuts and I was hooked. I thought that Bennie Cunningham was the greatest football player who ever lived, and that the Steelers would probably build a statue of him if he could do something that incredible to cause my father to rejoice in such a manner.
I wanted to be Cunningham so bad that I would tell my dad and Uncle Jim to announce me as Bennie as I would run in from another room like a Steeler being announced coming out of the tunnel. They playfully tormented me every time. Invariably, as I would run out from the other room they would say, “Here he is ladies and gentlemen, #72 Mooooooon Mullins,” referring to Steelers offensive lineman Gerry “Moon” Mullins. I would throw a tantrum of epic proportions and they would laugh hysterically. That’s how I ended up with the nickname “Moon” for most of my childhood. They must have foreseen that I was going to be built for the interior line rather than the skill positions. We would all laugh about it years later.
The love of the Steelers produced a bond between father and son that transcended sports. My father wasn’t big on emotions or deep conversations. Not because he wasn’t loving, he just struggled to find the words. He showed his love through actions. So, we cemented our bond through trips to nearby Latrobe and watching Jack Lambert, Joe Greene, Jack Ham and the rest of the crew battle it out on the practice fields at St. Vincent College. It was him patiently waiting for hours after practice for his starstruck son to get some autographs from his heroes.
And later, it was taking his teenage son to his first Steelers game and sitting in the first row behind the visitors’ bench at Three Rivers Stadium. I listened as my father give Vinny Testaverde a tongue lashing that I’m sure he remembers to this day. Yes, my father and I were best friends, and a big part of our bond centered around no other than our beloved Pittsburgh Steelers.
Dad passed away unexpectedly in August 1999 at the age of 65. Two decades later, I still find myself thinking of him after a big Steelers win. And him picking up the phone to call my uncles. I think about how he would have tried to get my two daughters, Avah and Emily, to watch games with him. Or buy my grandson Kaiden his first Steelers jersey. He would have loved and spoiled those kids rotten and gifted his passion for the black and gold to another generation. It makes me smile a little. And on this day, I can’t help but think that our story of bonding over Steelers football is a familiar one.
How many other fathers and sons — daughters too — cemented relationships while watching Big Ben and Troy Polamalu trounce the “Bungles” or sharing the misery of the Bubby Brister years? How many fathers and their kids struggled to build relationships and the Steelers were the only bridge between them? Yes, in Western Pennsylvania loving the Steelers is part of life. Family and friends gathering around the TV on a Sunday afternoon is (almost) as important as going to church around here.
I can’t help but feel thankful for the good ole black and gold this Father’s Day. It brought a truck driver and his son together and built a bond that will live on through eternity.
Thank you, Steelers for entertaining us and giving us something to rally around. I know “Crazy Jack” is looking forward to seeing big Darnell Washington pancake a Baltimore Raven soon. And Dad? I promise I’ll call you after the first big win of the year.
