When the Pittsburgh Steelers play in the Super Bowl, America pays attention. At least it should (or did). The championship teams of the 1970s still reside in our collective memories of the “Me Decade,” alongside Donna Summer, Jimmy Carter, and Star Wars. I was born in 1976, the year of Pittsburgh’s second Super Bowl win, and by the age of four I was wearing Steelers jackets and winter hats––idiosyncratic for a boy growing up in Wisconsin, where, even when the Packers are bad (and they were awful then), they are still followed feverishly. Indeed, my first memory of any pro football player was Mean Joe Greene. Not of him sacking Fran Tarkenton or stuffing Earl Campbell, but slamming a Coke. That should tell you that the Steelers were a great team – and also a lucky one, for they ascended to prominence as the Super Bowl, and the NFL itself, was doing much the same.