Last month, the Arizona Cardinals used their pregame to honor Pat Tillman, the former safety who, 18 months ago, was killed by friendly fire while serving in the U.S. Army in Iraq. No matter how you feel about the war or the seemingly ceaseless Tillman tributes, it is still somewhat remarkable that a young man who seemingly had it all—realizing the boyhood dreams of thousands of American boys by becoming a successful professional athlete—gave it up and (I hate how trite this phrase is) “made the ultimate sacrifice” for his country. For many Americans who don’t know any soldiers currently involved in the conflict, Tillman acts as a surrogate, a representation of the sacrifices being made by thousands of young men. And as an NFL player with a promising career, his sacrifice is all the more punctuated and emphasized.

But imagine for a moment that Tillman hadn’t volunteered for his assignment, but had been conscripted. And imagine he wasn’t alone.

It’s tough to imagine an NFL player getting drafted today—the league can’t even get players to honor their contracts—but during the Vietnam War, a handful of active players were called to active duty. One—Bob Kalsu of the Buffalo Bills—was killed in action, while the rest were lucky enough to walk away wounded.

Steeler RB Rocky Bleier was one of the lucky, and his story—from promising rookie to wounded veteran to major contributor on the greatest NFL teams of all-time—is the subject of “Fighting Back,” a film recently shown by ESPN’s “Reel Classics Extra,” and this, the first installment of “Flicksburgh.”

It doesn't really require any explanation because he's become such a go-to stand-in for personified ruggedness, but Burt Reynolds hosts "Reel Classics." Presumably, it’s because he starred in "The Longest Yard." Or maybe it's that he played college football before becoming the Bandit. But no matter. What REALLY requires explanation is the location Burt's hosting from: the "Burt Reynolds Museum" in Jupiter, FL. From the looks of it—a wood-paneled barroom covered wall-to-wall with Burt-related paraphernalia—it's more like a Burt-themed Applebee's, or at least his VERY finished basement. I was so blown away by the facility's existence that I spent the first five minutes of the movie trying to capture my reaction on paper. Unfortunately, my notebook just has the word "AWESOME" scrawled over a big doodle of a car jumping over a mushroom cloud, and I remember none of the time it took me to render. Needless to say, I was a little distracted from the opening credits.

The only thing that remains unexplained from "The Lost Five Minutes of Burt" is what Robert Urich—portraying Rocky Bleier in a pretty solid lookalike performance—is doing in this locker room scene. Having just finished up a practice (presumably during the Steelers' glory years, in a sort of flash-forward beyond most of the movie's plot), Rocky emerges from his locker with his hair fashioned into a Mohawk and struts around the locker room, doing a dead-on impersonation of a rooster with a porn mustache. The moment is completely unexplained, is never revisited, and is very, very weird.

ANYWAY, "Fighting Back" darts from the Rooster scene to Bleier's rookie training camp, where he was an undersized last-round pick from Notre Dame. Despite the fact that the training camp scenes don't indicate it at all, the film makes a point of making Rocky into the quintessential sports movie undersized underdog. What's funny about it is that instead of showing it, the coaches straight-out tell it. Every time an assistant coach says, "He's small" or "I'm not seeing much" or "He sucks," Richard Herd—playing Chuck Noll with at least 65% too much hair—counters with "He plays like an Irishman" or "He's tough like he's Irish" or "Are you sure he's not Irish?" No one points out to Noll that Bleier is probably German, but that he coincidentally went to Notre Dame. Consequently, I found this sequence hilarious.

Seemingly moments after Bleier has impressed the Steeler coaching staff with his Emerald Isle toughness, Rocky is drafted by the US Army. Despite the team’s efforts to get him assigned to a National Guard unit (a rare cinematic tip-o’-the-truth to how professional athletes are generally treated), Rocky is called to active duty in Vietnam.

While there, Bleier immediately forms a rapport with his fellow soldiers, who seem to appreciate him more for his Midwestern sensibilities than for the fact that he’s a Pittsburgh Steeler. Never is this more apparent than while he and a fellow soldier sit around a small fire heating a beverage:

Soldier: You drinkin’ some of the good stuff, Rock?

Rocky: No, it’s cocoa. My mom sent it to me. I really like cocoa.

Soldier: Cocoa?

Rocky: I really like cocoa.

Soldier: Cocoa?

Rocky: I really like cocoa.

