Dan Rooney Page 17

  Outside the Steelers organization there was much speculation. Nothing, outside of the weather, concerned Pittsburghers more than the Steelers quarterback controversy. Heated debate could be overheard on every street corner wherever more than one Steelers fan congregated. The newspapers weighed in. The Courier touted Gilliam’s strong arm. The Pittsburgh Press defended Bradshaw, the “Blond Bomber,” against charges that he was really the “Bayou Bumpkin” and too dumb to call plays and lead a team. Other papers lauded Hanratty’s intelligence and ability.

  The San Diego Chargers had the audacity to ask me whether we might like to trade for Johnny Unitas. Johnny, then forty years old, had been let go by the Colts and signed by the Chargers a year earlier. His arm was long gone and his knees were shot—a sad end to a brilliant career. With no disrespect to Johnny, I told them, “No thanks, we’re happy with the guys we have.”

  Although the Steelers finished with a 10-4 record, we came in second in our division. That qualified us for a wild-card game against the Western Division champion Raiders, who we had beaten earlier in the regular season. In that game—played without Terry Bradshaw—Oakland hammered us statistically, but with toughness and big plays by the defense we found a way to win, 17-9. Mike Wagner recovered a fumble, and Mel Blount, Glen Edwards, and Dwight White combined for four interceptions. But the playoff game was a different story. The Raiders embarrassed us in Oakland, 33-14, and ended our Super Bowl hopes for 1973.

  The 1974 draft made history. Since the draft was first instituted in 1936, never has one team drafted so many Hall of Famers. That year the Steelers picked Lynn Swann, Jack Lambert, John Stallworth, and Mike Webster. My brother Art, Bill Nunn, and Dick Haley, along with Chuck Noll, had done their homework. They knew which players they wanted and had developed a strategy to get them. But I’ll be the first to admit, a little bit of luck figured in our success.

  We took Lynn Swann in the first round, an amazing, acrobatic wide receiver from the University of Southern California. We believed Swann could outrun or outjump any defensive back matched up against him—just the kind of talented individual who could help complete our passing attack. We had the throwers, now we needed the catchers.

  Noll wanted John Stallworth for his second-round pick. Bill Nunn had brought back excellent reports on this Alabama A&M wide receiver. But he convinced Noll that we could wait until the fourth round to get him because no other team had scouted him as thoroughly as we had. As was the custom back then, Nunn had traveled with the BLESTO scouts on their swing through the South, but the practice track was wet on the rainy day they timed Stallworth in the 40-yard dash. Nunn’s intuition told him there was something special about this young man. The next day Nunn faked a bout of the flu and told the other BLESTO scouts to go on without him. When they left, he didn’t waste a minute. He got Stallworth on a dry track, put him through his paces, and got good times on him, much better than those recorded by the BLESTO guys the day before.

  Later, when the BLESTO game film of Stallworth arrived at the Steelers office, it somehow got lost and never made it to the other clubs. I can’t explain to this day whether this was deliberate or just a fortunate foul-up. We also got a break at the Senior Bowl—the college all-star game that’s attended by droves of NFL scouts—when the coaches there played Stallworth at defensive back instead of wide receiver.

  Noll was concerned about missing out on Stallworth, but he trusted Nunn’s judgment. We’d wait on Stallworth until our next pick in round four (we had traded away our third-round choice to Oakland) and take Jack Lambert as our second-round pick. Lambert appeared too tall and thin to be a linebacker, but our scouts chanced to see him at Kent State. Art watched a practice that had been moved from a muddy field to a gravel parking lot. He saw this guy tackling full speed on the gravel, then calmly picking rock chips out of his knees and elbows as he hustled back to the huddle. He didn’t have much meat on his bones but he used everything he had. We got Lambert as the forty-sixth pick of the draft.

  Much to Noll’s relief, we got Stallworth with one of our two picks in the fourth round—UCLA cornerback Jim Allen was the other—just as Nunn had predicted.

  In the fifth round, we got a guy who proved to be the key to our offensive line, Mike Webster, a great, quick center from Wisconsin. He wasn’t the biggest center around, but he was impossible to intimidate and knew how to utilize leverage to stop in their tracks guys fifty pounds heavier.

