Quiet Strength (10 page)

It was Father’s Day weekend of 1981, my first year coaching with the Steelers. The phone rang late on Friday night, June 19. It was our chaplain, Hollis Haff, who told me he needed a last-minute speaker for the father-and-son breakfast at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Sewickley, just outside of Pittsburgh. Each year, one of the Steelers players or coaches spoke, but this year’s speaker, lineman Ted Petersen, had gotten sick.

I didn’t feel like getting up early—I had just walked in from an all-day, out-of-town football clinic. I think Hollis could read my mind. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but we’ve done this every year, and they’re really counting on us to have someone there. Ted’s sick, and I wouldn’t even ask, except . . .”

I told Hollis I’d do it as a favor to him.

The next morning I showed up at St. Stephen’s to meet with the senior pastor, Dr. John Guest. I made the appropriate apologies on behalf of Ted and the Steelers, and Dr. Guest asked if he could sit with me during the meal. “I’ve got a bio prepared on Ted, but I’m afraid I don’t know anything about you,” he said. “At least if we sit together while we eat, I could put together a reasonable introduction.”

During breakfast, I shared with Dr. Guest what I planned to say to the group. Thanks to my mom’s training, I never have been afraid to speak in public, and at that point, I was always ready to talk about my faith. Because it was an event for father and sons and I didn’t have any children of my own, I talked about a subject I knew something about and that most boys are interested in: athletics. In these types of settings, I often used 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 as my starting point. In that passage, Paul talks about competing and running to win. I told the group that we always have to be sure the prize we’re after is worthwhile. I explained that while the Super Bowl is a great goal, if it’s all we’re after, we’ll be disappointed when we get there.

When I finished speaking, Dr. Guest approached me again. “I’m not sure how to say this, but there’s a girl in my congregation here that you’ve really got to meet. I know this sounds strange since I’ve only been with you for an hour, but I think you two would be perfect for each other.”

I did my best to gently blow him off. “Hmmm, that’s interesting. Maybe . . . sure, we could do that sometime. Okay. Thanks.”

As I left, Dr. Guest could tell that I wasn’t taking him seriously. He called Hollis Haff later to get my phone number.

“Tony, I know you think this is crazy, but I’m serious,” he said when he called. “You really ought to meet this girl.”

I was thinking,
This church has five thousand people, and there are no single guys she can get attached to? What must she look like?

Dr. Guest called me three or four more times over the next couple of weeks, asking if he could simply introduce me to this girl. “That’s all I want to do. I’m just so certain that you will click and this will be perfect.”

Meanwhile, I was not quite so certain. “Maybe you could just give me her number,” I suggested. I thought that would get him to quit calling me and make all this go away.

“I’m sorry, Tony, but she’s not the type to take kindly to you calling her directly. I really need to do it this way—to introduce you.”

All the while, Dr. Guest was apparently trying the same tactics with the girl he wanted me to meet, and he wasn’t getting any further with her. I later learned that she was even less interested than I was. She was thinking,
Here’s a guy who played for the Steelers and now coaches with the Steelers, and he can’t get a date in Pittsburgh? What kind of a nerd must he be?

She was closer to the truth than I was. I was quiet and shy, and I wasn’t particularly interested in dating. I was more interested in finding a woman I could marry, and I figured that day wouldn’t come for a while yet.

After weeks of putting Dr. Guest off, I finally agreed to meet the girl. The Steelers were leaving to begin training camp on July 20, so I told him I would only be free the following day, Saturday, July 18. Dr. Guest then called the girl and pitched the idea that I would like to come by and meet her. She reluctantly agreed.

When I got to her house and she opened the door, I was stunned. Lauren Harris was
beautiful.
She reminded me of the way my mom looked when I was a young boy. She had a pretty smile and a thin, athletic build. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t already dating someone. She was dressed conservatively, like a schoolteacher, although at the time she was actually taking summer classes herself.

Lauren was pretty reserved, at least at first, not yet knowing this man the minister had sent to her door. And I was
nervous.
Her parents were both there, and her dad, Leonard, was gregarious and very friendly to me right from the start. He seemed to be moving a hundred miles an hour as he raced around, trying to get to work. I would later learn that this was par for the course for him. Her mom, Doris, looked as if she could have been Lauren’s older sister. She sat down in the kitchen with us, and we talked for a while, getting acquainted.

On his way out the door, Leonard asked me to share a little football advice with Chuck Noll. Then he was gone. As Lauren and her mom and I continued to talk, I became a little more comfortable and started to relax. Lauren was so genuine. She wasn’t trying to impress me; nor was she impressed that I was an NFL coach. In fact, not only was she
not
impressed that I was a coach with the Steelers, my job was actually a mark against me in her book. Her brothers had played football, and she didn’t care for the way girls had chased them all throughout high school simply because they were athletes.

We talked about her teaching—she taught sixth grade—and her involvement at her church. Right away I knew there was a gentle, caring side to this girl.

After only about twenty minutes, Lauren stood to leave. She had to get to her class, and I needed to head for work. At the end of that first meeting, I already knew there was something different about her. In the past, whenever I had met a girl, I immediately began to think about how I was going to tell her that I wasn’t interested in getting serious. With Lauren, however, I was trying to figure out a way to see her again. All of a sudden, this whole thing that I had been pushing away seemed to be a really good idea. I told her we’d be leaving soon for training camp but that Chuck always gave us Sundays off; maybe we could do something on the weekends. She said that would be fine.

We went to breakfast and church together the next Sunday and had a really nice time. We talked about things we each liked to do, and I learned that Lauren liked tennis. I dropped her back at her house, and . . . here’s where Lauren’s story diverges from mine. Since I’m the one telling the story, you’ll hear my version first, and then, to be fair, I’ll also give you her version—the
wrong
version.

