Stories of Steelers Mojination

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The Mojo was in full Mojination this past Saturday at Heinz Field, in the pubs, the eateries and homes of Steeler nation far and wide. This week has brought many stories of how fans changed the mojo of their normal routine at halftime of the playoff game this past Saturday when the men of steel were down 21-7.  Below you will find a great story about Franco Harris touching a fans terrible towel in the halls of Heinz Field last week.  Enjoy these great stories of mojination and more info below on how to send your stories in.

An Open Letter to Franco Harris

Everyone knows that the legacy and success of the Pittsburgh Steelers franchise is built on hard work, passion, toughness, and most importantly…magic.  As you look back over the years and championship rings several shining examples come to mind.  Four future Hall-of-Famers being drafted in the first 5 picks in 1974.  Ben Roethlisberger’s game-saving shoestring trip after Jerome Bettis’ goal line fumble in the 2005 divisional round (later to be known as, “The Tackle.”)  Randle El to Ward for a touchdown on a gadget play in Super Bowl XL.  Santonio’s epic game winning catch in Super Bowl XLIII.  Every single time “Renegade” is played at Heinz Field.  Are you getting the picture?

The mother of all magical Steelers moments is of course the only play in the history of sports that God has actually intervened in, the Immaculate Reception.  This was a play that scholars maintain led to the inevitable birth of Myron Cope’s magic-infused terrible towel years later.  The rest is history, as the sea of swirling yellow seen all across America’s football stadiums have slowly released this playoff magic to help bring the Pittsburgh Steelers six Lombardi trophies.
This past Saturday afternoon the terrible towel came full circle in a big way.  As one of the millions of superstitious Steelers fans on this planet I conserve my use of the Terrible Towel for the playoffs, in fear of using up its limited resource of magic that has been all but depleted since its inception in 1975.  As the turnovers and resulting Ravens’ scores mounted on the Black and Gold I looked at my tattered towel scared, confused, and near hopeless by halftime and down 21-7.  For the first time in my life I felt that my trusty towel had lost its power, that was, until I physically felt a presence in the room that compelled me to look over my shoulder.  There he was, number 32.  Divine intervention personified…Franco Harris.

Franco Harris had been put right next to me as I wandered the hallway of Heinz Field Club East looking for an answer.  My initial thought was to ask for an autograph, or even a picture.  But as a crowd of frantic fans swarmed him, I looked down at the tattered towel I still clutched in my hands and pushed my way through the crowd.  “Franco!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, as my best friend tried to stop me from embarrassing myself.  “Touch my towel!”  My odd request certainly got his attention as he turned his massive frame towards me with a look that seemed to say, “Who let you off your meds and where is my security?”

I pleaded with Mr. Harris to touch my towel to recharge it.  It had run out of magic and we would need it to win the game in the second half.  My combination of Coors Light/voodoo logic must have gotten through to him as he grabbed it between those giant paws that were sculpted by God, and rubbed it like he was starting a fire.  “Hope it helps, we’ll certainly need it,” he said as he tossed it back to me and headed for what I can only assume was his seat next to Saint Peter.  With my spirit and Terrible Towel recharged, I sprinted to my seat for the second half.
What happened next can be heard about via every single media outlet within 500 miles of Pittsburgh.  The Steelers rallied, the fans roared, Renegade was played and victory was had.  My Terrible Towel was waved with a passion and strength I had never felt before, and the newfound magic spread over Heinz Field with the light snow that moved in.

So this is a formal thank you, Franco.  Thank you for revitalizing my Terrible Towel and more importantly, my passion for Pittsburgh playoff football.  I have no idea how to contact you so I write this letter in hopes that you may see it and realize the impact you had on that game.  I can only hope that wherever you are you read this letter and, God willing, you touch every single Terrible Towel you see over the rest of this playoff run so we can keep this thing moving up our stairway to seven.

Thank you, and God Bless.
Respectfully yours (and still not worthy),
Shaun Greene
Pittsburgh, PA

Matt Pappas of tells his story of Mojination that include half eaten pizza and making his son leave the house. Read “Did you tweak your “mojo” on Saturday night? at


Many readers such as Bob Davis and tweeters and facebookers and friends have been mentioning the Myron Mojo as this Sunday is the birthday of the late great Myron Cope who would have been 82 and 8-2=6 which is the number of Super Bowls won by the Steelers and WOW! If that isn’t the mojo to end all mojo, holy Terrible Towel. YOI!  I expect a picture or video tribute to Myron’s birthday on the big screen at Heinz Field this Sunday. Look for two Renegades and a Myron to shake the seats and at Heinz Field that will be felt for mile and miles sending a tremor that all of Steeler nation will feel.

Dear Mr. Mojo and Mr. Ilkin,
During my days of high school football my Mom was not much into Steelers or football.  However, she began to take a keen interest in the game since I was in college years and especially enjoyed Tunch and the telestrator in the days of Sportsbeat.  I often joked to her and my Dad that she may have a little crush on the dear Tunch, which she has never denied. However, seven years later, last Sunday my Mom started going on about the power of seven and I think she was on her way to put tin foil on her head for any potential Jets conspiracies.  Could the Tunch’s lack of belief in the Mojo mean he’s losing his female fans?  Like Scrooge there is time to change Tunch.  While my mom is just a happily married adoring fan, who knows what your denial of the Mojo could lead you to lose next?  Go Stillers!

I was at my buddies house near Peoria, IL, I always go over there for the games, and had to leave at halftime.  By the time I got home, the Ravens had already fumbled! By the way, your voice sounds just like the great Cardinal announcer Mike Shannon, a perfect sports announcer’s voice!

Thanks to Chris M. for sending in this photo.

The Power Of 7
Adding To The Power of 7