I couldn't care less about football. Unless, of course, the Steelers are playing. Largely, this is because my dad is from Latrobe, Pennsylvania, home of Rolling Rock beer, the first banana split, the first professional football game and the Pittsburgh Steelers training camp.
The people of Latrobe are rabid Steelers fans and the Rodgers clan is chief among them: I was scarred—well, if not for life, then for at least six months—when I was left to watch a game with my grandmother who would spend the entire time counting her rosaries at the top of her lungs and bellowing curses at the opposing team that made the God of the Old Testament sound like Dr. Phil.
Still, that didn't spook me off the Steelers: After all, I shook "Mean" Joe Greene's hand when I was but a wee lass of 7 years old.
Las Vegas, being a transient city, has a sports bar catering to nearly every team, with designated spots for those who root for the Bears, Broncos or Bills. But few teams seem to have as many out-of-town cheering sections as the Steelers, with more than a half-dozen bars geared toward their fans. And Play of the Day is the finest of them all, draped in "Home of the Steelers" banners, with window paintings of helmets, pennants, photos and other memorabilia representing the heroes of Iron City throughout.
Unlike most of its kind, Play of the Day is not just a place to scream yourself hoarse during the fourth, but also a spot to have a cold beer and tasty cheeseburger on a weekday afternoon—although it may come with a side of "Didja see the game last weekend?" Despite its perpetual décor and occasional decibel level, it's a regulars' bar as much as it is a sports bar.
Sunday afternoons and Monday nights are mayhem, with every seat filled and the walls lined with people waving Terrible Towels (the yellow terrycloth flags borne by the faithful) and howling like rabid wolves every time Jerome "Bus" Bettis nears the end zone. The whole Iron Curtain defense of the 1970s is represented in throwback jersey form: Jack Ham, Jack Lambert, Mel Blount, Dwight White, and of course, the mighty "Mean" Joe Greene, along with Franco Harris of the "immaculate reception" and Terry Bradshaw of ... well, acting dumb in commercials. Blond bartenders in—you guessed it—team tees pour the kinds of shots that make even a professional drinker shudder. They are not only heavy- handed but light-footed, serving libations with lightning speed, even during the halftime crunch. While Play of the Day doesn't carry Rolling Rock among the dozen-plus tap and bottle options, rumor has it they sometimes fly in cases of Iron City Lager for special occasions. Their menu is also Steeler-fied, from a version of Pittsburgh's famous Primanti Brothers sandwich—yeah, French fries and coleslaw on your sandwich sounds gross but it's gooood—to the appetizer platter with onion rings hanging from a tiny goalpost.
Still, it's more the silences than the noise that prove the strength of the fandom at Play of the Day. During commercial breaks, you realize everyone here has a Steelers story. There's the one about the guy whose wife flew him to Pittsburgh on his birthday just to shop at the Steelers company store. Or the one about the nice, old man who bestowed a Terrible Towel on a young lad at a Buffalo-Pittsburgh game back during the disco era only if the boy promised that he would be a Steelers fan for life, and the man has remained a loyal Iron City advocate ever since. I've shared the tale of my handshake from my favorite Hall-of-Famer, but the one about Baba going nuts I've kept to myself. Gotta hold something back for the playoffs.
Play of the Day, 1590 E. Flamingo Road. 785-0388. 24/7.
Lissa Townsend Rodgers learned to make a martini at age 6. E-mail her at
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