Poison was leaking inside the brain of Stan Savran as he sat in the office of an Allegheny General Hospital neurosurgeon in the fall of 2011.
The longtime Pittsburgh sportscaster listened as the doctor spoke about the cerebral abscess that had formed where a benign tumor had been removed from his skull a month earlier. An MRI and CT scan confirmed the presence of a pus-filled pocket of infected material that could cause swelling and harmful pressure to brain tissue.
Alarming medical diagnoses were nothing new to Savran who’s undergone 27 surgeries, more than many of the Pittsburgh athletes he’s covered since 1976. The procedure, the doctor told him, involved scraping the seeping fluid from his brain to alleviate the danger.
Savran processed the information even as he couldn’t help think about what might have caused the infection. Maybe an unsterile instrument used during his previous surgery.
The Steelers’ season was reaching its midpoint. The Penguins were just underway. These were the years when Savran was logging 14- to 15-hour work days. As the neurosurgeon laid out his plan for attack, the Godfather of Pittsburgh Sports finally spoke:
“Can this wait? It’s football season and I’m pretty busy.”
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On a humid Wednesday afternoon, Savran was doing what he enjoys most in life. He was talking sports on his weekday show on 970-AM inside the iHeartRadio studios atop Green Tree Hill.
He was interviewing a hockey writer about the retirement of legendary play-by-play man Mike Lange. Savran spoke of Lange’s unmistakable impact on the franchise, his meticulous preparation and his innate ability to anticipate big moments in a game.
Savran offered a reflection only a man armed with 45 years of experience in the Pittsburgh market could make. In a region known for its socially conservative mores, he said, its three most iconic broadcasters, Bob Prince, Myron Cope and Lange, were colorful characters not afraid to stray from the norms.
"That's a great observation, Stan," the writer said.
As the interview was reaching its conclusion, Savran noted that Lange had arrived in Pittsburgh about 18 months before he did.
“We’re among the last standing,” he said.
Prince and Cope are dead. So are Savran’s good buddies Sam Nover and Beano Cook. Other than the Steelers’ radio play-by-play man, Bill Hillgrove, 80, Savran represents the last of the old sports broadcasting guard. Even his former SportsBeat sidekick, Guy Junker, is nearly a decade younger than Savran, who turns 75 in February.
While Savran has seen his presence on Penguins’ and Pirates’ pregame shows significantly reduced in part due to the pandemic, he demonstrates no signs of quitting. One gets the sense the sports commentator, who lives alone in his suburban Pittsburgh home, will work until nobody offers him a contract.
“I’ve thought about retirement, but I’ve never thought about retiring,” Savran said. “In this business, they tell you, ‘You’re done.’ Left to my own devices, I don’t plan on retiring. This is not only what I do, it’s who I am.”
Savran looks and sounds remarkably good for a man his age. He weighs less now than he did when he played high school football. His only concession to Father Time are the reading glasses that he removes when he notices someone taking his picture in the studio.
His sports commentary remains on point. Although he’s ridden in championship parades with the Steelers and Penguins, Savran has never been afraid to be critical. In his early years, some talk-show callers savaged him for his Cleveland roots and the fact both he and his father had been Browns’ season-ticket holders.
“People would call me up and say, ‘We think you’re a spy for the Browns,” Savran recalled. “They weren’t kidding. They actually thought Art Modell sent me to Pittsburgh to spy because I was from Cleveland.”
Savran loves Pittsburgh and cherishes the friendships and associations he’s made over five decades, but he won’t turn a blind eye to shortcomings and failings. He said the city had a “racist” element in the 1970s, citing the fact some callers would say they wouldn’t attend Pirates’ games because their roster was populated with Black and Latino stars.
His willingness to speak the truth, as he sees it, earned him criticism, but also respect from peers and the organizations he covered.
