(Reunion story starts about 8 paragraphs down...you'll enjoy this!)

Reunions are really masquerade balls

              Joe Greene and Roy Jefferson were all smiles as they swapped stories at the 34^th Annual Andy Russell Celebrity Classic dinner at Heinz Field last Thursday night.

              They were the two greatest players on Chuck Noll’s first Steelers’ squad back in 1969.  Greene was the team’s No. 1 draft choice out of North Texas State and the building block for what became the greatest team in the National Football League in the ‘70s.  Jefferson was a talented veteran receiver, the best player left over from the ill-fated Bill Austin days.

              Noll traded Jefferson to the Washington Redskins after one season because their personalities clashed.  Noll regarded Jefferson as a clubhouse lawyer, someone who resisted his rule and was poisoning young players such as Greene. He had to go.  It would be interesting how Noll might have handled the Ben Roethlisberger affair.  You can be sure he would never have allowed any Steelers who willingly left the team as free agents to return to the fold.  That would never happen under Noll.

              Jefferson spotted me approaching him and Greene at the Russell gala, and offered his best grin.  He told Greene a story about he hadn’t seen me since the mid-60s when we met at Andy Russell’s golf outing three years ago.  When Jefferson saw me that time, at a dinner at The Club at Nevillewood, he shouted, “You’re old, but I can still see your face!”

              He meant the face I had when we first met.

              We embraced and had a good time telling stories about those bad old days.  I was publishing and editing a weekly tabloid called “Pittsburgh Weekly Sports” with Beano Cook back in the mid-60s when Austin was the coach of some weak Steelers’ teams.

              Jefferson’s remark came to my mind several times last week during a series of reunions that I enjoyed.  First, there was the dinner at Heinz Field where so many of Russell’s teammates and some worthy NFL foes as well were gathered.  The following day was the first of three days I spent signing my books during an autograph signing weekend celebrating the Pirates and even a few Yankees from the 1960 World Series teams.  That was during a sports card show at Roberto Morris University.
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              Then, too, I joined my classmates from the 1960 graduation class of Taylor Allderdice at our 50^th anniversary reunion at the Green Oaks Country Club in Verona on Saturday night.   We graduated in June of 1960 and I entered the University of Pittsburgh in September of that same year and a month later the Pirates were playing the mighty New York Yankees of Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris and Yogi Berra just two blocks away from the Pitt Student Union at old Forbes Field.

              So the Pirates are making the 50^th anniversary of that event with several special promotions this summer and fall.

              Seeing the Steelers from the ‘70s, the Pirates and my classmates from the ‘60s made for a special and demanding weekend.  I managed to join my over-the-hill gang for two hours of full-court basketball on Saturday and Sunday morning.  My wife Kathie was away all week, joining three of her friends on a girls’ only getaway at a resort along Lake Michigan in Wisconsin.  I didn’t sleep well most of the week, got up much too early every day, and was positively wired by the weekend and the accompanying emotional highs and lows.

              None of us looked the same as we did when we first met.  That was particularly true at my high school reunion.  I have seen many of the Pirates and Steelers through the years and saw the change gradually.  I had not seen some of my high school classmates in seven years – since we had a “Class of ’60 Turn 60 reunion at Station Square.  Many of them I had not seen in 50 years.

              We all had name tags.  I was grateful they didn’t have those name tags where they have your high school yearbook photo above your name so your classmates can better recognize you and make the connection.  This time everyone seemed to be squinting or lifting their glasses up or down to better make out the name tag.

              I found myself talking to people for ten minutes before I knew just who the hell I was talking to.  Sometimes it didn’t kick in until five minutes after I had stopped talking to them. Then I’d go after them so I could say something that made sense.  I think I spent most of my time at Allderdice trying to entertain the girls who sat near me in the classrooms.  As I spoke to them, I was aware that I felt so much more confident in conversation than I did when we were students at Allderdice.

              Some of them came up to say hello.  One looked just like she did when she sat on my left side in our homeroom.  The other looked good, but also like a completely different person.  Have you ever watched that show “Cold Case” on TV?  You know how the faces wash away and look like they did twenty or thirty years earlier?

              Well, that’s what it was like at my high school reunion.  I’d be talking to someone and suddenly I would see them as they were when we were teenagers.  That was usually better in most cases.  I was surprised that some of us looked like our parents – no make that grandparents -- looked when we were in school.  The late Lena Horne might have looked beautiful at 67, but most of us require some makeup.

             At my reunion last Saturday night, I felt like we were all wearing masks, like it was a masquerade ball.           

              We all conceded that it was difficult to comprehend that 50 years – yes, 50 YEARS!!! – had passed since we were in high school.  I came to Allderdice midway through my sophomore year.  I had gone to Central Catholic for my first year and a half of high school.  I was a better student at Central Catholic – I made the honor roll all six terms – but that I learned more at Allderdice.  I never made the honor roll at Allderdice.  There was little discipline at Allderdice and I did whatever I wanted to do.

              Asked what one of my favorite memories was at Allderdice I replied that it was playing hooky.  That’s why I never would want to be home schooled.  How can you play hooky?  I often went downtown during the school day with buddies of mine, as well as some girls from time to time, and spent time at pool halls, burlesque houses and other interesting places.  I didn’t have a plan at the time that I should go there to view interesting scenes and meet interesting characters, but I guess I was drawn to that kind of pastime because I was a budding writer.

