Recreation Football

There is a notion among NFL fans that reporters who travel on the road to cover football games have it made. When I worked at KDKA-TV in Pittsburgh, during the 80s, I traveled with both the Steelers and woe-begotten, one-year wonder, USFL Maulers. I always had people telling me, "Wow, you have the most exciting job, ever. You get to travel with the team, get into the games free and see so many big cities." Yes, all of those observations are true. But, let me tell you, we didn't always fly the friendly skies.

Now, it used to be that NFL owners in some major cities would often foot the airfare for selected local scribes, radio and TV sports guys, videographers and photographers to fly with the team. I don't think it was a totally altruistic gesture on the part of management. They were probably of the mindset that their magnanimity would help ensure favorable reporting.

The flights I took with the Steelers and Maulers were all chartered. What does that have to do with anything? Well, there are only so many players to fill all the seats on a 727 or 737. And, after some of the remaining seats are filled with staffers, high-roller sponsors, and supporters, there are still a number left over for the media. So, if you were a reporter (excepting the team's play-by-play and color announcers who always got seats) you kind of flew "Stand-by Status" - sometimes not knowing if there was space available until a couple of days before the game.

By the way, there is a pecking order for seating. The head coach always gets the first seat in the front. There is no "sandwich seat" for pro football players. The rule - one empty seat shall exist between two football players. Need an extra seat? Find it some place past both the offense and defense. Oh, and the rest of us passengers? Packed in like sardines.

Speaking of sandwich, that reminds me of the tradition started by Steelers' Head Coach Chuck Noll on plane flights. After every game, as the team and the rest of us boarded the plane, we would be handed a hoagie (some people call it a "submarine") sandwich. And, if the team won, we all got a bonus, two cans of beer were dispensed to each of us entering the plane. Everyone was happy, and it was a good flight home. But, if the team lost - Noll's rule - no beers for anybody. Since the team was already feeling down about the loss, this measure was certainly not the picker-upper it needed. Wonder what motivated the Steelers to win all those big games and Super Bowls in the 70s? It was the thought of no beer. It had to be.

Still, you could not feel too sorry for them. The huge hoagie was just an appetizer. A full course meal was also served in flight. Yes, big boys have big appetites. I couldn't even finish the hoagie.

Big boys, it turns out, can also be big babies. Couple of examples. The last game of the Maulers' maiden and only season, June 22, 1984, was in Jacksonville. Several miles outside of Jacksonville, the plane encountered turbulent weather. Turbulent? It was a full blown thunder storm. There was thunder and lightning striking all around us. And every time a thunder boomer got close, the plane experienced a dramatic and sudden drop in altitude. It seemed like about a thousand feet per hit. One moment you were drinking a beverage, then trying to catch it, as the glass literally dropped below the liquid. Things got so bad that 300 pound linemen were crying and yelling out, "God, please don't let us die." Head Coach Ellis Rainsberger's (ironically perfect name considering the circumstances) son, who was only about 12 years old, threw up.

Then, there was the Nov. 17, 1985 game in which the Steelers flew to Houston to take on the Oilers. It was a fantastic day for Mark Malone and Louis Lipps who combined for three passing touchdowns, and the Steelers won easily 30-7. Had the flight home only been as sweet. While we triumphantly taxied down the airstrip, rapidly picking up speed for ascent, the pilot suddenly threw on the brakes in emergency fashion causing us all to lurch violently forward in our seats and then just as violently back against our seats. Again, the wails, shrieks and prayers of those giant gladiators of the gridiron permeated the plane. After the plane came to a complete stop, the pilot got on the microphone to say, "Sorry for the abrupt halt to our takeoff, but a red engine warning light won't go out on our instrument panel. So, we're going to pull over on the tarmac and have our mechanics take a look. If they can't fix it, we may be spending the night in Houston." After more than an hour wait, the pilot came back on to say, "Well, the crew can't figure out why the light came on and can't shut it off. We think it's just a fuse. So buckle up, we're going to take off again."

Remember what I said earlier about Noll and the two beer bonus. Well, it should have been four for that flight. As I recall, huge defensive end Keith Willis reached over my seat and tapped me on the shoulder to say in a shaky and somewhat fearful voice, "Hey man, you got any beers left?" I had one and gladly gave it to him, as we took off for a smooth flight home to Pennsylvania and an uneventful landing in Pittsburgh.

If you are like me, there isn't anything really funny about waiting for a plane to take off or land. Again traveling with the Maulers, after losing a close game to the Denver Gold, the team was kind of down and had to wait a long time on the ground in their seats because the guys driving the Maulers' equipment truck got lost on the way to the airport. At long last, everything was loaded on board, when the captain pops out of the cockpit to proclaim, "Sorry about the loss, guys, but don't worry. I'm Captain Budweiser, and I'll be flying you home to Pittsburgh." It was all I could do to restrain myself from jumping up and running out the door. Only the fear of losing my job, kept me buckled to my seat.