I mentioned Danny Vecchio earlier encountering him for the first time while staying at big Paul’s house in Monroeville during August of ‘89. Dan was around 5’8 and kind of built like a teddy bear. He wasn’t overweight, but he wasn’t skinny. He wore glasses and a mustache that seemed to suit him well. Dan would have been perfectly cast as Mr. Beaver in The Chronicles of Narnia. As the fall of 1989 unfolded, Dan would become a good friend. It seemed an unlikely pairing, the recent college grad with an accounting degree and the sports obsessed 14-year-old from Chicago. But Danny was a huge sports fan as well, and loved to have animated discussions about football, basketball, baseball, as well as boxing.
Soon after my mom had started her job as a housekeeper/nanny for the Lieberman’s in Squirrel Hill, Mr. Lieberman was kind enough to give her two season tickets for the Pittsburgh Steeler home games. Mom gave the tickets to me and suggested that I invite Danny. For three years, in the fall of 1989, 1990, and 1991, we would go to the Steeler home games at Three River’s Stadium. The Steelers were an ordinary team during this period, but that didn’t affect the passion of the fans that attended the games. Pittsburgh Steeler football fans were serious about their support. I honestly have to hold up my hands and admit that the Steelers have a more rabid fan base than the Chicago Bears. Now remember, the Bears were coming off their most successful 5 year stretch in modern times. Chicago fans were loyal and passionate. Steeler fans were on another level entirely. The team was 10 years removed from the glory days of Terry Bradshaw, Franco Harris, and “Mean” Joe Greene. However, the Steelers were still the dominant sports team in Pittsburgh. By a mile.
Me and Dan would go to Three Rivers and grab a hot chocolate. We would then scream and holler at their hapless quarterback Bubby Brister and the sterile Pittsburgh offense. The Steelers had Louie Lipps, a talented wide receiver. After that it was slim pickings offensively. Merril Hoge and Tim Worley were the running backs and Chuck Noll served up a stale formula of running the ball ineffectively and predictable 3rd down incompletions from Brister. Defensively the team was stout and a young Greg Lloyd was already an intimidating presence.
A game that stands out in the memory was when they took on the Cincinnati Bengals in October of 1989. It was a hard fought, entertaining game. It was late in the 4th quarter, the Steelers were trailing by three points, but you felt the momentum turning towards the black and gold. Greg Lloyd and Keith Willis had registered back sacks. The Bengals were on their own 35-yard line. The stadium was shaking as the fans were on their feet. It was 3rd and 27. The Steelers were going to get the ball back and march down the field to win the game. Begin watching at the 5:43 mark to see how the end unfolds.:
James Brooks ran for a 65-yard touchdown, shaking off Rod Woodson and coasting into the end zone. The stadium went silent, and I have never seen the energy sucked out of a public space so quickly. Since I was not a true Steeler’s fan, I would enjoy the games without getting too wound up about the result. Dan, while he would be initially ticked off about losses, did not wear the disappointment for long. We always had a good time watching the Steelers. Much of the game was spent laughing at how inept the offense was and wondering how the hell Bubby Brister was a quarterback in the NFL. Bubby Brister, even the name suggests comical incompetence……to be fair he was about the equivalent of the Bear’s Jim Harbaugh. Translation: Both teams had very mediocre quarterbacks.
Weekends would follow a familiar pattern: Danny would pick me up late afternoon on a Saturday. He and Michelle would turn-up in what I think was a Dodge Aries but I am not positive. It was definitely a Dodge. We would stop off at a store to load up on snacks, chips, and pop, grab a pizza from somewhere and head back to Dan and Michelle’s apartment. Dan may have loved snacks and pizza even more than me! Then we would turn on whatever sporting event was on. Normally it would be football or college basketball, but of course what I got the most excited about was boxing.
As I had become a huge boxing fan during 8th grade, my interest in the sport had only intensified since I had moved to Pittsburgh. I think Danny took great amusement in how excitable I would become watching a fight unfold, especially if I had a rooting interest. I remember very well in April of 1990 going over to Danny’s parent’s house to watch Michael Nunn-Marlon Starling. It was actually a fairly unremarkable fight, but I was so dialed into the fight that after the 4th or 5th round my calculations of punches landed was the exact same as the HBO compubox statistics. His parents were very kind people. I came away with the feeling that Dan had grown up in a solid, loving family environment.
On Saint Patrick’s Day of 1990, we watched what was the best fight of 1990 over at his apartment with Michelle. Julio Cesar Chavez versus Meldrick Taylor was probably the most dramatic sporting event of 1990. I was a huge Meldrick Taylor fan. He was a Philly fighter who had won Olympic gold in 1984 at the age of 17. He was athletic, brave, with some of the quickest hands I have ever seen. Chavez had already entered the pantheon of all-time great Mexican fighters. He had a jaw-dropping record of 66-0. When these two fighters faced off in Las Vegas, they gave the viewing public a battle of historically high drama. Taylor fought the fight of his life. He used his speed and combination punching to great effect. He chose to fight most of the fight toe-to-toe with Chavez. Taylor’s volume punching and more eye-catching shots saw him establish a clear advantage. There was a heavy price to be paid for his bravery. Nothing that Chavez did was flashy, but his punches carried more power and Taylor’s face began to bleed and swell as the fight wore on. Chavez delivered the type of punches that stayed with a fighter. While he was stunned by the blazing speed of the punches that Taylor was nailing him with, Chavez would counter with thudding shots that gradually took their toll on the younger fighter. I still remember Chavez’s corner pleading with him before the start of the 12th round to fight for his family, his children, anything they could think of to motivate the man.
