GETTYSBURG, Pa. -- The message was important enough that Denise Masciola found the composure to deliver it even as her boyfriend of three years, former Pittsburgh Steeler Steve Courson, lay yesterday in an open, oversized casket in the next room.
"This is something he would definitely want written," Masciola whispered, leaning forward and making eye contact with a reporter.
Masciola then told the story of how Courson - a hulking offensive lineman who won Super Bowl rings in the 1978 and 1979 seasons - loved his teammates but felt let down by their prolonged silence after he risked his career by speaking publicly about steroid use 20 years ago.
"He said he was disappointed they would continue to live a lie," Masciola said.
As the "Super Steelers" grew into middle age together, Courson - crushed to death at age 50 by a tree he was cutting down last week at his western Pennsylvania home - waited for his teammates to confirm his accounts of rampant use of performance-enhancing drugs, but it never happened, Masciola and other friends said.
"I wish they could do that now to let him go peacefully," she said. "But I knew he would take it to the grave with him. They had talked of taking a walk in the woods together sometime and clearing the air."
At yesterday's memorial service, held at an old Lutheran church, there were plenty of tears for Courson, who was a motivational speaker, health and fitness educator and youth football coach after his playing days ended in 1986. But there was also a gritty sense of determination - almost a defiance - among Masciola and other close friends that Courson's efforts to uncover the truth about steroid use in the past and present not stop now.
"I know who they are, these guys who shot steroids with Steve," said friend Matt Chaney, a Missouri-based writing instructor. "And these guys continue to live in the past in a boy's game. In their minds, they want to continue the `Super Steelers' legend."
Courson's body was attired yesterday in a gold shirt and black tie - Steelers colors. Masciola said that outfit was chosen because he believed the team had given him a "platform" to teach youths to stay away from steroids. One of his giant, framed No. 77 jerseys was positioned near the casket.
But Masciola said Courson no longer wore Steelers jerseys, and it had been months since he put on a Super Bowl ring. "He wanted people to know who the real Steve Courson was," she said.
