Phil Villapiano through the Pittsburgh airport. It is late Wednesday evening, three days before Christmas. Even at 73, he still looks like a linebacker — sturdy chest, stout shoulders, steel chin. His hair is white, but his eyes dance the way they have for decades.
Villapiano should hate Pittsburgh. He was an Oakland Raider in the 1970s, which means Pittsburgh or the Steelers or really anything with black and gold ought to make his blood run hot. The Raiders and Steelers despise each other. Everyone knows this.
But Villapiano is different. It doesn’t matter that he was in the middle of the play that birthed all the animosity. It doesn’t matter that the weird and controversial and historic “Immaculate Reception” happened right in front of him.
Villapiano knows most who love the Raiders think of Franco Harris as a villain. Only he doesn’t feel anger. Not for Harris. It almost surely gets lost in the history and controversy and drama of it all, but the most meaningful story to come out of the most famous play in NFL history might have been this beautiful, unlikely friendship between two men who were on opposite sides. Over the past 50 years, Villapiano and Harris have eaten together and gone to events together. They have brought their kids together and told stories together. They have shared time. They have shared memories.
In fact, every year on Dec. 23, Harris will call Villapiano and say, “Hey Phil, what were you doing this time 30 years ago?” and Villapiano will growl and grimace and shout out, “We were getting screwed!” and they will laugh and laugh. It is how they say, “I love you.”
So this year, three days before Christmas, Villapiano comes to Pittsburgh. He is here for the game between the Raiders and Steelers where the NFL will celebrate 50 years since the Immaculate Reception. He is here to see the Steelers retire Harris’ number. He is here to honor his friend.
“I came to be with my buddy,” Villapiano says in the airport on Wednesday night, pausing in front of the statue of Harris that greets everyone coming off a plane. Then he takes a breath, bends down and signs the book that was placed in front of the statue early that morning.
“Franco,” he writes in swooping script. “You were the best. I will miss you.”
Fossil
Article URL : Harris, Villapiano and the Immaculate Reception of 1972