Valentine for a super Steeler: Fiancee recalls short season with Steve Furness

There had been the roar of the crowd, adulation of Steelers' football fans and four Super Bowl Rings to prove it was all real.

There were days of soirees with coach Chuck Noll and owner Art Rooney, picnics with Rocky Bleier and Terry Bradshaw that turned into "boys-will-be-boys" horseplay. The cheers of recognition, routinely following a football hero, were simply background music.

In the end, it's the love that Peg Bombich remembers. Speaking from her Bethel Park home, she says the last thing she sought was the limelight illuminating the life of a Steeler. It was the man she fell in love with – fame just went along with the game.

And, the Steve Furness she knew was all about love. At an early meeting, Furness surprisingly announced, "I'm going to marry you someday."

"Boy, that's a new line," Bombich tartly returned. But his later commitment to her turned that prediction into a promise.

She fully returned his lifetime kind of love by the time he came back from a trip on Feb. 9, 2000, twirled her around, and exclaimed, "You don't know how much I love coming home to you."

Sinking into the nearest chair, he took her on his lap. Then, his head suddenly fell back. Steve Furness, a tackle on the Steel Curtain's invincible defensive line of the '70s, had succumbed to a heart attack at 49.

Bombich said she never felt more alone than in following days when fans joined players, coaches and government dignitaries in paying tribute to the player who gained NFL celebrity as one of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

She had known him rather as a guy who read avidly and treasured time at home, where he liked to leave endearing Post-it notes, reminding her, "I'm not far away."

When asked what Furness might do on a typical day, Bombich's unhesitating answer is surprising, "Steve was a gourmet cook, who enjoyed nothing more than preparing romantic dinners – flowers, candles, music – the works.

"I admit, when I cooked, I was happy to finish, do dishes, and put my feet up," she continued. "But, Steve, made dinner a romantic ritual that brought us both great pleasure."

It's not quite the way the world remembers a guy noted for giving tough head-butts, and meeting opponents helmet-to-helmet like a battering ram.

Bombich, however, saw him more as a gentle bear. "In fact, that was my nickname for him, ‘Big Bear.'"

She isn't the first to recognize Furness' humanistic qualities. The man-of-steel, known for playing all-out on the field, was also a community activist who exerted himself for charities like the Mel Blount Youth Home. He idolized his two sons, Zaban and Zach, from a previous marriage; was friend and role model to Bombich's three boys from her former union. As a Michigan State defensive line coach in the '80s, Furness' devotion to players went beyond duty to caring. It was well-known that they responded with uncommon devotion to "Coach."

Going even further back, Furness probably never represented the public's perception of a "jock." He was an academic who went back to Michigan State in '87 to earn a master's degree in athletic administration. During his undergraduate days at the University of Rhode Island, he considered a career in dentistry.

And, his athletic talent gets a different spin when you understand he was headed for U.S. Olympic trials as a hammer-thrower, before the Steelers redirected his destiny.

Perhaps, these qualities, identifying a renaissance man, suggest why Bombich finds time has not lessened her sense of loss in life without Furness.

"I'm not afraid of being alone," she asserts. "I was divorced for 30 years, and never knew loneliness like this. But, then, I never knew love like this."

"My life with Steve was like a six-year honeymoon. So, how can I forget?"

Prior to Furness' untimely death, a summer date had been set for their wedding. Furness, who had presented Bombich with a ring for each year of their courtship, anticipated the big day of Aug. 4, 2000, with considerable enthusiasm.

Bombich clarifies that the "honeymoon" of their engagement wasn't an isolated one. Furness had plenty of love to go around to friends and family. A typical visit from Furness might find him arriving on a friend's doorstep with a big bouquet of freshly picked flowers. Even if a stranger asked to see his Super Bowl ring, Furness liked to drop it into the fan's hand as a gesture of trust, Bombich remembered.

Bombich's daughter-in-law, Joan Battistone Bombich, a South Fayette native, now of Florida, recalls the relationship from a family point-of-view. "Although Peg has always been very kind and caring, Steve really brought sunshine into her life, tapping into a special, lighthearted part of her personality no one else reached as well."

Bombich, in turn, feels her own enthusiasm for family life helped Furness return to his roots. "With all the traveling, he hadn't been back for a holiday at his Rhode Island home in years," she recalled. "So, on what turned out to be the last Thanksgiving of his life, we visited his mother. You can't imagine the joy it brought," she said, smiling. "His mother invited relatives who hadn't seen him for ages – aunts, uncles, cousins. And, it was as emotional for Steve as it was for them."

