Reasons to Hate Steeler Fans

I've been thinking about some of the nasty events I've witnessed in the parking lots around Three Rivers Stadium and Heinz Field through the years. I think it has something to do with the constant barrage of barbs spewed at local Steeler fans by ESPN-Pittsburgh radio bloviator Mark Madden, too. (I never liked Madden, never will, probably.) Anyway, it reminded me: Steeler fans really can be cruel, crude, lewd, rude, violent, overbearing, ignorant, mean and foolish.

I realize the same can be said for the core fans of every pro football team -- especially the sad folks in Cleveland and Cinncinnati. But I digress.

It's not that there aren't a bevy of knowledgeable and fun-loving fans, too. It's just, when I look back, I remember being embarrassed by things I've witnessed a hell of a lot more than proud of the "classiness" I've seen being shown by the fans here in my hometown. (What I've witnessed and experienced on the road is fodder for another post some day.)

What always comes to my mind first was the occasion when a Cleveland fan was accosted in the parking lots outside of 3RS before the final visit of the old-era Browns. It was already kind of sad for Brahwnie fans -- they knew they were about to lose their team to Baltimore. But what happened to that dude still makes me shiver.

It was a bitter cold morning, and one group of Stiller "fans" had a fire going in one of those big, heavy gauge oil barrels. You know the kind of visual movies use to portray street bums trying to stay warm against a biting freeze? That's the scene. Except these bums were all wearing black & gold, with many bearing bold numbers like "12," "58," "75" and "95" on their jerseys. Not unusual, right? Except it dawned on me even then that it had been nearly 20 years since those numbers represented any of the players actually playing the game that day. (Well, except for #95 -- Greg Lloyd's Llunatics were still in full force that day, if memory serves me correctly?)

Most of the gang seemed to be in their 20s or early 30s at most. So, they had probably not "lived" through the Super Bowls. They were the next generation, much like the team was generations apart from the teams with those names on their jerseys.

We had been observing the antics of this particular set of lunatic bums from across the way. Our tailgate set-up was separated by a cyclone fence and a well traveled artery that was used to usher buses and parking traffic to the sea of parking spaces that surrounded the old park. (Thank goodness most of those "convenient spaces" are now a thing of the past, although I do miss some of the great tailgating we used to do there.) We saw orange hats being snatched out of unsuspecting buses only to be fed to the fire. At another point, someone delivered a Browns banner that gave the feeling of a third-world flag-burning protest of an imperial invader when it was set ablaze and paraded about. Somehow, a Christmas tree with brown and orange garland even made it onto the pyre at one point.

We had arrived at about 9 am to tailgate before the 1 pm kickoff. We watched the shenanigans from a distance for a few hours. At first, it seemed like some good, rowdy fun was being had. Still, I remember asking about the lack of security, and the amazement with how it seemed to be truly unchecked rowdy behavior, when something really disgusting happened.

Along the thoroughfare came an unfortunate guy wearing an orange tossle cap and a genuine NFL Properties "Browns Edition" nylon winter bomber coat. I don't remember if he had a beer can in his hands, but I know that most of the rowdy group he was about to encounter had one in theirs. The guy was getting catcalls all along the way, and since he was walking with someone wearing black and waving a terrible towel, it seemed to be mostly good-natured invective being shared between rival fans.

Someone from our party yelled out that the guy better watch his hat. And wouldn't you know it, the thing was snatched from his head within nanoseconds. He tried to follow the perpetrator thinking it was just a little monkey-in-the-middle business. He stopped running when he saw his cap being fed to the fire amid a crazed throng of loonies. Too late to save that bit o' memorabilia. He -- and we -- didn't realize that he was also displaying something the unruly band o' thugs would demand. Something that would make things suddenly get uglier, and colder, for him and us witnesses as well. That's right, his official Browns pelt, er, jacket.

I'm not sure if there was anything the guy could've done to save his "skin" at that point... But actively arguing with the mob around the fire was not atop anyone's list of bright ideas. By now, the thugs were happily "sharing" cans of beer with the Brahwnie fan. And with every splash sent his way, the situation worsened. Finally, a big oaf in a black #95 shirt grabbed Brahwnie by his collar. In pure hockey fight fashion, he had the bottom pulled up over the flailing dude's head in a single jerk. The next jerk had the coat completely off just as quickly. Fun and games among rivals, right? Surely he'd hand him back the coat with a warning and a playful kick in the ass?

Umm. No.

As the towel-toting companion held his friend back from a possible ugly mob beating, his coat was fed to the flames. Nylon mostly melts. But it does burn, too. And it seems to do so quickly in a high flame.

Somehow, any joviality surrounding the pregame tailgating ritual melted away in those moments as well. Loud profanities were shared in all directions, including a few choice words for the thugs from appalled Steeler supporters. The line had been crossed.

Finally, other more peaceful (less drunk?) Steeler fans were moving toward the drunken thug fans with enough outrage to let the gang know they had gone too far. A few minutes later, a single cop showed up on a motorcycle, and then some other parking lot security guys appeared and they turned the barrel over and spread the embers and ashes with their feet to douse the flames. The #95 thug had long disappeared into the crowds heading into the stadium for the kickoff.

The Brahwnie fan was ushered in the direction of the stadium, too. Whether he actually went into the stadium that day, or to a police station, is something I do not know.

It sure was cold, even for those of us prepared for the weather. Colder still, I'm sure, when your coat has been ripped from your body in a noontime, open view mugging.

The Steelers won. But what I witnessed that day still gnaws at me whenever I revisit the scene in my mind's eye. There is a degree of guilt for not doing something -- anything -- about what I could tell was developing trouble. But it is more the rage I feel against such boorish behavior in the guise of being a "fan."

I don't think I'd sit back and watch the events transpire the way I did that day. At least, I hope I wouldn't. And I hope any true Steeler fan would do the right thing if such ugliness threatens to rear its head this or any season. Enjoy the game. Cheer for your team. May the better team win, and if the Steelers aren't the better team, let's hope they find a way to win anyways. There shouldn't be reasons to hate any team's fans.