In American sports, particularly pro football, there are symbols that represent us. They represent our teams, our cities and the people that live there, were raised there, will die there. These symbols inspire us for years, a single game or sometimes just for a frozen moment. In some cases, they transcend time. Sometimes, the symbol that comes along is embraced to such an extent, it becomes a fabric of everyday life, so recognizable it supersedes its initial purpose, evolves into something more, something that can't be quantified. Sometimes these symbols develop organically, growing within the culture of the fans and eventually breaking into the periphery of the entire sports landscape, to be witnessed and even embraced by all.
Of course, it always starts with an idea, a simple thought that grows into action and substance. Sometimes it's complex, but often enough it's simple. That's where this story begins, on a simple day in 1975.
It's two weeks before the start of the 1975 playoffs. The Pittsburgh Steelers just put the finishing touches on a 10-3-1 regular season and were preparing for a first-round playoff match-up with the 10-4 Baltimore Colts. The management team of WTAE, the Steelers flagship radio station, decided they need a "gimmick" to promote their station, but also help inspire the Pittsburgh fan base in the upcoming playoffs. Initially perplexed to find an idea, vice president and general manager Ted J. Atkins and president of sales Larry Garrett approached radio personality Myron Cope with the the conundrum.
Cope, who had joined the broadcast team five years earlier, had quickly become the voice of the Steelers. Beloved by fans for his distinctive nasally twang, heavy Pittsburgh accent and capricious catch phrases, most notably "Yoi," "Double Yoi" and "Okle Dokle," his radio commentary embodied the spirit of Pittsburgh. Cope had the attention of the Steelers fans and a good indication of what they appreciated. To Atkins and Garrett, it only made sense to ask for his assistance.
Upon first request for help with the "gimmick," Cope refused. He recounts in his book, Double Yoi, he said, "I am not a gimmick guy, never have been a gimmick guy." Cope also thought the Steelers fans -- a group of hard-nosed, no-nonsense, blue-collar workers, much like the team they supported -- would be a bit put-off by a gimmick. But, upon further prodding and debate, including the explanation that this "gimmick" would be a good advantage in his upcoming contract renewal, Cope changed his answer. "I'm a gimmick guy."
