Franco Harris, the Hall of Fame running back whose heads-up thinking authored ‘The Immaculate Reception,’ considered the most iconic play in NFL history, has died at 72.
Harris’ son Dok told The Associated Press his father passed away overnight. No cause of death was given.
His death comes two days before the 50th anniversary of the play that provided the jolt that helped transform the Steelers from also-rans into the NFL’s elite and three days before Pittsburgh is scheduled to retire his No. 32 during a ceremony at halftime of its game against the Las Vegas Raiders.
With Pittsburgh trailing 7-6 and facing fourth-and-10 from their own 40 yard line and 22 seconds remaining in the fourth quarter, Bradshaw drifted back and threw deep to running back French Fuqua. Fuqua and Oakland defensive back Jack Tatum collided, sending the ball careening back toward midfield in the direction of Harris.
While nearly everyone else on the field stopped, Harris kept his legs churning, snatching the ball just inches above the Three Rivers Stadium turf near the Oakland 45 then outracing several stunned Raider defenders to give the Steelers their first playoff victory in the franchise’s four-decade history.
But the play was not without controversy.
NFL rules at the time dictated that a receiver could not record a legal catch if the pass was first touched by another offensive player. So the question remains: Did the ball touch off Oakland’s Tatum or Pittsburgh’s Fuqua before falling into Harris’ outstretched arms.
While the Steelers are inclined to believe it was Tatum, upholding Harris’ touchdown, Raiders players have accused officials of an act of cowardice: Overruling an illegal reception for fear of their own safety.
‘We wandered over to hear what they were talking about,’ Raiders safety George Atkinson told the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette in 2012 (re-reported by Mike Tanier for Bleacher Report in 2016). ‘We thought they were deciding if the play was dead; instead, they were concerned about security. I heard it with my own ears.’
Officiating crew chief Fred Swearingen was seen walking over to the Pittsburgh Pirates’ dugout at multi-purpose Three Rivers Stadium. Once inside, he is said to have placed a call to NFL executive Art McNally, but details of their conversation remain murky.
Keep in mind, this was decades before instant replay in the NFL, so the purpose of the call wasn’t immediately clear to players.
But Atkinson claims Swearingen made the call to check on security for himself and his crew, and not liking what he’d heard in response, decided to please the local fans by ruling a touchdown. ‘They were concerned how much security was there if they made the wrong call,’ Atkinson said. ‘Other than that, why would they have to call upstairs? For what? There was no instant replay. They were calling security there.’
While the Steelers fell the next week to Miami in the AFC Championship, Pittsburgh was on its way to becoming the dominant team of the 1970s, twice winning back-to-back Super Bowls, first after the 1974 and 1975 seasons and again after the 1978 and 1979 seasons.
Harris, the 6-foot-2, 230-pound workhorse from Penn State, found himself in the center of it all. He churned for a then-record 158 yards rushing and a touchdown in Pittsburgh’s 16-6 victory over Minnesota in Super Bowl IX on his way to winning the game’s Most Valuable Player award. He scored at least once in three of the four Super Bowls he played in, and his 354 career yards rushing on the NFL’s biggest stage remains a record nearly four decades after his retirement.
Born in Fort Dix, New Jersey, on March 7, 1950, Harris played collegiately at Penn State, where his primary job was to open holes for backfield mate Lydell Mitchell. The Steelers, in the final stages of a rebuild led by Hall of Fame coach Chuck Noll, saw enough in Harris to make him the 13th overall pick in the 1972 draft.
‘When (Noll) drafted Franco Harris, he gave the offense heart, he gave it discipline, he gave it desire, he gave it the ability to win a championship in Pittsburgh,’ Steelers Hall of Fame wide receiver Lynn Swann said of his frequent roommate on team road trips.
The city’s large Italian-American population embraced Harris immediately, led by two local businessmen who founded what became known as ‘Franco’s Italian Army,’ a nod to Harris’ roots as the son of an African-American father and an Italian mother.
The ‘Immaculate Reception’ made Harris a star, though he typically preferred to let his play and not his mouth do the talking. On a team that featured big personalities in Bradshaw, defensive tackle Joe Greene, linebacker Jack Lambert among others, the intensely quiet Harris spent 12 seasons as the engine that helped Pittsburgh’s offense go.
Eight times he topped 1,000 yards rushing in a season, including five times while playing a 14-game schedule. He piled up another 1,556 yards rushing and 16 rushing touchdowns in the playoffs, both second all-time behind Smith.
Despite his gaudy numbers, Harris stressed he was just one cog in an extraordinary machine that redefined greatness.
‘You see, during that era, each player brought their own little piece with them to make that wonderful decade happen,’ Harris said during his Hall of Fame speech in 1990. ‘Each player had their strengths and weaknesses, each their own thinking, each their own method, just each, each had their own. But then it was amazing, it all came together, and it stayed together to forge the greatest team of all times.’
According to comments from his son who gave no cause of death, Franco Harris, the Hall of Fame running back whose quick reaction gave us “The Immaculate Reception,” considered the most iconic play in NFL history, has died. He was 72. Sadly, Harris’ death comes just days before the 50th anniversary of the play that essentially ignited a transformation of the Steelers, taking them from minnows to one of the mightiest teams of the era. In addition, the sad news also comes days before the Steelers are set to retire his No. 32 jersey as well.
During the 1970s, Harris was a key figure in what would become the Steelers dynasty, with his 12,120 yards and of course the four Super Bowl rings that he collected with the team. Yet, without doubt, the most iconic moment of all was during a last second hail mary from then quarterback Terry Bradshaw in a game against Oakland in 1972. With Steelers behind 7-6 and facing fourth-and-10 from their own 40 yard line and 22 seconds on the clock in the fourth quarter, Bradshaw scrambled back before throwing deep to running back French Fuqua. Fuqua took an immediate heavy hit which resulted in the ball popping up and toward the direction of Harris. In that moment almost everyone came to a stop except Harris who snatched the ball out of the air and proceeded to maraud toward the end zone. It was the Steelers’ first playoff win in their entire history and a moment that will go down in NFL history. “That play really represents our teams of the ‘70s,” Harris said after the “Immaculate Reception” was voted the greatest play in NFL history during the league’s 100th anniversary season in 2020.
Born in Fort Dix, New Jersey, on March 7th, 1950, Harris played collegiately at Penn State, before the Steelers who at the time were in the last phases of a rebuild, decided to select him as the 13th overall pick in the 1972 NFL Draft. “When (Noll) drafted Franco Harris, he gave the offense heart, he gave it discipline, he gave it desire, he gave it the ability to win a championship in Pittsburgh,” Steelers Hall of Fame wide receiver Lynn Swann said of his frequent roommate on team road trips. To say Harris had an instant impact would be an understatement. He won the NFL’s Rookie to the Year award in 1972 after rushing for a then-team-rookie record 1,055 yards and 10 touchdowns, while the Steelers reached the postseason for just the second time in franchise history. Interestingly, he was also a hit among the city’s large Italian-American population, being the son of an African-American father and Italian mother. A modest man, Harris always maintained that he was simply part of the machine that was the Steelers.
“You see, during that era, each player brought their own little piece with them to make that wonderful decade happen,” Harris said during his Hall of Fame speech in 1990. “Each player had their strengths and weaknesses, each their own thinking, each their own method, just each, each had their own. But then it was amazing, it all came together, and it stayed together to forge the greatest team of all times.” Harris is survived by his wife Dana Dokmanovich and his son, Dok.
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