It’s around this time that mortar begins to fall all around, and Rocky and his friend must retreat to their trench (apparently, Rocky Bleier fought in the trench warfare of World War I AND in Vietnam). But—gasp!—Rocky has left his cocoa behind! He runs out of the trench and back, and we learn one of the film’s most important themes:

"I really like cocoa."

But it was a non-cocoa related incident that defined Bleier’s tour of duty. On August 20, 1969, Rocky’s unit was caught in an ambush in a rice paddy near Chu Lai. Surrounded by VC, Bleier took a bullet to the leg.

“I thought someone had thrown a rock to get my attention,” Bleier would say of the wound. “But it kept hurting, and I knew that I’d been hit.

Rather than writhe in pain, Bleier used his grenade launcher to save a group of his compatriots, lobbing several shots before knocking out (I’m guessing by the scream sfx) at least 3 VC. By the way Bleier lobs these things, you get the feeling he would have made a great punter, or at least one of those “Cannonball Crew” kids at Pirates games that can’t get the hot dog gun past row thirteen.

Anyway, just when they thought they’d escaped, a grenade was thrown into the American foxhole. Bleier’s foot is blown in half, and a doctor tells him he’ll probably never walk again. The End, right? WRONG.

Obviously, this is the part of the film where Rocky starts “Fighting Back.” But here’s the problem: Because this was a TV movie that aired on ABC in 1980 and not a big screen blockbuster, most of this (and all of the physical parts of the film) sort of fall flat. I mean, this is an INCREDIBLE story: Underdog barely has a chance, GETS HIS FOOT BLOWN OFF, and still finds the will to compete at the highest level. It’s like “Rudy,” only with less whining, real adversity, and tons more violin-heavy blaxploitation-style music. But because it’s on a shitty “Movie of the Week” budget, it misses so much.

Nowhere is this money problem more apparent than in the football cast. Aside from Urich as Bleier, only two Steelers players are depicted: Bubba Smith as “Generic---but Fierce—Defensive Lineman,” and former NFL cornerback Steve Tannen as backup QB Terry Hanratty.

Now look: I realize that Hanratty and Bleier were teammates at Notre Dame (and the foot massage scene and this sauna clip make it clear that they were MORE than just teammates), and I think it’s great when former athletes are used to depict current ones, but this whole thing just sucks. Tannen can’t throw at all, and they only refer to Steelers stars when they’ve got the camera on Noll or Art Rooney. It’s a total tease. And instead of making me think about Bleier’s great comeback, it made me wonder whether or not everyone else on the team thought he was a total loser.

They totally saved this with the game scenes, though. Instead of recording cheesy reenactments of recent Steeler plays, they just showed game film. The movie automatically gave me lumps in my throat during these moments, because—even for someone who wasn’t alive—watching the 70s Steelers automatically makes you misty. It was almost like cheating.

Of course, the movie couldn’t just stop with football. You gotta cater to the ladies' emotions, too, so Rocky gets involved with Aleta (played by Holly McClane from “Die Hard”), a Pittsburgh woman who loves art and doesn’t know a thing about football. As if that wasn’t enough to make her unbelievable (and enough to make every other woman in Pittsburgh hate her because she’s dating a Steeler), she indicates that if Rocky got traded, she wouldn’t want to move away from Pittsburgh.

Let’s review: Woman hates football. Loves art. Threatens to refuse to leave Pittsburgh.

But this isn’t the part that’s most unbelievable: On top of all of this, she decides it’s better if SHE DOESN’T GO TO THE SUPER BOWL. At this point, I stopped having any faith in the validity of this film; I wasn’t even sure that Rocky Bleier had ever existed, despite having video, audio and oral historical proof to the contrary. It had me questioning everything: If you meet a woman in Pittsburgh, will she not know the name of the Steeler runnningback? What is a woman? Is there even a Pittsburgh? (While I was lost in my sea of rhetorical questions, every real woman in Pittsburgh was brandishing a chainsaw to go after this chick. No wonder they don’t list the character’s last name in the credits. Yippee-kai-aye, indeed.)

Of course, you know what happens: She shows up at the Super Bowl, the Steelers win, and Art Rooney takes time out in the locker room to single out Rocky for being like the Steelers—formerly crappy and with uninjured feet, but now Super Bowl champs with shrapnel in their legs. This being 1980, they don’t get into the whole “had to sell his rings” bit, but they do showcase Rocky and his popdukes in these fantastic jackets. Rocky’s happy, Burt Reynolds is happy, I’m happy. Only Terry Hanratty—who never got to massage Rocky’s mangled toes again—remains unfulfilled. The End.

----Greg

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