“Stan's the No. 1 guy — bigger than Cope,” wrote 105.9 the X sports talk show host Mark Madden in a text message exchange. “Cope did one-hour shows, mostly. Stan's been in the trenches, and he's never been a homer. Stan was the first pragmatic, non-cheerleading guy in local sports talk.”
Savran has survived firings, program cancellations and changes to station ownership. He’s built his reputation on television and radio while spending many seasons playing in pain.
To walk a mile in his orthopedic shoes requires a focus on balance. He’s had two toes completely removed and two others partially removed due to diabetes, which runs through his family. The blood condition, diagnosed at age 17, also contributed to his open-heart surgery in 2009. When he awoke, doctors informed him they had done eight bypasses.
Four days later, a groggy Savran received a phone call from Mario Lemieux wishing him a speedy recovery. The sign of respect flattered him — and nearly killed him.
“When Mario called, I almost had a heart attack, and I couldn’t afford one at that moment,” Savran said laughing.
He fought with doctors in the spring of 2008 to board a plane for the Stanley Cup Final in Detroit just days after spinal fusion — one of his four back surgeries. Savran still made his way to Motown for Game 5 of the series.
“I’ve visited him in the hospital so many times I get confused when trying to remember the reasons,” Junker said.
His former SportsBeat co-host attributes Savran’s longevity to several factors: informed opinions, natural talent, an encyclopedic recall of sports knowledge and a relentless work ethic.
“He never takes a day off, he never takes the lazy way out,” Junker said. “You ask him about the starting five from Oklahoma State basketball team in the 1941 NCAA tournament, and he probably knows it. He knows stuff about everything. I have a daughter, Natalee, who’s big into theater. Her and Stan will sit down and talk about Broadway the way you and I would talk about the 1979 World Series.”
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STEELERS
Stan Savran chats with Art Rooney II during a Steelers' function with fans.
Savran spent last weekend on his couch dabbing his eyes as he listened to the Pro Football Hall of Fame induction speeches of five Steelers.
Nobody in Pittsburgh sports history this side of Jim Leyland has been more easily moved to tears.
“There are TV commercials that get to me — that’s how bad I am,” Savran said. “TV shows, movies, emotional moments in sports. I was listening to Bill Cowher’s speech and thinking about him coming back to Pittsburgh to coach the Steelers at age 34, and how much he grew up and matured. I remember what it’s like to be 34. I was an idiot.”
Savran’s eyes became glassy as he told the story of what sparked his interest in broadcasting. He was a high school senior ready to attend Miami University and pursue a degree in education. The four-sport athlete at Mayfield High School wanted to be a teacher and a coach.
Then, one night he served as the public-address announcer for a basketball game featuring the Mayfield faculty and Browns’ football players. Such exhibitions were common before OTAs, year-round weight training and multi-million dollar contracts.
After the game, Savran was approached by the school’s vice principal and former football coach Eugene “Dutch” Schmidt. At this point, it should be noted that there’s no such thing as a short Stan Savran story. Each one is filled with rich detail. Schmidt was an intimidating presence, a stocky Korean War veteran who lost part of an index finger in combat and often pointed the “stub” at misbehaving students. These were the days of corporal punishment and Schmidt was the “Sultan of Swat.”
On this night, Schmidt only offered Savaran a piece of advice: He should consider studying broadcasting because of his deep voice and sports intellect. Savran had never thought about being a commentator, but the idea sounded appealing. With his parents’ approval, he changed majors.
Savran worked in Lawton, Okla., Columbus and Orlando before landing his first job in Pittsburgh on Jan. 19, 1976 — the day after the Steelers’ won their second Super Bowl.
In 2003, Savran wrote a column in the Post-Gazette recounting the life-changing advice from his assistant principal. Schmidt read it, called Savran and thanked him for the salute. The old Dutchman died a few years later.
“Without him, who knows where I end up,” said Savran, his eyes welling with tears. “I might be a retired teacher by now. I know this. I never thought about going into broadcasting before that night.”
