For Whom Big Ben Tolls

If you know much of anything about my father you know he loves the Pittsburgh Steelers. I don’t believe his entrance into glory changed that. In heaven, after all, when we are glorified we are even more us than we are now. What you may not know about him is that he almost enjoyed the offseason as much as the season. He was a draftnik before Mel Kiper needed his first haircut. He studied scouting reports, watched film. In fact, probably the one question he asked me more than any other was this, “What three positions would you draft in the first three rounds?”

He treated the draft itself like it was the Super Bowl. If he believed it went well for the Steelers he was elated. Otherwise it was another soul crushing loss. Over the years there were drafts he was excited about that turned out to be bad ones, others he was upset about that turned out to be good ones. And others where his early assessment proved accurate. One draft, however, stands out above all others in my memory. (No, those of you in the know, I don’t remember his reaction to the Steeler’s legendary, greatest ever draft of 1974. I was 8.) It was when the Steelers drafted Big Ben Roethlisberger. He was over the moon.

Over many of the ensuing years we watched Ben together more times than I can remember. There were moments of disappointment when my father would quietly scold him, “Oh Ben,” he’d say, as if Ben were a pet that had just soiled the carpet- disappointment muted by love and appreciation.

My father entered His reward four years ago. Big Ben is hanging up his cleats after 18 seasons. In zero of those seasons did the Steelers have a losing record. In 11 of those seasons he led us into the playoffs. In three he lead us to the Super Bowl. In two he hoisted the Lombardi trophy. In 18 he gave fans like me and my father reasons to hope, to believe, to rejoice. Together my father and I watched Ben become big, to mature, to grow into his cleats. We watched him weather storms, extend plays, sling the rock, weep, comfort, inspire, serve. We watched him stand tall when surrounded by his enemies, and get back up when they knocked him down. Spanning the Brett Favre/Peyton Manning/Aaron Rodgers/Tom Brady eras Ben earned one record that surpassed them all- he was sacked more than any quarterback in NFL history.

I am grateful for what Big Ben did for my team and my hometown. I’m even more grateful for what he did for my great hero, another great quarterback, my father. I’m most grateful for how Ben, young enough to be my much, much younger brother, made me feel like a little boy again, sitting with my dad, watching the Steelers. Were it any other team I’d be in sackcloth thinking of the typical dark years that tend to follow after the retirement of a franchise quarterback, but the Steelers fielded amazing teams in the interregnum between Bradshaw and Ben. I’m confident they’ll do it again. Still, I look forward to the day when Ben, my dad and I get to talk. “Remember when…”

God blessed you Ben with skill and a determination to succeed. God blessed me with a father who loved you and loved me. God blessed all three of us with His Son, our elder Brother. May He continue to bless you and the Pittsburgh Steelers.