I think you're gonna finally understand

The problem with a blog like The Fritz Blitz is that there is just so much sports news out there that is available from much better sources. By the time Jamie and I get wind of something we’d like to write about, hundreds of people have beaten us to it, and they have access to much greater information on the topic than we do. By the time we gain insight on Troy Polamalu’s Achilles tendon or Ben Roethlisberger’s choice in karaoke songs, those stories have been across cyberspace and back again.

That’s why we often need to go beyond statistics or the results of any one game and get into what sports mean to us. So while other sports outlets are dissecting the many matchups in Super Bowl XLV—Roethlisberger vs. Aaron Rodgers, Polamalu vs. Clay Matthews, The Black Eyed Peas vs. music—I’m going to make this Super Bowl column more personal.

This is about how I became a Pittsburgh Steelers fan.

When I was young, I was interested in the NFL in general, but I never had an allegiance to any one team. (The first pro football game I remember seeing on TV was an AFL game! Yeah, I’m old.) I think this was because I grew up in the middle of Buckeye country—where the most professional football team wears scarlet and gray. I remember wearing a Kansas City Chiefs windbreaker when I was a kid—not because I really cared about the Chiefs, but because I liked the colors.

NFL fandom in Columbus is split between the Browns and the Bengals, with a considerable number of Steelers fans. I went to a Bengals game with my brother when I was in college, and I thought it was cool that they made a couple of Super Bowls, but watching the NFL was mainly something I did when I had nothing else to do on Sunday.

This changed when I met Jamie.

When I visited her house before I moved to Pittsburgh, one of the things we did was watch the Steelers. We turned the TV volume down and listened to Myron Cope on the radio. I knew right then that I was watching much more than a football game. From Cope’s expressions like “yoi” and “um-hah” to the many years of lore behind the team, it was easy to be caught up in the Steelers phenomenon.

It’s no accident that I remember the day I moved to Pittsburgh—Nov. 10, 2002—as the day that the Steelers tied the Falcons, 34-34. Jamie and I saw our first game in person the next year. Not only was the game against the Chargers meaningless to the playoffs, the weather was quite cold (although Wikipedia says it was 38 degrees)—but you wouldn’t have known that judging from the crowd.

A Steelers game is something to see. It appears as if the whole town turns out for it—all devoted to their team and cheering on their favorites. And when there’s something important on the line—as there was in the 2005 playoff game we saw against the Jets—the upper deck of Heinz Field shakes. I have never seen such devotion to a team anywhere (and, yes, that includes the Buckeyes).

It has been fun watching the team build over the years, as each year brought with it new prospects that have become the team that’s playing in the Super Bowl now. There will be more than a team playing in the game tomorrow—there will be an entire city, and a great, big Steeler Nation, playing for a seventh Super Bowl ring.

GO STEELERS!

Remember, The Titans?

To the Tennessee Titans publicity department:

I certainly do not envy your current task. To some degree, I can relate to it. I once worked in sports information for my college football team which went 0-10 my junior year. I know how frustrating a winless season can be.

All the pundits are having their say as to why the Titans are 0-6 and coming off a humiliating 59-0 loss to Tom Brady. Too many injuries, bad defense, Jeff Fisher is through, I’m sure you’ve heard them all.

Everybody up here in da ‘Burgh knows the real reason.

It’s because the Titans stomped on the Terrible Towel.

I’m serious. When several Titans trampled the Terrible Towel after their 31-14 win over the Steelers last year, they had no idea how much bad karma they unleashed. The Titans haven’t won a game since. Do you think that’s just a coincidence?

But your team and their fans are in luck. There is a chance to redeem yourselves, and probably save Jeff Fisher’s job, too.

The Terrible Towel is more than just a stadium accessory. Sales of the Towel benefit the Allegheny Valley School for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. The Terrible Towel was created by the late Myron Cope, the longtime Steelers radio announcer whose son, David, is a resident at the school.

It would be a great gesture for the Titans to make a donation to Allegheny Valley School, perhaps accompanied by a visit to Myron Cope’s grave at Chartiers Cemetery in Carnegie.

Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. The Titans can still go 10-6….

Regards,
Bob Fritz
Penn Hills, PA

Myron Cope 1929-2008

A piece of Pittsburgh died this week.

As I write this, people are gathering in downtown Pittsburgh to pay tribute to Myron Cope with a ceremonial wave of the Terrible Towel he invented. Newspapers, TV stations, and blogs are loaded with tributes to Cope, who died Wednesday from respiratory failure at 79.

These tributes are the most I’ve ever seen for a sportscaster. Nobody mourned Howard Cosell this way.

In the relatively brief time that I’ve lived in Pittsburgh, I can see that the tributes are justified.

Soon after I moved here in 2002, it became apparent to me that Cope was more than a sportscaster. One of the first things Jamie did to introduce me to the area was play a Steelers radio broadcast. I had never heard an announcer quite like him. His nasal voice, with a heavy Pittsburgh accent, came across like Cosell without the pretentiousness. His catch phrases, such as “um-hah,” “yoi,” and “okle-dokle,” became part of the local vocabulary, as did his nicknames for opposing teams—the “Cleve Brownies,” the “Cincinnati Bungles,” and the “Baltimore Birdies.” He made Steelermania instantly accessible to me. For the uninitiated, this site has a good collection of Myron’s sound bites.

Two of his most recent games stand out in my mind. One was the last game of the 2004 season. The Steelers had clinched a playoff berth and started many second-stringers against the Buffalo Bills, but beat them anyway. Myron marveled at the performance of the “Steelers Scrubs” and riffed on it throughout the game. He even joked that he would have T-shirts made reading “Steelers Scrubs.”

Another game, that same year, was a fairly decisive win against the arch-rival Cincinnati Bengals, in which he came up with the line, “We’re putting the lox on those Cincinnati Bagels!”

His legacy goes beyond the broadcast booth. He once joked that his epitaph would read, “Creator of Towel Dead,” and many people know him best as the creator of the Terrible Towel. The Towel, invented prior to a 1975 playoff game, has set the standard for sports team symbols. Cope was also an excellent print journalist. He and George Plimpton are the only two writers ever given the title of Special Correspondent for Sports Illustrated.

Until Myron's retirement, it was a tradition in our house to watch the Steelers game with the TV sound turned down and the radio playing in the background. I will never forget that moment before each game when the stadium music boomed in the background as the Steelers ran onto the field. Myron would sputter, raise his voice higher than usual, and generally break every rule of sportscasting, but, at that moment, he said everything you needed to know. It’s telling that, with all due respect to Tunch and Bill, we now listen to the radio broadcast only when the TV announcers really suck.

Thank you, Myron, for welcoming me to Pittsburgh.

Bye now!