Ultimate vote of confidence

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DENVER – The Jaw wore a long-awaited smile, and as much as it came because the AFC championship was at last won again, it was about more than a conference title, too.

That grin on Bill Cowher's often-intimidating, always-revealing jaw was about the triumph of loyalty and trust in a cutthroat business that long ago figured both qualities were quaint words from a bygone day. It was about the last of the dinosaurs delivering another chance to win it all for his boss, the last of the dinosaurs himself.

The Pittsburgh Steelers – Bill Cowher's Pittsburgh Steelers – had just dusted the Denver Broncos on Sunday, but deep in that grin was the thought that the NFL's ultimate throwback couple could enjoy it together.

"Look at ownership," Cowher said after advancing to Super Bowl XL. "Mr. Rooney is a football guy."

Mr. Dan Rooney, second generation owner of the Steelers, is indeed a football guy. He is also a loyalty guy, a stay-the-course guy and a hands-off, do-the-right-thing guy.

And in the NFL these days, that makes him an anomaly.

Dan Rooney decided that Bill Cowher was the best possible coach for the Steelers back in January of 1992, and nothing since has changed Rooney's mind. Not success. Not failure. Not playoffs squandered. Not playoffs missed. And certainly not talk shows, newspaper columns or message boards that so often drive decisions in today's high-stakes, low-patience NFL.

Cowher was just 34 then, but Rooney believed the energetic Pittsburgh native was the perfect successor to Chuck Noll, who had just retired after 23 long, loyal years working for Dan and his father, Art Rooney Sr.

Noll was a legend then, having won four Super Bowls, but most telling may have been the Rooney family's decision to stick by him after the Steelers went 1-13 in his first season.

The Cowher move paid immediate dividends, of course. The Steelers reached the playoffs in each of his first six seasons, including Super Bowl XXX, where they fell to Dallas.

But then the cyclical nature of the NFL hit. There were two losing seasons and another with no postseason at all. Fans grumbled. Talk shows lit up. In Steelers-obsessed Pittsburgh, the reaction was natural: After nine years of Cowher – already an impressively long tenure by NFL standards – perhaps a change in direction was needed.

Cowher didn't think so, though. He didn't dream of greener pastures or fresh starts. He didn't jump ship, and Dan Rooney didn't, either. His coach could still coach, he believed.

One side offered loyalty and the other offered it back. There was nothing else to discuss.

The Steelers have now reached four of the last five playoffs, and here in Cowher's 14th season, he is not only the longest tenured coach in the NFL (and ninth longest all-time) but Pittsburgh is also back in the Super Bowl.

The success is not the surprise. Considering there have been 93 coaches hired across the league since Cowher took over, the shock is the opportunity he has been given.

"(Mr. Rooney) was very supportive through three non-playoff years, and I'm very appreciative of that," Cowher said. "(I) will always understand that and appreciate that patience."

That's the Rooneys, though. This is the old-school, behind-the-curtain style of owner. The Steelers are not just family owned, but they are also run with the kind of family values you'd expect from blue-collar western Pennsylvania.

Dan Rooney, 73, proudly held up the AFC championship trophy Sunday, but he had little to say to the media, whom he rarely courts. He wanted the spotlight on his players and coaches, as always.

This is a family who does not include bios or pictures of themselves in the annual media guide. In 2003, when Dan decided that his son, Art II, would succeed him as team president (and eventually owner), there was no press release and no fanfare. They just switched the titles in the small print of the media guide. It was the same way Art Sr. announced Dan would eventually succeed him back in 1975.

This isn't exactly the way the Jerry Jones era of the NFL operates. And no one knows this or appreciates it more than the Steelers.

Cowher's time in Pittsburgh has been mostly successful – 141-82-1. But the playoffs have been a different story. Cowher owned an 8-9 record coming into this postseason, including 1-4 in AFC title games. There were crushing heartbreakers and stunning upsets.

All of it had cast a doubt about Cowher's ability in big games, when he tended to get conservative. In other towns, with other teams, he would have been replaced in the search for someone to take the club to "the next level."

But not here. Not ever.

"He's been criticized for not being able to win the big one, not being able to get back to the Super Bowl," running back Jerome Bettis said of Cowher. "We wanted to come out and play for him. He's been our leader; he's been supportive of us when we failed."

And so the Steelers' legendary loyalty drifted down another rung, from owner to coach to the players themselves. On Sunday, there was Cowher, pushing the AFC championship trophy back up to the man who sets the core values of this most rare of franchises.

"There's nothing greater and nothing drives me more than to hopefully be able to hand (Rooney) the (Vince Lombardi) trophy," Cowher said. "Nothing would make me more satisfied than to be able to do that."

Mr. Rooney will probably hand it right back.