I bleed black and gold. So did my mom. She sent me a sign at the NFL draft. | Opinion

Blue skies and warm temperatures couldn’t deter me from putting on my sweatshirt of my favorite NFL team and heading to the NFL draft in downtown Detroit last month with my 12 ½-year-old son.

Before I go any further, this journey isn’t about my most beloved team, which I know probably isn’t your most beloved team.

It’s about a mother’s love, a stranger, and how fate collided these two things in a most unusual way.

Many of us have stories from the NFL draft — more than 775,000 of us went to Hart Plaza and Campus Martius Park during the draft in Detroit, held April 25-27.

Many more worked as police officers, food service employees, bartenders, clean-up crew or attended other draft-related events nearby.

My draft story is an emotional one, and it's fitting that it happened just a few weeks before Mother's Day.

Black and gold, in a field of Honolulu blue

You see, my mom was a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. I was watching Steelers football in the womb.

As a product of southwestern Pennsylvania, I bleed black and gold, just as most of you bleed Honolulu Blue.

My mom died when my son was five months old. She spent the last few years of her life, and her decades-long battle with MS, in a nursing home in my hometown of Uniontown, about an hour south of Pittsburgh. She held her only grandchild just once.

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She passed her love of the Steelers down to me. And I passed my love of the Steelers — to my husband’s chagrin (I won’t mention his most beloved team, but it’s a bitter rival of my team) — down to our son.

But don’t worry, our born-in-Detroit lil man loves his Lions.

So, sharing the NFL draft experiences with him in Detroit, my second home, was important to me.

Like many, we snapped photos with the Lombardi Trophy. We saw Hall of Fame busts, the Heisman Trophy, the exhibit to Steelers’ founder Art Rooney and the Walter Peyton NFL Man of the Year Award, which this year went to the Steelers’ Cam Heyward.

We cheered with the crowd during the sixth round of the draft and the 189th pick, by the Lions, at the draft theater. And I chanted: "Here We Go, Steelers, Here We Go" with a spattering of Steeler fans (amid a lot of boos) before the 195th draft pick, by Pittsburgh.

Strangers on a shuttle bus

On the shuttle bus ride back to the parking garage, my son noticed a man in a Steelers jersey climb aboard, accompanied by a young girl, and sit in front of us on the other side of the aisle.

I asked if he was from around here. He said he was from outside of Pittsburgh. Of course, I had to ask where, and that led to a little back and forth about small towns in the Keystone State that Michiganders have probably never heard of.

Then, I learned he and I graduated from the same high school, though he was four years ahead of me, and that his dad taught in the rival school district. He attended the same junior high school I did (and the other one in town for a spell, too).

He currently lives in the town where I hop onto the Pennsylvania Turnpike when leaving my dad’s house — he still lives in my hometown — to drive back to Detroit.

We chatted a bit more inside the parking garage. About how the girl, who appeared a little younger than my son, is a huge sports fan. How we believe the Steelers made good draft picks this year. How we both hope Pittsburgh gets selected to host the draft in 2026. And how, if anyone can rival Detroit’s turnout, it could be the ‘Burgh, where Steeler Nation and its Terrible Towel fanbase are vast.

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He praised Detroit; the people, and the great, family-friendly experience the two of them had. I told him the city has changed a lot in the nearly quarter century that I’ve lived in the region, huge strides of improvements in downtown and the neighborhoods.

We shook hands before we parted. I asked him his name. I told him mine.

Mom, I heard you

I sat gobsmacked in my car replaying what just happened. What were the odds that a guy from my high school in another state was in our shuttle bus at the draft in Detroit — five and half hours from my hometown?

Later, when I thought about it more, I realized it was fate.

I believe my mom had something to do with this chance encounter. To me, there is no other explanation.

I felt a connection to my hometown, to my family − and to her. And to snapshots in time buried in my memories.

Times when we watched football or talked about the games on the phone. Conversations I wish I was able to have today.

Before writing this, I went to classmates.com to see if I could find this guy. Just to be sure. As a reporter, I double-check everything.

Sure enough, he was a senior in the class of 1988. He practically looks the same. And here’s a funny tidbit: He was in the marching band, and in his senior year, was named one of the two most musical (instrumental) seniors by his classmates. Four years later, I was in the marching band; and I was named one of two most musical (instrumental) by my classmates in my senior year. Who would’ve thunk it?

Sometimes, life sprinkles smiles your way.

Detroit, you did well for the NFL draft. As many on social media said: You understood the assignment.

Mom, apparently so did you.

Contact Christina Hall: chall@freepress.com. Follow her on X, formerly Twitter: @challreporter. Submit a letter to the editor at freep.com/letters and we may publish it online or in print.

This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: During Detroit 2024 NFL draft, I believe I got a message from my mom