In the Stillers of the Night

I don't like schlocky attempts at humorous poetry, especially those forwarded through the Internet.

But, on the eve of my beloved Steelers (or Stillers as they are known in Pittsburgh) attempt to win an unprecedented sixth Super Bowl tomorrow evening, I will share this poem with anyone who is a fan.

If you grew up or lived in Pittsburgh for any amount of time, becoming a Steeler fan was a right of passage. The Steelers epitomize Pittsburgh, at least the Pittsburgh of my youth: hard-edged, genuine, determined. There was never anything flashy about Pittsburgh or the Steelers. And, as a Steeler fan, it was impossible to not be drawn into the magic of Myron Cope's uniquely Pittsburgh commentary as the color man during Steeler's broadcasts. Only a Pittsburgher could love Myron and his almost gross exaggeration of the unique Pittsburgh dialect.

Most people remember Myron for his creation of the now-ubiquitous Terrible Towels that serve as the official flag of The Steeler Nation. But I remember Myron for his passion and boyish enthusiasm that made listening to a Steeler game a weirdly exhilarating experience. You felt his joy during great wins and grieved along with him during the bitter disappointments. I can still hear Myron screaming in the background of the radio broadcast on the winter day in the early 70's when the Steelers beat the Oakland Raiders with what has since become knows as Franco Harris' "Immaculate Reception." Many may argue, but I believe that singular moment changed the fortunes of a city that was in the midst of its own economic collapse. People began to believe in miracles and, within time, Pittsburgh moved beyond its industrial roots to become a center of commerce and education. On some level, Myron was more than a broadcast color man for an NFL team. He was, in many ways, the voice and the spirit of a Renaissance.

I have lived in Cincinnati for more than 20 years. When I tell locals that I grew up in "the Burgh," they are quick to opine that the two cities are very similar and, thus, I must feel "right at home" in the Queen City. Indeed, they are both cities of majestic hills overlooking one of the country's great rivers. Both cities were carved out of the country's expansion as an industrial power. I have come to like Cincinnati, but have never felt "right at home" here, because, at heart, I will always be a Pittsburgher. I will always feel an affinity for its ethnic heritage and neighborhood spirit. I will always have The Steelers. And the memories of Myron taking me down the field on a last minute drive to Steeler glory.

This poem is about Myron and what he means to Pittsburghers.

If you know Myron, I hope it brings a smile to your face.

Go STILLERS!!

‘Twas the Night Before the Super Bowl
       ‘Twas the night before the Super Bowl, when along the gulf shore,
                Steelers fans were praying for “just one more;”
                The players were nestled all snug in the sack,
                    With visions of the first NFL Six-Pack;
                Coach Tomlin was young, but wise for his years,
                 So I drifted off to sleep without any fears;
             When at the stadium there arose some strange chatter,
                  The Cardinals feared, what was the matter;
                 We heard “Okel Dokel”, we heard “Double Yoi,”
              We jumped from our beds, our hearts jumped for joy;
                 He stood at the fifty with a grin ear to ear,
                  Steelers fans everywhere started to cheer;
                      Then in an instant to our surprise,
                  This little old man had tears in his eyes;
                He went to the booth and there took his chair,
                    While Terrible Towels waved in the air;
                 Then over the airwaves came his shrill voice,
                     The Steelers Nation began to rejoice;
                He said, “I am back, but you know I can’t stay,
                      I just had to see my Steelers play;
                  From my home up above, I have a great view,
                   But I wanted to celebrate here with you;
               So bring on the Birds, we’ll send them a flyin’,
               On the way back to Phoenix , they will be cryin’;
                 Ben, Hines, Troy , Jeff and all of the rest,
                No matter the outcome, to me you’re the best;”
                 The airwaves went silent, the stadium still,
                   Was this just a dream, it seemed so real;
             In our team we have faith, in our team we have hope,
                But the game’s not the same without Myron Cope