  At first, not everyone saw the brilliance of this draft. The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette offered this opinion:

  The Steelers seemed to have come out of the first five rounds of the draft appreciably strengthened at wide receiver but nowhere else. They didn’t get a tight end, and the ones remaining are more suspect than prospect. They didn’t get a punter, although none of the nation’s best collegiate kickers went in the first five rounds. They didn’t get an offensive tackle that might’ve shored up what could well become a weakness. What they did get was Swann, who seems to be a sure-pop to help; Lambert, who figures to be the number-5 linebacker if he pans out; and three question marks.

  I guess sportswriters often know their stuff and sometimes get it right. This time they didn’t understand our needs and didn’t appreciate our draft strategy. Working together—the coaches and the scouts—we hit the jackpot in 1974.

  Just when things seemed to be going well, the 1974 season began to unravel almost before it started. On July 3, 1974, the National Football League Players Association (NFLPA), founded in 1956, called a strike. With a list of fifty-seven grievances, about a quarter of the veteran players across the league refused to report to summer camp. The main issue seemed to be free agency. When a player’s contract expired and he wanted to go to another team, the “Rozelle Rule,” in effect since 1963, mandated compensation—either in draft picks or cash—to the original club. This made free agency practically meaningless in the NFL. Few, if any, clubs wanted to pick up a veteran who might cost them draft picks. Between 1963 and 1974, only four players successfully moved to other clubs. The players’ union wanted the league to allow “free agents” to sign with new teams without compensation to the original club. Most owners objected to doing business this way, fearing it would encourage raiding and ruin the competitive balance of the league, which we had achieved through the draft.

  At St. Vincent on the first day of camp, we found a picket line. Bradshaw and other veterans would not cross the line. Our rookies reported and so did some of our older players, who feared missing their opportunity to play in the National Football League. Joe Gilliam was in this latter category.

  Now, when I say picket line I don’t mean shouting people armed with clubs and bricks. This wasn’t the Homestead Strike of 1892. No Pinkertons this time, just a bunch of athletes, some of them with signs, most of them with long hair and mustaches—this was the 1970s after all—loafing, talking, and not at all threatening. I asked the Steelers player representative, Rocky Bleier, to check with the union and see if I might talk to the team. Rocky said it was okay and that he would stand beside me. Together, we’d answer any questions the players might have. I think talking to them did some good.

  Certainly, there were no hard feelings on either side. In some ways, it brought our team closer together. Joe Greene took a special interest in Terry Bradshaw during the strike, letting the other players know that as far as he was concerned, strike or no strike, Terry was the team’s number-one quarterback. Greene also made sure Terry didn’t get caught up in union politics and protected him from the media, which seemed determined to make a controversy out of the Steelers quarterback situation. Greene knew these distractions would hurt not only Terry but the team as well.

  The strike continued well into August. On my first visit to the picket line I struck up a conversation with Joe Gilliam, who was about to cross. He said, “Mr. Rooney, I have to cross. It’s my only chance to make this team. If I don’t cross, I know I’m gone. This is my shot.”

  I said, “You’ve got to do what you
think is right.”

  I talked to the other guys about some of the issues. The list kept growing (by the end of the strike it had grown to ninety-three grievances). I wanted them to know I respected their right to organize and negotiate for what they thought was fair. I didn’t promise we could agree right now on everything, but I told them we’d make every effort to work things out.

  By the time of our first preseason game, we had enough players to field a team. All our talented rookies—Swann, Lambert, Stallworth, Webster, and a free agent named Donnie Shell—were there, as was Joe Gilliam. Gilliam got in a lot of time throwing passes to Swann and Stallworth, and running plays with the first team. Usually, these guys wouldn’t have gotten the full attention of the coaching staff, and certainly they wouldn’t have gotten in much playing time. Lambert had been making weekly trips from his home in Ohio to Pittsburgh to study films and learn the playbook. He and the other rookies were highly motivated. In a way, the strike gave the rookies—and Gilliam—a real leg up on the players who stayed out. Gilliam had a very good preseason, and played a big role in our perfect 6-0 record. So when we started the season for real, Noll gave him the nod as quarterback, even though Bradshaw and the other veterans had ended their holdout.