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STAN SAVRAN
A picture of Chuck Noll is fastened to the refrigerator in Stan Savran's home.
Two images adorn the refrigerator in Savran’s home — one of former president Barack Obama, the other of Chuck Noll.
Savran considers himself fortunate to have covered Pittsburgh franchises that have won four Super Bowls, five Stanley Cups and a World Series. He’s rubbed elbows with greatness and bathed in champagne celebrations.
The Steelers of the late 1970s take pride of place in his mantle of memories.
“The mania over the Steelers was overwhelming,” Savran said. “Those teams revitalized the city. The steel industry had collapsed. Unemployment was unbelievably high. Families who had been in the mills for generations, gone. But the Steelers were the one thing people could point to and say, ‘Yeah, my life has kind of turned to shit, but we’ve got the best damn football team in the world.' It was a vicarious sense of pride and it was palpable.”
The gridiron alchemist who transformed talented individuals into four-time champions was a Clevelander, a coach born in the same hospital as Savran.
Noll and Savran forged a relationship built on trust and respect. The Hall of Famer paid Savran the ultimate compliment in 1992 as SportsBeat became the first show to land a sit-down interview with the the Steelers coach after he retired.
“Chuck just commanded your respect,” Savran said. “Beyond his accomplishments, (there was) his intellect, his discipline, his feel for people and how to deal with them.”
So much has changed in sports since Savran began his career in Pittsburgh. Good reporters still form professional bonds with athletes, but the proliferation of media covering teams and the reduced access has made getting to know players and coaches more difficult.
Savran was around the same age of the 1970s Super Steelers. It was a different era, a time when Dwight White and Jack Ham would bum cigarettes off him in the locker room. Savran cultivated sources and gathered background information, which he could use to inform his audiences.
Among the players he liked most was Mike Webster. Savran made a trip to Canton in 1997 when Terry Bradshaw “put (his) hands under Mike Webster’s butt” one last time on stage for the center’s HOF induction. Webster told the broadcaster he was returning to Pittsburgh in the fall to watch his son, Garrett, play his senior season of high school football.
Savran was thrilled. He offered “Iron Mike” a weekly guest appearance on SportsBeat and a few hundred bucks for the trouble. There were already whispers about Webster’s erratic behavior, but the taped segments went along without a problem until one day Savran learned the truth about Webster’s lodging. He wasn’t staying in an apartment in Moon Township, Savran said, but living in his car that was parked outside the Wisconsin home of his ex-wife and three children.
Webster had been driving 17 hours to Pittsburgh to record the shows. Several of his former teammates, with the help of the organization, found temporary lodging for him as he wrestled with the demons impairing his judgment. One day late in 1997, Savran arrived at his office to find a 16-page handwritten letter from Webster apologizing for his on-air performances and raging over how he had failed so many people he loved.
“It’s the most heartbreaking, heart-wrenching thing I’ve ever read,” Savran said.
The commentator notified Webster’s attorney, who used the letter as evidence to help his client receive more money from the NFL players association. Savran had to take a deposition to verify the letter he had received.
Following his 2002 death, Webster became the first NFL player diagnosed with chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE., the degenerative brain disease linked to repeated head hits.
Savran said he owes a debt to old Pittsburgh print journalists such as Bob Smizik, Dave Ailes and Phil Musick, who helped teach him about the line separating reporters and athletes and what constituted crossing it.
“I always felt I could be fair and honest without breaching any confidences, and without softening my stances,” Savran said. “I’ve always felt that way.”
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GUY JUNKER
Stan Savran and Guy Junker in New Castle, Pa., while on a break during their SportsBeat show.
Junker was a small-town radio reporter in Beaver County, living on “Hamburger Helper” in 1983 when he first crossed paths with a man who would become one of his dearest friends.
