I used to tell students not to do research on Wikipedia — no longer! The crowdsourced encyclopedia, which has editing policies as robust as Pittsburgh City Paper, is chock full of useful tidbits. Personally, I’ve found it invaluable as a research tool for creative writing and a great way to bank useless tidbits for pub trivia (full disclosure: I donate $3.75 a month to the Wikimedia Foundation). It’s also a less egregious waste of time than social media.
Wikipedia is also the perfect way to get up to speed on topics ranging from history to sports. If you’re a new Pittsburgher or someone who says “sportsball,” you might be familiar with the iconic Terrible Towel but not know this legendary piece of terrycloth’s storied history. Do yourself a favor: before that next family gathering, read the Terrible Towel’s Wikipedia page.
If that’s as far as you got in this article, fine! For those still reading, the Terrible Towel Wikipedia page does what any good Wikipedia page should do: it’s informative, well-organized, and cites sources.
It’s also, objectively, hysterical. Since its creation by Wikipedia user Addaone while “half-asleep” in 2005, dozens of users ranging from NoseNuggets to ItTollsForThee have amended and fine-tuned the article to include anecdotes from all over the globe. Within the first paragraph, we learn that our hometahn tahl has been to both Mt. Everest and outer space. Its lengthiest section relishes in the ways, small and large, the Towel has led to misfortune for any fool who dared mock it (more on that later.)
The article does a damn good job of breaking down precisely why Steelers commentating legend Myron Cope’s simple “gimmick” has become such an enduring and often hilarious piece of Pittsburgh lore. To wit:
The Towel that almost wasn’t: The Steelers were apparently bearish about the towel at first. Linebacker Jack Ham told Cope, “I think your idea stinks.” Undeterred, Cope basically lied about player opinion to Steelers brass, and the team went ahead with the Terrible Towel giveaway. A victory that day over the Baltimore Colts sealed in the Towel’s good luck, and the Steelers went on to win the Super Bowl. The rest is history.
The Towel’s Curse: Steeler opponents who besmirch the Towel have faced terrible retribution on the gridiron. Divisional rivals and playoff opponents alike have tempted fate by abusing the Towel — and seen their hopes of victory vanish in an instant.
Opponents have wiped their asses and armpits on the Towel (Jacksonville), stomped on it (Cleveland, Baltimore, and Tennessee), used it as a doormat (Cincinnati), blown their noses into it (Arizona), and torn it up (Detroit) only to get absolutely stomped by the black and gold. Imitators such as Indiana failed to recapture the Towel’s magic and were likewise laid low by the Steelers. Even hockey teams have gambled with ridiculing the Towel and lost. As Cope said in his book Double Yoi (again, per Wikipedia): “I did not see the Terrible Towel as witchcraft to hex the enemy. It would be a positive force, driving the Steelers to superhuman performance, but if it experienced a yen for mischief and created fatal mistakes by opponents, I would tolerate that.”
The Towel’s anything-but-terrible fundraising: In an act of supreme neighborliness, Cope donated the Terrible Towel’s trademark to the Allegheny Valley School, an institution supporting people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, in 1996. The school has since raised millions for people using its services through sales of the Towel and other merch (of which there’s a ton). Terrible? In this case, terrific.
The Towel has broken containment: While it’s still very much a sports item, the Terrible Towel has also become a sort of yinzer birthright, appearing in everything from yinzer vacation photos to poetic odes to local poetry. Pretty much every Pittsburgh or Pittsburgh expat household has one stashed somewhere (I myself have a dedicated drawer with three of them). It’s even become a literal birthright for babies in the region, some of whom start this life swaddled in one.
International icon: The Terrible Towel has become such a talisman of Steeler success that it’s since appeared everywhere from the Great Wall of China to the International Space Station. It’s also been carried into war, given to national and international leaders, and made numerous TV appearances outside of the NFL season. There’s probably no more immediately recognizable symbol of Pittsburgh.
Regardless of whether you’re reminiscing or learning about the Terrible Towel for the first time, its Wikipedia page makes a simultaneous case for the Towel’s, and Wikipedia’s, greatness. It may not have been the first-ever rally towel, but it’s for sure the most iconic. If you live in Pittsburgh long enough, you’ll eventually end up with at least one.
And when it comes to gameday, remember: it’s all in the wrist.
This article appears in Nov 27 – Dec 3, 2024.
