Coined the term ‘Immaculate Reception’ after Franco’s iconic catch vs. Raiders
Michael Ord, who coined the phrase “Immaculate Reception” to describe what many consider to be the most famous play in football history, has died.
Mr. Ord, 81, a Point Breeze native and Steelers season ticket holder who had retired to Clayton, N.C., in recent years, succumbed to a series of strokes Dec. 18.
His moment in the spotlight began just hours after Franco Harris’ legendary touchdown during an AFC divisional playoff game Dec. 23, 1972, between the Steelers and then-Oakland Raiders at Three Rivers Stadium.
“When it came to that playoff game with Oakland, there was electricity in the air,” Mr. Ord said in a story in the Post-Gazette in November 2012. “It was like something was palpable. Youknew history was going to be made somehow.”
After “40 years of nothing, nothing, nothing,” as Mr. Ord recalled, the Steelers found their way into a playoff game — the team’s first since 1947.
But things weren’t looking very promising.
It was fourth down and 10 at the Steelers’ 40-yard line Trailing 7-6 with just 22 seconds left, Steelers quarterback Terry Bradshaw fired the ball over the middle to running back John “Frenchy” Fuqua.
The ball bounced off Raiders safety Jack Tatum and ricocheted into the hands of rookie Steelers fullback Harris, who carried it into the end zone for the game-winningtouchdown.
Controversy over the play continues to this day. Some — especially Raiders fans — believe the ball touched Mr. Fuqua first, which, under rules of the day would have been an incomplete pass, or that it hit the ground before Harris caught it.
Mr. Ord and his then-girlfriend Sharon Levosky had tickets on the 50-yard line, though the seats were in the highest level of Three Rivers Stadium— Section 653.
After all of the pandemonium at the game, the couple continued the festivities at the now-shuttered Interlude bar at Court Place off of Ross Street, where Mr. Ord climbed onto a table and rapped his glass with a spoon.
“Growing up Catholic, I remember the Feast of the Immaculate Conception,” Mr. Ord said in an NFL Films documentary marking the 50th anniversary of the play in 2022.
So he announced, “I would like to suggest that from this day on, we refer to this day as the Feast of the Immaculate Reception.”
And, he said, “The place went bonkers.”
Later that night, Ms. Levosky called Myron Cope at WTAE-TV and suggested the nickname “Immaculate Reception,” cementing the phrase as part of Pittsburgh’s identity and lore.
Although the Steelers would go on to lose the AFC championship to the undefeated Miami Dolphins, the “Immaculate Deception,” as it’s known to Raiders nation, is a celebrated part of local and national history. A video of the play is repeated every five minutes at the Senator John Heinz History Center.
Even as a young man, Mr. Ord loved the team, said his sister Deborah Thomas, of Lincolnton, Ga.
“Growing up, Michael was extremely social,” she said. “He was always the ultimate Steelers fan.”
When he attended the famous game, Mr. Ord owned a leather shop in Shadyside. After he sold the business, he spent the rest of his career as an independent marketing consultant.
Mr. Ord had occasion to meet Harris, who sometimes called her brother just to checkin, Ms. Thomas said.
“Franco would call him from time to time,” she said. “He once asked Michael if he ever copyrighted the name, but Michael said, ‘It was your play. It’s your name.’ Michael never made a dime out of it.”
In 1997, Mr. Ord was among the featured attractions at a Steelers’ 25th anniversary bash at the David L. Lawrence Convention Center, but he didn’t linger long. He was anxious to get home to his wife, Patty, who was dying of cancer at the time.
After he moved to North Carolina, a bar owner asked him to attend a Steelers party for locals.
“The bar owner actually set up a special night for Steelers fans to come meet him and there were fans who came from all over,”
his sister said. “There were so many people, the bar was jammed. Michael did autographs and everything.”
Beyond a few token appearances over the years, Mr. Ord rarely discussed his claim to fame.
“He honestly never, ever brought it up,” his sister said. “If someone said something about Franco, he might talk about it.”
During the last weeks of Mr. Ord’s life, the staff at his nursing home kept him up to date on the team’s progress this season.
“He was having difficulty talking at that point because of the last stroke,” his sister said. “He tried to ask if the Steelers game was on and they would tell him about the games.”
In the 2012 PG article, Mr. Ordwaxed sentimental about hisrole as a local legend.
“It’s 40 years, and it’s really been a ride,” he said. “I’m glad it worked out the way it did. I’m glad I’m a footnote in history.”