The Penguins had called a news conference to announce Eddie Johnston as their new general manager, and the room inside the Downtown Press Club was packed. Junker’s biggest reward for an early day’s work would be a nice lunch.
After filing his report, he returned to his seat only to find it occupied by Savran, who had arrived a few minutes late.
“Stan didn’t know I had been sitting there,” Junker recalled. “There were no other empty seats. Stan had already become a big deal in Pittsburgh and I didn’t want to say anything. I just left. I didn’t eat. I was too intimidated to say, ‘Hey, you’re in my seat.’”
So began one of the best broadcasting partnerships in the city’s sports history.
A year later, Junker was hired by WTAE to produce Savran’s nightly sportscasts. The two men became friends, bonded by their lower middle-class upbringings and a love of sports. They played together on the company’s softball team. They were engaged and married in the same years. Savran was with Junker on the night the producer received word his mother had died.
Junker left Pittsburgh for a short time to work at SNN, a 24-hour sports cable channel that went bankrupt in 1990. He was back tending bar in Pittsburgh when the founder of KBL — the regional cable sports network that’s morphed into AT&T SportsNet — offered him a job.
In 1991, KBL launched SportsBeat, a call-in show the station used as shoulder programming for its Pirates’ and Penguins’ telecasts. SportsBeat struggled to find an audience in its early years and its original host, KDKA’s Bob Pompeani, had to step aside when KBL’s lease with KDKA’s studio expired and the cable outfit moved its home to rival WPXI.
Savran had just been fired at WTAE, and his no-compete clause forced him to wait a year to accept a sports anchor’s position at KDKA. Savran’s agent found a loophole in the clause, allowing him to jump to KBL. He was paired with Junker and enjoyed the new venture so much that he stuck with SportBeat rather than taking the KDKA job.
Not that the show was earning better ratings.
KBL general manager Bill Craig told employees they might want to start looking for other employment, but eventually SportsBeat began to draw eyeballs and sponsors. The show expanded from a half-hour to 60 minutes, serving as a lead-in to the network’s pre-game telecasts.
If arriving in Pittsburgh during the middle of the Steelers’ dynasty represented Savran’s first brush with good timing, his decision to stick with KBL became the second. Cowher was building the Steelers into a winner, Leyland had the Pirates contending for a pennant and Lemieux and Jaromir Jagr were turning the Penguins into a high-scoring NHL powerhouse.
“Myron Cope told Guy one time, ‘You guys are exactly what happened to me with the Steelers. I came onboard and they started to win. The Penguins are now massive in this town, and you guys are right there,’ ” Savran recalled. “Myron was right.”
The internet was in its infancy and sports messages boards didn’t exist. SportsBeat became the place where Pittsburgh fans gathered to talk sports. Even out-of-towners could rant and rave provided they had a satellite dish and a KBL subscription.
As SportsBeat grew in popularity, WDVE’s Jimmy Krenn developed a skit featuring a character named The Scorekeeper, who began each segment with: “Stan, Guy love the show.” Thirty years later, Savran and Junker still are approached by fans who yell, “Stan, Guy, love the show.”
“It really caught on,” Savran said. “To this day, my Twitter handle is @StanLoveTheShow.”
Through sponsorship arrangements, guests were squired to and from the SportsBeat studio in limousines. They also were plied with Ruth’s Chris gift certificates. One night, they surprised Franco Harris with a visit from a man who claimed to own the Immaculate Reception ball that the Steelers’ running back had caught in the 1972 playoff game.
“The guy tossed the ball across the set and Franco caught it,” Junker said. “There were tears in Franco’s eyes.”
Savran and Junker took the show on the road. They broadcast from the home porches of fans who had submitted applications to host them. They once did a telecast on an ostrich farm in Mount Pleasant.
The program held its ratings even as the network rebranded from KBL to Prime Sports to Fox Sports Pittsburgh to FSN Pittsburgh. But in 2003, a Fox executive in Los Angeles deemed the show “too Pittsburgh” and not polished enough for the network’s taste.
