The Steelers are the greatest show on television

My watch alerted me that my heart rate was too high for someone who “wasn’t moving.” I found my right leg restlessly bouncing, making my whole body and the chair I occupied shake a little.

Late Sunday night, perhaps around 11 p.m., I turned to my husband and asked him: “This is only a television show, right? Why am I freaking out so much? Why do I care so much? Why is my body on full alert?”

He laughed, pointing out his own restless leg — he cared just as much as I did.

Moments later, I looked at my ceiling, the television, and then the ceiling again, silently asking the God of All Sports to intervene. “Please,” I said, despite not usually condoning any form of idolatry, “let us stop them for the next 33 seconds. I don’t ask for much, oh, God of All Sports.”

In case extra politeness mattered to minor deities, I tacked on another “please.”

And then, just as I’d all but given up, the God of All Sports answered my prayer — the Baltimore Ravens kicker missed a field goal and the Steelers advanced to the playoffs, squeaking by after one of the most dramatic quarters in NFL history.

In my basement TV room, the joy could not be contained. We danced. We hugged. We high-fived. The dog woke up and barked in mild concern.

“This,” I said to my husband, “is the greatest show on television.”

Make a big noise

“Whether a fan sees sport as an escape or a mirror of society, a window into what is going on or a way to avoid what is going on, the bottom line is always that sport matters,” wrote Amy Bass, professor of sport studies at Manhattanville University, in CNN.

We know this well in Pittsburgh, or as a friend’s t-shirt declares us, “the City of Champions and Home of the Pirates.” Rooting for our sports teams is one of the few things that bonds people in the city and suburbs alike (sorry, local Browns fans).

In fact, love of sports worldwide transcends even political and religious differences. Every year, my family makes an effort to catch one Steelers game in person, and every year, I enjoy exchanging a happy “Here we go!” with my fellow fans as we walk into the stadium.

I don’t need to know anything else about them, nor do I need to: they’re Steelers Nation, just like me. And for 17 thrilling regular-season episodes a year, that’s enough.

The mood of the city can depend on our teams. We are happier when they thrive, no matter what else may be taking place in the world at large. Victory on the field or on the ice is enough to collectively whip us all into a tizzy, as happened on Sunday.

Even the people who don’t care about any kind of “sportsball” notice it.

“People are crazy happy at my coffee shop this morning,” an indifferent friend wrote Monday morning on social media. “Did anything happen? What did I miss?”

Mud on your face

There’s an argument to be made that sports are a combination of both spectacle and militarism, like the gladiator games in ancient Rome, but with better production values — and less blood.

We find glory on the field. And to see the men and women that represent us, whether it’s Team USA or something far more local, like a neighborhood softball team, succeed, brings out the best in us all.

But the Steelers are something else. It feels like every year, especially in the era of head coach Mike Tomlin, we lose to bad teams, beat good teams, and depend on some kind of last-minute miracle, to get through. It’s been a long time since I felt comfortable in the fourth quarter of a Pittsburgh game.

Last week against the Browns, the Steelers almost pulled off a victory in the final drive. And there are so many games like that, and like last night’s. Being a Steelers fan means existing in a state of permanent anxiety, until the clock winds down, and we can all claim the inevitability of the result.

When the Steelers win, it’s despite their coaches and players. When they lose, it’s because of their coaches and players. We can love our team, while also booing them on the field. It’s hard to explain our fandom to people that aren’t from here.

“Why do you boo your own team so much?” a friend texted me this morning. “Because we love them,” I replied.

Waving your banner all over the place

There are teams in the NFL that make winning look easy. I’m thinking of not-this-year’s Kansas City Chiefs, or the New England Patriots of a decade ago. Not us. We work for every victory, as is our way.

I enjoy watching the Steelers, the way I enjoy any good television show, as well as other expressions of human creativity. Watching human beings catch impossible passes, tackle an opponent and, yes, miss a kick, rivals any all forms of creative expression. Sports, like many other arts, can induce the full spectrum of human emotions. And when it comes to provoking a strong reaction, there’s nothing like a Pittsburgh team.

Because of this, I love the Steelers. Even when they lose. But especially when they win. Like I suggested: there’s no better show in town.

Adriana E. Ramírez is the editor of InReview, a member of the editorial board and a columnist for the Post-Gazette. She is the author of “The Violence,” available April 2026 from Scribner.