Mark Madden: Like play that made him famous, Franco Harris was catalyst for all '70s Steelers accomplished

If the Immaculate Reception happened now, with plentiful camera angles and replay review, would Franco Harris’ touchdown stand?

Probably.

The call on the field was a touchdown. None of the video available concludes decisively that it was incorrect. That the ball bounced directly from Frenchy Fuqua to Harris, which was illegal by the rules of the day, or that Harris trapped the ball.

That’s the key phrase: “concludes decisively.”

Why should we guess that additional video would prove different? (Then again, more angles and different speeds enable finding just about any result you want.)

It’s a touchdown then and a touchdown today.

The Oakland Raiders got mad then, the Las Vegas Raiders would be mad now.

That’s part of the fun. The late, great John Madden, Oakland’s coach then, took bitterness over that call to his grave.

We’ve all seen the Harris mannequin at the Pittsburgh airport. It looks like a legal play from that vantage point. George Washington and Nellie Bly likely agree.

The 50th anniversary of the Immaculate Reception provokes intriguing thought, not least being: Who the heck is going to venture to Acrisure Stadium in sub-zero temperatures on Christmas Eve to watch two 6-8 teams play a meaningless game by way of recognizing that anniversary and retiring Harris’ No. 32?

The informal over/under is 45,000 in the stands.

The Immaculate Reception’s significance is hard to define.

Harris’ death just days before he was to be honored puts added punctuation on the Immaculate Reception. Like the play that made him famous, Harris was a catalyst for everything the Pittsburgh Steelers accomplished in the ’70s. He was among the dynasty’s least replaceable players, ranking with Joe Greene and Terry Bradshaw.

Current Steelers coach Mike Tomlin called the Immaculate Reception “the most significant play in the history of the game.” That’s ludicrous. It’s not even close to being that. You could argue it’s not even the Steelers’ most significant play ever.

But it has lots of romance because of the moniker. The Steelers didn’t win a Super Bowl that season and, in fact, lost their next two playoff games.

But, because the Steelers won four Super Bowls in the ’70s, the Immaculate Reception seems an ignition point. But the Steelers surely would have won those Super Bowls had the Immaculate Reception not occurred.

The Immaculate Reception marked the first time the Steelers won a playoff game. Heck, it was the Steelers’ first playoff touchdown. That season was the first time they won 10 games or more, the second time they won their division and the first time they finished above .500 since 1963.

The Immaculate Reception was an emergence on top of being an ignition. The Immaculate Reception was the moment the Steelers and pro football became king in Pittsburgh. The Pirates and baseball had ruled till then.

It was also the first of two cataclysmic events that took place just eight days apart. Roberto Clemente’s plane crashed on New Year’s Eve, killing the Pirates superstar. (The Steelers had lost the AFC Championship Game to undefeated Miami earlier that day.)

Despite the legendary status the Immaculate Reception holds in Pittsburgh, it pales next to the significance of Bill Mazeroski’s walk-off home run to beat the New York Yankees in Game 7 of the 1960 World Series in what might be MLB’s biggest upset ever.

Mazeroski’s homer is the biggest moment in Pittsburgh sports history. Even bigger than Johnny Cueto dropping the ball.

The Immaculate Reception might benefit from an odd degree of recency bias. Those who remember Mazeroski’s blow are dying out. I wasn’t even born yet.