              Some of my ’60 classmates drew a blank when they saw me at the reunion on Saturday night.  “I don’t remember you,” several said to me.  I was tempted to respond, “I don’t remember you either,” but I decided to be at my diplomatic best, and try not to annoy anyone.  Girls who never spoke to me at Allderdice were coming over and saying hello.  Why did they wait so long?  One girl – I can’t refer to them as women even now – asked me to sign her yearbook.  I told her it was about time she asked.

              It’s a good thing my wife didn’t come.  I would have loved to have shown her off.  That way my classmates would know I fared well after our Allderdice days.  But I was freer to do some table hopping and sit down next to all those girls and tell them some stories about our Allderdice days.  I was treated well.

              My heart started beating faster as I first approached the club.  I worried too much how it would go.  I used to feel this way when I walked across the floor at dances and worried that a girl might decline my offer to dance.  If they did that walk back to where your buddies were standing was like walking on hot coals.

              There was appropriate music from the ‘60s at the ballroom of the Green Oaks Country Club but I didn’t ask anybody to dance.  I decided in advance not to get carried away with myself on the dance floor.  I do that too often at wedding receptions, thinking I am a reincarnation of Chubby Checker or Fats Domino.

              I’m glad I went.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to go without my wife.  Would I look like a loser who couldn’t get a date for the reunion?  Would I know anyone?  As soon as I walked into the country club I saw some smiling faces of guys I recognized, guys I had bumped into on one occasion or another in recent years.  They greeted me warmly and said they were glad I came.  I think I was the last one there because I was tied up earlier at the ’60 Pirates show at Robert Morris University.  So I showed up fashionably late.

                             When Kathie called me on her cell phone on Sunday afternoon, a few hours before I was to pick up her and a friend at the airport close by the Robert Morris campus, she asked me, “Well, do I still have a husband?”  She’s quite the kidder, huh?

              Kathie’s cousin met her second husband at a high school reunion and they have lived happily ever since, and this may have prompted Kathie’s comment.  I told her I was happier than ever to have her as my soul mate.

              I was able to do more schmoozing without her, and she didn’t have to suffer hearing any of the history of our high school days.  I actually had a better time at her high school reunions than I think she did, but that’s just the difference in our personalities.

              I caught her up quickly on the highlights of my high school reunion and I could tell after awhile that she didn’t need all the details.

              I had a good time at Robert Morris University, too.  I taught classes in journalism and public relations there for several years so the campus is a familiar one.  I had not done a card show in ten years and I used to do them regularly.  So it was good to get back on the circuit again.  I spent time with a lot of good and interesting people over a three-day span.  Seeing so many sports cards brought back a lot of good memories of my life as a sportswriter.

              The ’60 Pirates are still my favorite team, just ahead of the Steelers of the ‘70s.  Jeff Stogner, the New Yorker who promotes these card shows, loves Bill Mazeroski and the ’60 Bucs.  “They are the easiest bunch of athletes to deal with,” said Stogner when I asked him about the ’60 Bucs.  “They have always been class acts.”  We should all strive to have that kind of a reputation. 

              Mazeroski still takes the time to sign his signature the same way he always has signed his name, clearly and distinctly with just a little flair.  Dick Groat and El Roy Face have nice, legible signatures.  They write in a script style they were taught in school.  Many of today’s athletes create a new signature for signings and it’s often a shorthand method.  They are hard to read and make out.  You’re not always sure who signed something.  Jack Lambert wears a ballcap down over his eyes, dark sun glasses, seldom smiles, and writes his autograph in a dismissive style.  Lynn Swann believes he is doing you a favor.

              The ’60 Bucs don’t short-change anyone.  They smile, say something to each person, and seem grateful to be asked for their autograph.  Maz doesn’t do many signings anymore, but he does them for Stogner.  “We’re friends,” said Stogner.  After appearing at so many of these signings at Robert Morris, Maz still draws a crowd.  He signed over 400 autographs this time at $35 to $65, depending on what he signed.  Stogner set the prices.  Maz would do it for free.

              Some of the players didn’t draw flies.  It would have been nice, for instance, if Yogi Berra or Moose Skowron or Tony Kubek would have agreed to attend this show, but we had to settle for Bob Turley, Bobby Shantz and Art Ditmar.  Who would want to pay $10 for an autograph from Eli Grba or $15 for the signature of Hector Lopez?  Not many.

              When I asked Stogner if anyone else he ever worked with wrote as nice a signature as Maz he responded, “Yes, Mickey Mantle.”  That is nice to know.

              Maz told my friend Herb Soltman, by the way, that he expects to be out at the wall that remains of Forbes Field this October 13 to mark the 50^th anniversary of the most magic moment in Pittsburgh sports history.  I hope to be there as well.

              It was a four-day weekend that sparked many great memories and reminded me of how fortunate I have been to have met so many special individuals in my life.  I was right on time to pick up Kathie at the airport and I held onto her hand all the way home.  She still looks the same as the day I married her, and that still ranks as the best day of my life.  Maz and Mantle have their best days and I have mine.  I only hit one home run in my life – and that was in Little League and barely cleared the left field fence.   But I still feel like I hit a home run on Saturday, August 12, 1967, the day I got married.