Junker was let go in 2003 and “SportsBeat with Stan Savran” ended a six-year run in 2009.
The two friends reunited on radio for several years, and Junker still makes a weekly appearance on Savran’s current show, which occupies a noon-to-2 p.m., time slot.
Junker and Savran have so many tales from their times together. One night, while waiting to host “Hockey Hotline,” they were eating pizza and watching the game. The Penguins were on the wrong end of many calls, and Junker and Savran were shouting profanities at the television. During one outburst, the door opened and into the room walked Bishop Donald Wuerl.
The bishop, taping a Mass for shut-ins at an adjacent studio, had just dropped by to say hello.
“We greeted the bishop and shook his hand,” Junker recalled. “Then, Stan looks at me and says, ‘I’ve never been so glad to be Jewish.’”
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For a 74-year-old man with foot problems, Savran is constantly on the move. He spends 30 minutes a day on an Elliptical machine, a regimen he adopted following his 2009 heart surgery. He also plays tennis on Saturdays and Sundays, weather permitting, with a group of friends at the Whitehall courts in Baldwin.
Yep, the guy missing toes, including a big toe, is a tennis fiend.
“Stan would play in three feet of snow,” longtime friend Kevin Sutton said. “The other guys have more common sense.”
Savran took up the sport in 1975 and his passion for the game makes him a frequent spectator at the US Open. He’s even traveled to Wimbledon to get his tennis fix.
His group of friends play each weekend afternoon for 2-1/2 hours, although the first 30 minutes are often dedicated to hurling insults at each other. Savran brings two rackets, Sutton said, one to hit balls and the other to throw in disgust. No subject appears off limits when the jokes start flying.
“We told Stan one day, ‘We've started a dead pool and everybody chose you,’” Sutton said. “But Stan might end up outlasting us all.”
Savran’s zest for life and work remain high. He worries that AT&T SportsNet decision-makers will continue to decrease his number of appearances on Pirates’ and Penguins’ pre-game shows, but he’s as prepared as ever for spot duties. He was one of the few iHeartRadio hosts who did his show in studio during the height of the pandemic.
His commitment to his craft likely contributed to him not marrying until age 45, he said. His 15-year marriage ended in 2007.
Savran, who doesn’t have any children, lives with few regrets. The opportunity to talk sports still excites him. He learned years ago the importance of developing an on-air personality, and it benefits him greatly in an age when sports talk shows take fewer calls from listeners.
“You need to work alone to truly stand out in radio,” wrote Madden, who hung the Godfather nickname on Savran. “A lot of guys can't do it, so they don’t — or aren't allowed to. But Stan got himself over as a single, but not at the expense of credibility or content. He doesn't do bad shows. He's never disappointed. I wish I could say the same.”
Savran doesn’t dwell on the past, but he was happy to reminisce during a two-hour interview after a recent show. He smiled at the memory of Cope and Cook appearing together on SportBeat and telling tales from the 1950s and 1960s. He pictured Cook walking through the KBL studio at Christmas time and handing out money to the interns and production staff.
Among Savran's favorite SportsBeat shows was one from 1992, the day after Sid Bream scored the winning run in Game 7 of the NLCS to beat the Pirates. Cook labeled it the worst day in Pittsburgh sports history.
“We were like therapists, taking calls from grieving fans because everyone knew that team was going to split up,” Savran said. “It was a catharsis. I really think we did some good that night.”
Savran wakes up at 6:30 every morning to drink his coffee and read stories on his computer.
“When it gets to around 8, I ask myself, ‘What now?’ ” Savran said. “Until I can answer that question, I don’t think I can retire.”
The Godfather of Pittsburgh Sports rides down an elevator and shows his guest to the parking garage. He heads home to see what’s in the fridge, the one with Noll’s picture on it.
He will be back in the studio Monday. For Savran, the show must go on.