As I dropped her off, I said, “I’m headed back to training camp, and I’ll be gone for the week, but if you wouldn’t mind giving me your number,
I’ll call you, and maybe we can play tennis sometime
.”

She heard—and swears to this day that I said—“. . . give me your number, and
maybe I’ll call you,
and we can play tennis sometime.” I can only assume she was too nervous to have heard me correctly. Or maybe—and I’m sure this is not the case—I was too nervous to have articulated my request correctly.

So there we were at her doorstep. I was thinking this was going well, while it turns out that she was mad and put off by my attitude. Although she thought I might be one of those guys who had a lot of girlfriends, she grudgingly gave me her number. I did in fact call that week from the hall phone in the dorm at camp. After that, we started to see each other more often. We went out every Saturday night during camp, and we also attended church together every Sunday morning in Pittsburgh. Lauren had been raised Catholic but was now attending that Episcopal church pastored by John Guest. After we went to church, we’d often have breakfast together in Sewickley, then try to do something fun before I had to head back to camp. We even played some tennis, with each of us winning our share of games.

We often spent time just talking, especially about Dr. Guest’s sermons and the lessons we had each taken from them. We also discussed Christian philosophy at length, which helped me see the world from Lauren’s perspective. Lauren’s faith was clearly very important to her.

In spite of the fact that I had been an athlete and was still involved in football, Lauren was beginning to fall for me just as I was for her. In fact, she was actually becoming a football fan for the first time.

Although I felt an immediate connection with Lauren, I remained a little cautious. Dating her had not been the result of a spontaneous decision. In fact, I had thought and prayed about it a lot before I ever called her after our first meeting. As I said, I never wanted to get too involved with someone I couldn’t see myself marrying. She was so pretty and seemed to be everything I was looking for in a woman, but I wanted to be sure it wasn’t just physical attraction.

Once I returned from camp, we began to see each other a little more during the season. But even so, our times together were infrequent and precious. The more time we spent together, however, the more certain I was that she was the one. Like many other times in my life, there was no booming voice from God or one defining moment when I realized that I wanted to marry Lauren. Somehow, I just knew God had led me to the right person.

It really didn’t take me long to see that Dr. Guest had been right about the two of us. By the fall of that year, I was ready to propose, although I’ll admit that proposing to Lauren was not my finest hour. One night that November, just four months after we met, we were sitting on her parents’ couch, and I began talking in general terms about the kind of woman I wanted to marry. I said I was looking for a woman who loved the Lord and wanted to use biblical principles to raise a family, someone who was generous and caring, and so on.

Of course, I was describing Lauren and leading into my proposal. But I later learned that as I was saying all these things, I hadn’t made this clear at all, and Lauren assumed I was asking for advice about somebody else. Until this point, we had never referred to ourselves as dating, we were just “hanging out.” A lot. Finally, I said I thought she fit all of those qualities I’d been looking for in a godly woman and that I thought we should get married. Still sitting, I began fishing in my left front pocket for the ring I had purchased for her.

She said yes, despite my failure to be eloquent—or to even get down on one knee. I was very excited and looking forward to married life, although I’m not sure Lauren could truly envision everything she was getting into.

The initial rapture of married life lasted well into the first day. Well, maybe
well into
is stretching it a little. We had waited until June to get married because Lauren wanted to spend her wedding night outside of Pittsburgh. She had visions of getting married and boarding a flight that day, so we had to wait until school was out. Since I had played football in San Francisco, we decided to start our honeymoon there before flying to Hawaii a few days later. I had pushed for staying the first night in the Pittsburgh Hilton, but my arguments fell on deaf ears. We set the ceremony for 1 p.m. so we could catch a flight for the West Coast that afternoon.

We planned a very small wedding because between Lauren’s teaching colleagues and Steelers coaches, players, and staff, we knew we’d never be able to cut the guest list without hurting someone’s feelings. We were married by John Guest in a lovely, intimate ceremony in Lauren’s church. Donnie Shell was my best man.

We left for San Francisco at 5 p.m., but since no direct flights were available, we arrived very late in the evening. We were exhausted from the long day and long flights even before we touched down. I had arranged to borrow a car from Paul Hofer, a former 49ers teammate. Paul and his wife met us at the airport and sent us on our way—in their convertible.

Lauren and I were beyond exhausted by this time, as it was now approaching midnight. I stopped at a convenience store on the way to the hotel, and things might have been fine had I not broken the car key off in the door. We found a pay phone and called Paul so he could bring us a spare key. By now it was late. Very late.

Barely functioning, we arrived at the hotel at 1 a.m., fifteen hours—with the time change—after our wedding ceremony had begun. Completely wiped out, we both tried valiantly to hang in there, finally stepping off the elevator on the eleventh floor. We looked at each other and smiled; we had survived the trip.

At that moment, the power in the hotel went out. Someone had cut a cable outside the building, and we were plunged into darkness. We felt our way down the hallway, finally finding our room. It had been a very long journey to this point, and I’ve often said that it’s all about the journey.

Not on June 19, 1982, it wasn’t.

Two days later, however, we were sitting blissfully on the beach in Hawaii, excited once again about our marriage and our life together under God’s watchful care. Any talk of “If we had just stayed the night at the
Pittsburgh Hilton
. . .” or “Even
borrowing
a car instead of renting one wouldn’t have been a problem if someone knew how to
work a car key
. . .” seemed like distant memories.

To this day, I tell Ted Petersen that if he hadn’t gotten sick, I’d still be single—and probably dateless.

Chapter Six: Learning to Lead