"Mean" Joe Greene has long since morphed into "Mellow" Joe Greene, but he'll be far from mellow when the Steelers kick off Sunday against the Dallas Cowboys.
Greene lives smack in the middle of Cowboys country, so he knows that Jerry Jones' boys didn't get to 7-1 by accident.
"I'm going to be nervous, nervous, nervous," Greene said from his home in Flower Mound, Texas. "I am definitely fearful of that little running back (Ezekiel Elliott, who at 6 feet, 225 pounds might seem small only to a man who used to swallow entire offensive lines in one bite). He's legit. In past years, I probably wouldn't be as nervous, because we'd have an answer for him. We'll just have to wait and see."
I reached out to Greene this week because it's Steelers-Cowboys _ a clash of iconic franchises _ and because on the rare occasions they meet, I cannot help but think of their two epic 1970s Super Bowls. Particularly I remember Super Bowl XIII, a 35-31 Steelers victory that might have featured more talent than any football game on record. Thirteen starters (not to mention both coaches, plus multiple executives) would be enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
But I also thought of Greene because of all he has endured of late. He recently lost his wife of 47 years, Agnes, a great friend in legendary Steelers scout Bill Nunn Jr. and his former coach, Chuck Noll, the man who insisted on Greene as his first-ever draft pick.
I wondered what it was like for Greene to be the last living member of the Steel Curtain's original front four, which included L.C. Greenwood, Ernie Holmes and Dwight White.
So the obvious and cliched question to kick off our conversation also seemed loaded: How are you?
"Life is good," Greene said. "I'm not complaining about anything. I just recently remarried to a young lady who makes me very happy. I get up every day when I want to get up and do what I want to do. Usually I'm visiting with friends and going to games for my grandkids. It's not real complicated. I know I don't like Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings because I signed up for an exercise program, and I tell you, one of the joys of my life was when I stopped playing football because I did not like the workouts, the running, any of that.
"But I guess I see my friend Mel Blount looking like he's 23, and I figure I gotta do something."
A wonderful documentary titled "Joe Greene, A Football Life" premiered on the NFL Network two years ago. An especially poignant scene showed Greene with Agnes, their three grown children, seven grandchildren and several other family members talking about "Papa Joe" and how the younger kids had no idea why strangers so often approached him with such reverence.
Of course, the men who knew him best often approached him that way, too. Greene is the only Steeler from the 1970s to have his jersey (No. 75) retired. All you need to know to understand his place in franchise history is that Dan Rooney chose him as his Hall-of-Fame presenter in 2000.
Greene, who turned 70 in September, agreed that "surreal" is a good word to describe his status as the lone living member of his legendary defensive line. Holmes died in a one-car accident in 2008 at age 59. White died the same year from complications after back surgery. He was 58. And in 2013, Greenwood died of kidney failure at age 67.
The four of them _ Mean Joe, Mad Dog (White), Hollywood Bags (Greenwood) and Fats (Holmes) _ stayed close, traveling to autograph shows together and tracking each other's ups and downs.
"I remember Ernie would call the house, and if my wife got the phone, which she usually did, he'd talk to her for two hours, and I'd get maybe 10 minutes," Greene recalled, laughing. "It was pretty much the same thing with Dwight. We all formed a group where we would make public appearances, and it was really good for us to talk about life after football. I was asked to say some words at L.C.'s funeral and I knew this was going to happen: I couldn't finish once I started talking. That was somewhat of an issue my whole career, being emotional."
With that, Mellow Joe paused, as he does from time to time in conversation. His words grew deeper.
"I miss those guys terribly," he said. "Yes I do. Yes I do. Every day, at some point, I think about them and Chuck (Noll). I'm glad we had our time together because it's like gold. I can open the vault and have a chance to revisit those experiences any time I want. I love that ... I love that."
And life moves on. Just a few months ago, an old Cowboy _ running back Calvin Hill _ took Greene on a tour of "The Star," the Cowboys' lavish new practice facility, part of a $1 billion complex in Frisco, Texas. It's equipped with an indoor field (with stadium seating), full cafeteria, outdoor fields, weight rooms and a 150-seat meeting room.
Suffice to say, there was nothing like it at Three Rivers Stadium circa 1974.
As he strolled the facility, Greene spotted a photo of Hall-of-Fame quarterback Roger Staubach, a man the Steelers beat twice in the Super Bowl. If the Cowboys win those games, you know, they go down as the team of the '70s. Greene considers the Oakland Raiders "the team that pushed us to great heights" but he acknowledges what beating "America's Team" meant for the Steelers.
"I guess you can say that put us in a stratosphere higher than most," he said.
A day after our conversation, I called back with one more question: How often does he wear one of his six Super Bowl rings (four of which he won as a player)?
Mellow Joe laughed and said that although he is especially fond of the first one, he didn't wear any for 20 years on account of the commotion they attracted. But then he thought about it. He remembered how winning a championship back then didn't equal big money, at least not by today's standards. It was all about the ring.
"So I said, 'Man, let me wear my rings.' I wear them quite a bit now."
