... or is it wishful thinking?
Some time around 3:00 yesterday afternoon, Ed Bouchette interviewed Peter King, who discussed his November article on the Steelers and said about the Steelers an hour and a half before kickoff -- they are a great team because great teams, even when they are not playing their best, find a way to win.
4:30/4:35 -- Kickoff
While my Renee (sister), Terry (brother-in-law), Mike (cousin), and Shawn (cousin-in-law) and 64,911 other fans twirled their Terrible Towels, I sat in my livingroom with my dad as he rocked nervously back and forth Leo Mazzone-style.
End of 1st quarter
It was 10-0 and it looked to all the world (or at least me, anyway) as if the Steelers were going to walk away with this one because in 4 games against the Steelers in this half decade, the Jets have managed just 1 touchdown... and that was on a half back option... and hadn't scored more than 7 points in any of those games.
Santana Freakin' Moss
Watching a game with my dad is like watching it with Monsieur Meursault from Camus' "The Stranger" -- except that my dad is slightly more of a fatalist. He declared the game all but over at that point. I reminded him that there was a half of football left and that to my knowledge no team had ever lost a game by a score of 10 to 10. Besides, the last game was 3-3 at half time. And the Jets offense still hadn't scored against the Steelers.
In an effort to save the Steelers' season, my dad changed into a Roethlisberger jersey at halftime while I walked Otto. While I can't be certain, I strongly suspect that if my dad hadn't changed his attire, the Steelers would have handily won this football game. Thankfully, I was able to counterbalance this effect by folding up the blanket I had been using to keep myself warm (as turning the thermostat up past 65 hadn't occurred to me) -- because the Steelers hadn't lost a game all year in which I had watched them without a blanket.
My sister and brother-in-law called at halftime from the game -- a bit concerned. This wasn't the Indy-Broncos game that they were hoping for. I calmly told them that the Steelers would win. I wasn't worried about that -- and oddly, I really wasn't.
Getting slipped the Tongue
The game WAS OVER, according to my dad, when Roethlisberger threw a perfect strike to Reggie Tongue, who returned the pass 86 yards for a touchdown. The game WAS OVER even though the Steelers had more than a quarter to score 1 TD to tie the game. I reminded him of this, but my dad has never let things such as logic override his fatalistic sensibilities when it comes to the Steelers, so the game still WAS OVER. (Mind you, this is a man who was at the "Immaculate Reception" game -- and every other game that the Steelers played at home during the 70s -- but who missed seeing Franco make the catch and score the touchdown because he had buried his head in his lap after Bradshaw's pass ricocheted off either Jack Tatum [if you are a Steelers fan or the referee who called the game] or Frenchy Fuqua [if you are a Raiders fan], so convinced was he that the game was over. 33 years later and not much has changed, except he buries his head a quarter or two earlier.) And yet, despite the fact that the game WAS OVER, my father, who mixes his fatalism with a healthy dose of sado-masochism, kept watching. I still believed that the Steelers would win, because great teams win these games.
The drive and the fumble
The Steelers' second series after the Tongue debacle reminded us all of why the Steelers were 15-1 heading into this game... because even with 8 or 9 or 10 guys in the box late in the game, the Steelers become an unstoppable running force. Well, almost unstoppable -- a Bettis fumble -- that occurs about as often as a Don Henley album release -- stopped them and once and for all convinced my father that (with a little less than 1 quarter to play and the Steelers down by only a touchdown) the game was REALLY OVER now.
He went upstairs, took off the Roethlisberger jersey, and came down only after he heard me yell "touchdown".
The field goals and the interception
Father Fatalism scurried back upstairs shortly after I informed him of the shuffle pass to Hines Ward, so he didn't see Doug Brien line up for a 47 yard field goal with 2:03 to play. A stat shot across the screen that said the longest field goal at Heinz Field by a visiting kicker was 46 yards. I'm sure my father would have said, had he been watching, "they are jinxing us. He's going to make it." I, on the other hand, was certain that he would miss it. My dad ran down the stairs when he heard me cry "yes" after the ball clanked off the cross bar -- a game of inches indeed.
With 1:57 left to play, 2 timeouts, and the ball at their own 37, the Steelers began their 2 minute offense -- the very same one that had marched us down the field so effortlessly against the Jacksonville Jaguars for a game-winning field goal. Whether more effort would be required this time turned out to be a moot question as Ben's first pass sailed over Burress and into the hands of the Jets' David Barrett. Several plays later, with 0:04 left on the clock, Doug Brien trotted back onto the field for a chance at redemption and to end a storybook season.
My father, having returned from his self-imposed exile, apparently eager to experience first-hand the pain associated with an unexpected and crushing defeat, sat next to me on the couch, waiting to say "they stink" and "I told you this game was over". My sister, I would later learn, sat in the stands and cried, while my brother-in-law sat next to her hugging the husband and the wife to his side. All hoping for a miss. I sat and believed.
There is, I'm sure, a fine line between belief, self-deception, and hope... but there was not one moment in that game when I thought the Steelers would lose. I did not hope. I did not self-deceive. I believed that Brien would miss his field goal.
And miss it he did.
Overtime
The Steelers overcame a punt return for a touchdown, an interception for a touchdown, and my dad's donning of a Roethlisberger jersey to get into overtime. Was there any question that they would win this game?
My nephew (Robbie) returned with my mother from my grandmother's house as overtime began. Robbie excitedly ran toward the television, looked back at us and said, "meatball" -- as in his favorite Elmo DVD. Sorry, Robbie, there are things bigger than meatballs. More important than Elmo. When he gets older, he'll have a better perspective on this -- when he sends his own child off into the crying arms of his mother or grandparents, glued to the glorious spectacle that is playoff football, he'll understand.
After a generous third down spot gave them a first down on their first series in OT, the Steelers forced the Jets to punt and started the game's final drive from their own 13.
A vintage Steelers' drive later (running, running, Roethlisberger scrambling and throwing, and then more running), Jeff Reed lined up a game-winning 33 yard field-goal. My dad rocked anxiously next to me -- hoping for an improbable Steelers victory. My sister and brother-in-law continued their crying, hugging, and hoping. I believed.
20-17
Just inside the right post went Jeff Reed's kick and with it, the Steelers to the AFC Championship Game next Sunday night at Heinz Field.
There are no guarantees or certainties in life. The Colts and Patriots both are capable of beating the Steelers next week -- as are the Falcons or Eagles in the Super Bowl.
But as Duce Staley said after the game, "You just have to have faith."
And as Peter King said before and Hines Ward echoed after the game last night, the Steelers will find a way to win because "[t]hat's what great teams do."
That's what I believe.
