PHIL VILLAPIANO WALKS through the Pittsburgh airport. It is late Wednesday evening, three days before Christmas. Even at 73, he still looks like a linebacker -- sturdy chest, stout shoulders, steel chin. His hair is white, but his eyes dance the way they have for decades.
Villapiano should hate Pittsburgh. He was an Oakland Raider in the 1970s, which means Pittsburgh or the Steelers or really anything with black and gold ought to make his blood run hot. The Raiders and Steelers despise each other. Everyone knows this.
But Villapiano is different. It doesn't matter that he was in the middle of the play that birthed all the animosity.