The best fight that I ever saw. The skill level, the talent, the desire, and the drama still stir deep emotion when I revisit Taylor-Chavez
At the end of the fight, I looked at Dan with a look of stunned shock on my face. I was at a loss for words. For me, there was no other sport that could arouse these kinds of deep emotions. The fight effectively ruined Taylor as a fighter, but on that night more than 31 years ago, he was incredible.
We also attended a couple of University of Pittsburgh Panther basketball games as well. The team was above average but nothing special. The names that stay in the memory are Darelle Porter, Sean Miller, and the one, the only, Darren Morningstar. Morningstar was this giant, lumbering white kid from Montana who sported a big mullet and couldn’t jump over a Sunday newspaper. Morningstar was slow, awkward, and appeared fairly witless out on the court. Pitt competed in the Big East and he would get absolutely pulverized against future NBA stars like Derrick Coleman and Alonzo Mourning. Whenever he actually did something positive in a game Dan would love it. We laughed our asses off watching this giant lump wandering around the court getting dunked on and using his 5 fouls as quickly as he could.
Darren Morningstar
Dan had a great sense of humor and he was passionate about sports. He countered some of my insane intensity by matching my craziness, but also having a laugh at the same time. We had a gas many a weekend watching sports, playing nerf basketball and always having lively discussions. God bless Michelle, I don’t know how many Saturday nights I imposed on. She wasn’t nearly as concerned with sports and our foolishness. But Michelle was fundamentally a very nice person. I am sure there is a place reserved in heaven for her after putting up with me jumping around their living room and taking up her boyfriend’s Saturday nights for nearly three years. Looking back, I wonder if they picked up on the fact that I was struggling to adjust to life in Pittsburgh. Dan adopted the role of a big brother type figure. I don’t recall opening up to Dan about anything personal that I was going through. However, I am certain that if I had he would have been a great friend to lean on.
Aside from being a fellow sports nut with a great sense of humor, Danny also stepped up when I was trying to get my driver’s license in Pittsburgh. My God was that a humbling experience. In Pittsburgh, the way that one obtained a driver’s permit was by passing a test at the DMV. But it was not in a car and it was not a written test. The exam was presented in an automated, multiple choice format. The individual then clicks on what they thought was the correct answer. I studied for the test and promptly failed it. I was stunned and embarrassed. Danny offered to help me study and we went to the library in Oakland. We must have been there 4-5 hours studying for that damn test. I went back to the DMV and promptly failed the test again. Now this failure had grown from embarrassing to abject humiliation. I was mortified and there was a numbness of disbelief about what had just transpired. Dan did his best to try and cushion the blow but even he must have been dumbfounded as to how I had failed the test.
Looking back, the questions on the test were multiple choice, but phrased in a way that left considerable ambiguity. I would begin to second guess myself and that would lead to uncertainty. But no matter what way you slice or dice it, I managed to screw up what should have been a fairly routine test not once, but twice!
I did not get my driver’s license until the summer of 1992 back in Chicago over at Amundsen public high school. What a different experience! I took the daily classes and actually drove a car each day. We had a great Driver’s Ed teacher. He was a football coach and a big black man with a big personality. He basically coached his students to consistently drive 5 miles over the speed limit and kept us relaxed behind the wheel. After taking classes for maybe a month I was given a waiver allowed me to forego the official test. If I had stayed in Pittsburgh, it is entirely possible that I would still be taking public transportation!
Dan also took me shopping when it was time to buy a suit for my Confirmation. Since I had attended a non-denominational, evangelical Christian grade school, I had yet to be confirmed in the Catholic Church. This was of utmost importance to my mom. I was not a big fan of CCD class and she often times would have to berate me to get my lazy ass to go. For the uninitiated, CCD stands for Confraternity of Christian Doctrine. I almost always dragged my heels and tried to weasel out of attending class. It is easily the most annoyed my mom would get in the entire time we lived in Pittsburgh. The CCD classes took place at Oakland Catholic. That probably explains why the entire class was made up of 7th grade girls. I think I was a sophomore at this point. It somehow added to the sad state of affairs that I was by far the oldest kid in a CCD class of junior high girls.
Strangely enough, the girls got along with me pretty well. As low as I had sunk in Pittsburgh, I wasn’t at the point where I was trying to impress 7th grade girls. There was a very sweet girl who had a significant physical handicap with her leg in our class. She had blond hair and a kind, friendly smile. Her name escapes me, but I remember that we had to complete an activity where we had to write a complimentary statement about our classmates. She wrote something to the effect that I was “cool”. It was a genuinely nice gesture and there was a real sincerity on her part. It definitely must have been my black and red Adidas jacket that impressed her.
By the time Confirmation rolled around my junior year, Dan took me to the mall to get a suit for the occasion. I recall thinking at the time that boys my age would be getting a suit for junior prom. Meanwhile, here I was getting fitted for confirmation, an event that should have occurred three years prior. But Dan never made me feel badly about anything. There was never a discouraging or derogatory word from Danny Vecchio. He was just one hell of a good guy and a really good friend when I needed one.
Gospel Outreach School and High School Memories 1988-1992 