  On September 15, 1974, we played Baltimore in our season opener. Gilliam led us to a 30-0 victory, completing 17 of 31 passes for 257 yards, including a 54-yard touchdown bomb to Lynn Swann. Noll, of course, allowed his quarterbacks to call their own plays, but he wasn’t pleased with Gilliam’s reliance on the pass. But who could argue with a 30-0 win? For Noll the real story was the defense. This was the first shutout we’d had since December 1972, and our defense dominated the Colts, sacking the Baltimore quarterbacks six times.

  Next we went to Mile High Stadium in Denver and battled the Broncos to a grueling 35-35 overtime tie—the first overtime tie in NFL history, because the league had just instituted the rule to play one 15-minute sudden-death overtime period in any regular season game that was tied after four quarters. The game lasted 3 hours 49 minutes with 160 plays. Unbelievably, Gilliam threw 50 passes, completing 31 for 348 yards and one touchdown.

  Our first loss of the season came at the hands of Oakland. They killed us 17-0, our first shutout loss since 1964. Oakland’s defense limited Gilliam to 8 completions in 31 attempts. The Raiders intercepted him three times.

  Noll grew more and more frustrated with Gilliam’s one-dimensional attack. He continued to defy Noll and never established the ground game even though we had Franco and Rocky. He’d call a pass on third and inches—the Raiders knew he’d throw every time and were ready for him.

  The next week we played in the Astrodome in Houston. We didn’t expect to have trouble with the Oilers, but they intercepted Gilliam twice. Their only score came on a 47-yard scramble on an end around by rookie sensation Billy “White Shoes” Johnson. With the exception of that one lapse, our defense continued to dominate.

  We were all wondering about the inconsistency of our offense, and Noll now had real concern about the quarterback position. He gave Gilliam every chance to prove himself, but Joe resisted Chuck’s instructions. He wouldn’t follow the game plan, wouldn’t bring our running backs into the play mix.

  At Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City, we faced the Chiefs and a crowd of over 65,000. Gilliam had a decent game, completing 14 of 37 passes for 214 yards, but we won because of the outstanding play of our defense. Glen Edwards, Jack Ham, and Jack Lambert each picked off two passes, and pressure by the Steel Curtain resulted in three sacks and two fumble recoveries. Final score, 34-24.

  The following Sunday, at home in Three Rivers, Gilliam had a terrible day, completing 5 of 18 passes for only 66 yards. Roy Gerela’s two field goals proved decisive in our 20-16 victory. The real story was again our defense, which sacked Cleveland’s quarterback six times for a loss of 33 yards. Franco Harris began making a difference, running for 81 yards and one touchdown on fourteen carries.

  Gilliam just wasn’t cutting it. Chuck told me he planned to start Bradshaw in the next game against Atlanta. The Post-Gazette sponsored a public opinion poll, asking who should start at quarterback. The quarterback question became the talk of the town, and I’m afraid some of that talk turned racist. Gilliam received threatening letters.

  But I can tell you all the public debate and speculation in the press had no effect on Chuck Noll or his decision to play Bradshaw. Like Chuck, I felt we had given Joe every chance. He had tremendous talent, a pure passer—I’d never seen a stronger arm. He was hard working, intense, and desperately wanted to succeed—that’s what made pulling him so tough. He took it hard.

  Each of the three quarterbacks had their advocates on the team. Dwight White strongly believed Gilliam had all the tools and had proven himself. Former Steelers running back and Hall of Famer John Henry Johnson backed Terry Hanratty. Joe Greene had bonded with Bradshaw during the players’ strike and made it known he thought Terry should lead the team.

  Noll played Bradshaw because he thought it time to go with his first-round draft pick. Race was not an issue. Noll believed Terry could get the job done—it was that simple. In hindsight, it’s obvious Chuck made the right call.

