Most of the regulars knew the drill and brought a dish to pass.
This was a tailgate party, and the aroma of Italian sausage and red gravy was still in the air in the second quarter, when the three TV sets at Mayme’s Bar flashed an image that sent patrons into celebration mode.
It was the sight of Green Bay running back Samkon Gado racing toward the end zone, outrunning Lions strong safety Kenoy Kennedy.
Though the bar was decked out in Lions memorabilia, the loyalty of its fan club was revealed the moment Gado scored, slicing the Lions’ lead to 13-9 during last Sunday night’s nationally televised game at Lambeau Field.
The cheers were all for Green Bay.
For many in this tight-knit Upper Peninsula community of 8,000, only a few miles from the Wisconsin border, it has been this way since Nov. 28, the day the Lions fired Iron Mountain’s own Steve Mariucci.
To support their hometown guy, many local folks have severed any allegiance to the Lions and become full-blooded Packers fans again, especially when the division rivals meet twice a year.
“I was smiling when the Lions got beat [by the Packers],” said Denny Chartier, superintendent for Iron Mountain public schools.
Mariucci, 50, has spent most of his adult life outside the state. But his ties to Iron Mountain are so strong that Maryann Boddy, principal at Iron Mountain High, allowed teachers to turn on their classroom TVs so students could watch the news conference.
Boddy was standing last week in the commons area of the Izzo-Mariucci fitness center, a state-of-the art facility that opened 2 1/2 years ago. The 17,610-square-foot center, built as an addition to the school, was funded from proceeds and donations from the annual golf classic run by Mariucci and Michigan State basketball coach Tom Izzo.
Mariucci and his best friend, Izzo, graduated from Iron Mountain High in 1973. Both went to Northern Michigan, where Mariucci, a three-time most valuable player on the football team, was the starting quarterback for the 1975 NCAA Division II champions.
Izzo was the basketball MVP at Northern Michigan in 1977.
“We’ve become such supporters of Steve and Tom Izzo because they’ve supported us for all these years,” Boddy said.
“I was born and raised a Packers fan, but I became a Lions fan when Steve took over.”
Now she’s rooting for the Packers again.
Ray and Dee Mariucci, Steve’s parents, have lived in the same four-bedroom house in Iron Mountain for more than 40 years. They were in Detroit for the Thanksgiving game, a 27-7 loss to Atlanta that led to their son’s dismissal four days later.
“It’s just beginning not to hurt so much,” Dee Mariucci said. “We got to Detroit over Thanksgiving, and Steve had said, `Let’s make this a family reunion.’ Twenty-six people, kids and grandkids, were there.
“The Lions were waiting for a miracle, but miracles don’t happen that soon.”
Ralph Izzo, Tom Izzo’s 85-year-old uncle and a longtime friend of the Mariucci family, said: “The whole town is down. The least they could have done was let him finish out the year. But we’ll be OK.”
At Iron Mountain High, pictures of Izzo and Mariucci seem to decorate every wall. Boddy said all of their photos are staying to honor Mariucci’s NFL coaching career–even the pictures with Lions President Matt Millen in them.
“I don’t see why they should come down,” she said. “They’re part of his legacy.”
A short distance away, another message is staying put. Dressed for the holidays, a sign welcoming visitors to Iron Mountain stands in front of a Christmas tree twinkling with multicolored lights:
It says: “The Proud Home of Tom Izzo and Steve Mariucci.”
