Bedlam. Harris was running, the crowd was roaring, the referees were huddling. Had the ball touched a Raider after it bounced off Fuqua, or had it bounced from one Steeler to the next? The rules at the time didn’t allow a player to deflect a pass to his own teammate, even inadvertently.
It would have taken a bold official to rule the play illegal with a jubilant crowd spilling into the end zone around him, and of course the play stood.
Hours later, the broadcaster Myron Cope, himself a beloved Pittsburgh character, took a call from a listener whose friend had christened the play “The Immaculate Reception.” The legend had its necessary luster.
In a blink, Harris had become the prince of Pittsburgh. His fans, playing off his mother’s heritage, labeled themselves “Franco’s Italian Army” and even Frank Sinatra joined their ranks.
The Steelers lost to the Dolphins in the next round, but won four Super Bowls in the next eight years. Harris went on to become the second-leading rusher in league history, earn induction into the Hall of Fame and see his statue placed next to George Washington’s in Pittsburgh International Airport.
He remained humble, even as a 22-year-old in the delirious moment of his most famous touchdown. That grace and good will made him all the more beloved. His army of fans remains, if in unexpected mourning as we prepare to honor the anniversary of the catch that still conjures the thought of divine intervention.
Article source: https://www.nytimes.com/2022/12/22/sports/football/franco-harris-immaculate-reception.html