  When we took the field against the Atlanta Falcons at Three Rivers Stadium, the pressure on Bradshaw increased. He hadn’t played all season, but he had a terrific team behind him. The Steelers defense sacked Falcon’s quarterback Bob Lee seven times, increasing its league-leading total to twenty-eight. Franco Harris set a career high of 141 yards rushing, and Rocky Bleier ran for 78 more.

  The Rocky Bleier story is incredible. We drafted him from Notre Dame in 1968, but then he was drafted again, this time by the U.S. Army, and sent to Vietnam in 1969. Wounded in action, he came back to the Steelers in 1970 with a Bronze Star, Purple Heart, and shrapnel in his foot. He had lost weight and his wounds slowed him down. Chuck Noll released him in the final cut that summer.

  I’d kept an eye on Rocky, watched him in practice, and talked to the coaches. Dick Hoak, our offensive backfield coach, and others thought highly of him, but no one thought he’d make the team. Before he went to Southeast Asia he’d played well. Now he was giving his all, despite the searing pain in his foot. Our equipment manager, Tony Parisi, came to see me. “Dan, you’ve got to do something. This kid’s suffering. He’s got shrapnel in his foot.”

  I went to the Chief because I knew it would be a big expense to keep Rocky on the payroll. I asked him if he’d be okay with getting Bleier the operation he needed and keeping him on the team. “Go ahead. Do what you think is right.”

  After clearing it with Chuck (I didn’t want him to think I was second-guessing his decision), I called Rocky the next morning and told him we’d like him to consider having another operation—his third—this time performed by our doctors. Instead of placing him on waivers, I said we’d put him on injured reserve. Slowly, through self discipline and hard work, he got himself back into shape. In fact, the best shape in his life. Noll and Hoak couldn’t believe it, but he actually improved his speed in the 40-yard dash.

  By 1974 he had cracked the starting lineup on merit and come into his own as a powerful blocker and smart running back. Rocky’s come-back was an inspiration to many of our players—and to America. I never once regretted our decision to keep him on the team.

  Bradshaw really showed what he could do in our November 3 game against the Philadelphia Eagles. We played at Three Rivers Stadium, and Terry directed a 375-yard offense, gaining 48 yards rushing himself. Our defense posted its second shutout of the year. We crushed them, 27-0.

  Bradshaw seemed to lose his concentration in our 17-10 loss to Cincinnati. He completed only a third of his passes, threw one interception, and got badly out-quarterbacked by the Bengals’ Ken Anderson. In Bradshaw’s defense, Anderson set two records that day—one for completing sixteen consecutive passes, the other for his 90 percent game completion percentage. But Anderson’s stellar record didn’t matter to Noll. He thought we should have won the ga
me.

  On November 17, we played the Browns in Cleveland Stadium before 77,000 screaming Browns fans. With Bradshaw and Gilliam benched, Terry Hanratty started his first game of the season as quarterback. Gerela’s 14 points made him the leading scorer and the top kicker in the AFC. Franco rushed for 156 yards. Final score, Pittsburgh 26, Cleveland 16.

  Right after Thanksgiving we played the Saints at Tulane Stadium, almost a homecoming for Bradshaw, who Noll brought back as our starting quarterback. We overpowered the Saints 28-7, with Bradshaw throwing two touchdown passes and rushing for 99 yards, including an 18-yard scoring run. He almost equaled Franco’s 114 rushing yards. The six sacks by our defense boosted our sack total to a league-leading forty-six, and our players started thinking about a return trip in January to New Orleans, the site of Super Bowl IX. But we were getting ahead of ourselves.

  Back to Three Rivers again, in the freezing rain, we lost to Houston, 13-10. Bradshaw left the game in the third quarter with bruised ribs. The Oilers defense racked up four sacks and three interceptions, and shut us out in the second half.

  Despite the disappointing showing against Houston, we came back the next week to beat New England at Schaefer Stadium, clinching our second AFC Central Division championship and eliminating New England from a wild-card berth. Bradshaw used his running game to good advantage. Franco chalked up 136 yards rushing, while our tough defense made the Patriots’ pay for every one of their 184 yards of offense.