Bleier’s Grandfather Wasn’t Shy About Contact

by Bo Marchionte
Published October 20, 2024, 08:37 PM

Pittsburgh, PA – The story of Rocky Bleier and the Pittsburgh Steelers’ rivalry with the Oakland Raiders in the 1970s is a tale of grit, redemption, and some of the most bruising battles in NFL history. At the heart of it were two franchises that defined toughness—and Bleier’s personal journey mirrored the resilience both teams embodied.

The story takes place at the Oakland-Alameda County Stadium back when both the Raiders and Steelers were annual attendees to the AFC Championship game. Prior to the Jets and Steelers facing off on Sunday, a large group of Steelers alumni attended the game and among the many familiar faces.

The story of Bleier’s grandfather Elmer Denessen, a French-Canadian farmer who lived in Minnesota didn’t take kindly to someone saying derogatory things to his grandson, Rocky. Bleier enthusiastically recalled the story of how his granddad took matters into his own hands, literally and figuratively.

“So, my grandfather was that type of guy,” Bleier said.

A man with knuckles hardened from years of hard work, calloused hands that told stories of wrenching tools and plowing fields on his farm in Minnesota. He was the kind of guy who didn’t believe in letting disrespect or foolishness slide. Grandad had a simple philosophy: some lessons are better learned the hard way.

The type of guy who would break you neck if you neck needed broken.

He didn’t go around looking for trouble, but if it came knocking, he’d answer with a haymaker. That old-school toughness was evident in the way Bleier himself carved out a distinctive role in the Steelers offense and becoming one of the iconic figures of one of the NFL’s most dominant teams.

“My dad Bob Bleier,” Rocky said, and his grandfather were sitting in the stands. “So, my grandfather was that type of guy. So, they went to the game (Bleier laughs) and they’re in the stands.

“Someone made a derogatory mark about his grandson, me. He stood up and took offense to it and the guy continued. So, he climbed up over the seats, two rows back and hit him.”

Bleier’s story is legendary. A college star at Notre Dame, he was drafted by the Steelers in 1968, but after his rookie season, he was drafted again—this time into the U.S. Army. In 1969, while serving in the Vietnam War, he was severely wounded by gunfire and a grenade blast that left him with shrapnel in his leg and serious damage to his foot. Doctors told him he would never play football again.

However, Bleier’s determination became the stuff of legend. Refusing to give up on his career, he spent years rehabbing and, against all odds, returned to the Steelers in 1971. By the mid-70s, Bleier not only reestablished himself as an NFL player but became a key part of the Steelers’ backfield, complementing Franco Harris in the famous ground-and-pound attack.

“He was, he was that type of guy,” Bleier said again when sharing another story about his grandfather. “So, when they sold the farm, they moved to California. His sons were Navy Seabees and so ultimately, they were in the construction business out in L.A. when they came back from World War II.”

Bleier said his uncles hired his grandad to be a flagman directing traffic. Once again, the rough-and-tough French-Canadian farmer who emerged as a motorist decided to act like the Raiders fan whose demise was coming.

“So, when he sold the farm, he moved out to California, they hired him as a flag man, you know, And there’s another story about the same thing. So, he’s there, you know, working the traffic. So, this car comes by, and so he’s waving to it to slow down or to stop.

“And the guy didn’t, and he went by, and my grandfather called him some names I can’t say what they were. He yelled for the guy to stop the car, and my grandfather went over to the car and the guy made the mistake he rolled on this window.

“Bam!”

Grandpa Denessen once again took matters into his own hands. Fun stories from a different time from a Steelers legend who lived and thrived in a different time of playing the game of football.

Something tells me that same spirit resonated inside Bleier while he was clearing paths for Harris during the 70s. Playing in an era of the National Football League that would be considered barbaric by today’s standards.

Photo Credit/Frank Hyatt/College2Pro.com