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STEELER PRIDE IN LAS VEGAS
The desert town of Las Vegas, Nevada has
been dubbed by some as The City of Lights, even though
that moniker was placed on the city of Paris (France,
not Texas) many, many neon’s ago. Nonetheless,
those lights beckon a large number of tourists every
year. They come for the glitz. They come for the glamour.
They come seeking their fortunes. They do not come for
the local sports.
I’ve placed my own moniker on Las Vegas: The City of No Alliance.
In a town void of professional sports franchises, Vegas is the place
where traditional loyalties come to die. Locals are made up of an
amalgam of transplants from other parts of the country, each having
long ago pledged his support to the city of his youth, and in the
absence of any local temptation to defect, those old loyalties either
continue for want of any other, or they wither and deteriorate. Tourists
blow through the town (and their savings) with their own loyalties,
but are much more susceptible to temptation, as many can be seen
rooting harder than they ever have for whatever team may make them
the most money, selling their souls for the almighty dollar. What
happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. And as far as the House is concerned,
well, loyalties cannot take root in shifting desert sands. The harsh
Las Vegas climate makes it nearly impossible for loyalty to survive.
And yet, if you look closely, you will find pockets of unified supporters
that have learned to adapt, even thrive in this climate. J.C. Wooloughan’s
Irish Pub, located in the J.W. Marriott Resort Las Vegas, happens
to be one of those pockets.
Upon first glance, J.C. Wooloughan’s looks like your traditional
Irish pub, Old World ambiance, free-flowing Guinness (not to suggest
that the Guinness is actually free), and the best of Emerald Isle
culinary delights. What cannot be seen upon first glance; however,
is the establishment’s growing underworld, which uses the public
house as its gathering hole, virtually every Sunday, from September
through January. I’m not talking about a church fish fry; though
to say that religion is involved would not be a stretch. You see,
every Sunday during the NFL season J.C. Wooloughan’s undergoes
a magical metamorphosis. . . . and becomes a Steelers Bar, trading
in its green pastures and rocky-cliffs-by-the-sea atmosphere for
the muddy fresh waters of the Monongahela River. It is here that
the Terrible Towel Club of Las Vegas, Nevada gathers in support of
its beloved team, the Pittsburgh Steelers, defying the house odds
by establishing, in a climate ill suited to the purpose, a powerful
and unbreakable alliance. The Steel City comes to The City of Lights.
How is it that a traditional Irish pub decided to turn blue collar?
Apparently that’s what you get when you hire a former Pittsburgh
denizen to be the pub’s manager. To make a long story short,
Declan McGettigan emigrated from Ireland and was fortunate enough
to eventually land in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where he quickly
established himself as a food and beverage guru minced with many
a catered tailgate party at Three Rivers Stadium. He jumped at
the chance to establish an Irish pub in Las Vegas, and his hard
work and business savvy enabled him to make J.C. Wooloughan’s
a success. However, it was his love of Pittsburgh that made it
even better. McGettigan combined a marketing effort to augment
weekend business with his adopted American hometown and came up
with the Terrible Towel Club, a brain-child that allowed him to
transform the establishment from an Irish Pub to a Steelers Bar
on Sundays (and the occasional Monday night) during the NFL season.
In doing so, McGettigan has created, much to the delight of over
400 current members, a little piece of home in the desert. Go Steelers.
McGettigan has since graduated to become the Food and Beverage
Director for the entire resort, but has found it difficult to loosen
his grip on the reins of his beloved pub. Strangely enough, he
makes it a habit to pay a visit to the pub every Sunday during
the season if not only too to sample a few much-appreciated Pierogies
or Kielbasa, in-keeping with Pittsburgh traditions
The idea has gained momentum over the years, as various amenities
(food staples, contests, prizes, and memorabilia) have been added.
But it was the creation of a one page weekly newsletter that has
seemingly captured the most attention. At inception, the newsletter
was a simple recap of the previous week’s contest, sprinkled
with statistics and future schedules, which McGettigan put together
himself. At some point, the notion that the newsletter could be
improved upon rose to the surface, and graphics aside, the biggest
impact could be immediately made in one major area: the writing.
Enter Corey Ludwig.
Certainly reluctant to hire a writer specifically for the Terrible
Towel Club newsletter, McGettigan turned to Ludwig, the son of
his wife Barbara, who has enjoyed some freelance writing success,
having been hired to write a couple of screenplays, as well as
shouldering the editor duties for his own company’s newsletter.
Being a native of Pittsburgh himself as well as a former athlete,
Ludwig accepted the opportunity to exercise his writing muscles
and agreed to pen a weekly article that would allow him to combine
two of his biggest loves: sports and the Steelers. That was three
years ago. Neither McGettigan nor Ludwig could have envisioned
the outcome of their own alliance.
Already gainfully employed, Ludwig did not have access to the resources
normally available to the average sports writer, nor did he have
the time to perform such research even if it was available. Having
little choice, Ludwig found it necessary to deviate from the norm,
a philosophy he follows closely to this day. What resulted was
a series of creative, quirky editorials ranging anywhere from poetry
to fake diary entries; diatribes on sportsmanship to heartfelt
descriptions on what it was like growing up in Pittsburgh, all
revolving around the central theme of Steelers loyalty. The article’s
quickly became a staple of the Terrible Towel Club, providing enjoyment
for those patrons wandering in to sate their curiosity; providing
a piece of home for those transplanted Pittsburgh natives. In this
day and age of readily available information, where anyone around
the world could, if they so desired, download the latest edition
of the Pittsburgh Post Gazette from the comfort of their own home
in parts unknown, it’s still satisfying to walk into a desert
bar, adorned in black and gold and filled with Steeler jersey-wearing
patrons, and pick up a locally printed newsletter complete with
an article about home.
McGettigan and Ludwig had their own circumstances to contend with
circumstances that took them and their respective families far
from Pittsburgh. So they combined to create the next best thing.
They brought Pittsburgh to the Nevada desert, and in so doing,
created a pocket of alliance. And over the years, the alliance
has grown. Patrons gather to combine their support. They look forward
to the articles. And they collectively cheer for their favorite
team. In short, every Sunday of the NFL season, 400+ members of
the Terrible Towel Club of Las Vegas, Nevada . . . . . . take a
trip home to Pittsburgh.
Pieced together from “outside the
box” by none other than – Corey Ludwig!
TERRIBLE TOWEL CLUB
J.C.WOOLOUGHAN IRISH PUB
INSIDE THE JW MARRIOTT LAS VEGAS
221 N RAMPART BLVD,
LAS VEGAS, NV 89145
(702) 869-7725
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