Franco Harris played for the Pittsburgh Steelers but commanded an army.
My sister and I enlisted at ages seven and nine, respectively, not long after Harris turned a shoestring catch of a ball that deflected off safety Jack Tatum into a touchdown to lift the Steelers over the Raiders in a divisional playoff 50 years ago today.
The catch and touchdown by Harris, who died on Wednesday at age 72, marked the start of a run of success by the Steelers that included winning four Super Bowls in eight years.
The “Immaculate Reception,” as the catch came to be known, created a legion of fans who formed “Franco’s Italian Army,” which took its name from his mother’s heritage. In seasons to come, my sister and I wore red, white and green knit caps and scarves that marked us as members. We wore them to Steelers games. And probably to plenty of other places too.
We listened to the Immaculate Reception on a portable Sony radio at my aunt and uncle’s apartment in the Squirrel Hill section of Pittsburgh. In those days, the NFL did not televise home games, even when the stadium sold out.
No matter. Though I’ve seen replays of the Immaculate Reception dozens of times over the years, radio didn’t rob the catch of any of its divine power. I can still summon the jolt of realizing the Steelers won a game in the playoffs. (The Super Bowls were all to come.) And I can still recall my parents, who had attended the game, telling us they missed the very play my sister and I had just heard.
My father, who held season tickets, was disgusted the Steelers seemed poised to lose. (They lost a lot before the 1970s.) So he and Mom left in the waning minutes to beat the traffic. They turned back, too late, when they heard the crowd roar.
Harris, who stood six feet two, would go on to run for more than 12,120 yards in 13 seasons, making him 12th all time in the NFL. He had a long stride in the open field that often started with a stutter step as he searched for an opening.
Of all the Steelers, he seemed like the one with whom you’d want to be friends, a feeling that seems shared by many.
“Rest in peace to a great man who showed so much support for me,” tweeted Najee Harris, the current Steelers running back who, like Franco, was a first-round draft pick. “He was way more than just an athlete, he was an icon and a role model to so many people.”
“He was a generous person who brought happiness to everyone he touched,” tweeted the Raiders, who called Franco an “unmatched competitor on the field.”
“He was an extraordinary man on and off the field,” said former President Barack Obama.
I never had the pleasure of meeting Franco, but one day about four years ago, I saw him on Walnut Street in Pittsburgh’s Shadyside neighborhood. Just seeing him was a thrill.
My sister reminded me this week that in third grade she won the local stage of a read-a-thon fundraiser. The prize: a cruise aboard the Gateway Clipper riverboat that travels the three rivers of Pittsburgh. The cruise, which brought together dozens of kids who had read their way to the prize, was hosted by Franco Harris. My sister took a photo with Franco, who signed her skipper hat.
As it happens, even Franco could not console a nine-year-old stuck on a boat with strangers. “The cruise was kind of a letdown,” my sister recalled. “Because I was a little girl and on a boat for an hour-and-a-half with 50 kids I didn’t know. Five minutes into it, I thought ‘I don’t want to be here, I don’t know anybody.’ That’s my Franco Harris story.”