Bombich has nothing but praise for Furness' mother, Elsie Colburn. "She was always a rock to her boys. We're still in constant touch. Every Thursday, come rain or shine, we phone each other. And, I spent this Thanksgiving with her once again."

Colburn returns Bombich's affection. "We all love Peggy. Nothing better could have happened to Stephen. It's just too bad they couldn't have had a life together."

Speaking of Bombich's annual visit, Colburn noted, "I look forward to it all year."

Reciprocally, Bombich's own family, down to the smallest grandchild, harbors fondness for Furness.

Her young grandson, Tanner, returned from school one day to report he had been asking his teacher about heaven.

"Grandma," he asked, "why didn't God take you to heaven to be with Steve?"

"If that happened, I couldn't see you," she reasoned.

"Yes, but, at least you'd be happy," the little boy observed, enlightening Bombich that the smile she'd pasted on since Furness' death hadn't even fooled a 7-year-old.

His older brother, Austin, made Furness the hero of a "book" he was assigned to write for school, creating a poignant family memento.

There are stories of Furness and "the kids" that bring laughs as well as tears.

"Steve always encouraged me to exercise," Peg reports, "but I wasn't as diligent as he would have liked."

So, she and grandson Zachary, then 4, found a way to "trick" her exercise bike – and Furness, in the bargain. For $1, Zach would turn pedals with his hands, and miles were recorded.

One day, Furness came home at an inopportune moment, to find Zach proposing, "Hey, why don't I go and ‘ride' the bike now, so I can get a dollar?"

The romance that seemed perfect by the time of Furness' death didn't have a predictable beginning. Both had previously been married, with families.

Both had their own lives. Bombich, a native Pittsburgher, was a busy Kaufmann's executive. Furness, now retired from the Steelers as player and defensive line coach, as well as college coaching, had successfully launched a career selling Field Turf for sports stadiums.

Bombich faced her own challenges at this time. She had received a blow to the head on the job when a metal stockroom rod toppled on her in '92. The injury, which she hoped would be limited, caused endless aftereffects – headaches, nausea, sleeping for days at a time.

Although, she originally "toughed it out," eventually she had to admit her overwhelming suffering and check into Harmarville Rehabilitation Center for eight weeks training in pain management. "Tools like relaxation techniques, biofeedback, hypnotism helped immensely," Bombich said.

She struggled to continue working part time, but her health was severely compromised by her hypersomnia. Furness provided strong support during this difficult period.

"He went to each of repetitive doctors' appointments with me," she recalled. "When I'd have an extended sleeping spell, he'd watch over me and awaken me to be sure I drank water to keep hydrated."

"Steve was a special guy who was very understanding of her health problems," said Joan Bombich.

After a brave attempt to continue her retail career of 31 years, Bombich recently had to accept the label "disabled" and retire.

She spends her time traveling and at-home, often occupied with family and friends; continuing Furness' bent for charity events. But "occupied" isn't the same as "fulfilled."

She's trying to come to terms with a life less meaningful than that shared with Furness, remembering she can still be productive; relate to a circle of friends; make a difference in the community.

The tough question of "why" will always be with her. But, she tries to accept the hand of fate, knowing heart problems were genetic in the Furness family. Furness' father had a heart attack at 37, his mother at 58. Although years apart, their coronaries were suffered Feb. 9, the same day as their son's, for an eerie coincidence.

And, nothing could have been done differently. "Steve was devoted to health – cooking nutritious meals, exercising regularly," Bombich observed.

"His mother and I find comfort, knowing he had constant medical checkups throughout his athletic career, which provided no warnings of coronary concerns. Unfortunately, I guess, it was just his time."

Colburn concurred, "His death was a horrible shock, especially since he was so young and took such good care of himself."

Bombich's own grieving is mitigated by memories of Furness all around her. "Even his family feels his presence most strongly here at home," she said.

Bombich said she finds solace in the beauty of their years together. "Everything about Steve was larger-than-life: his size, his spirit, his devotion. So, I know I had love that might have been spread throughout a marriage, condensed into six years.

"Of course, I wish Steve and I could have gone on together, but what we had has to be enough. And, actually, it's more than enough. It's the love of a lifetime."

Carole Takach is a Pittsburgh freelance writer for the Tribune-Review.