"We won."
David DeCastro scissored off the tattered tape from his ankles, his wrists and wherever else NFL athletes try in vain to spare their bodies. He sat at his stall bruised. At the next stall, Marcus Gilbert was a bit bloodied. At the next, Ramon Foster could barely budge.
If the Steelers' locker room at Heinz Field were a MASH unit, the farthest corner from the entrance, the one that houses the offensive line, would be triage.
"Yeah," DeCastro came back when I brought that up. "But we won. That's all that matters."
They did: Steelers 38, Raiders 35.
And the big man was right: That was all that seemed to matter on this Sunday afternoon.
This game was ridiculous. Its storyline was so cluttered with so many clusters of the completely unpredictable that it's hard to know where to start in describing it. The franchise quarterback was felled for a second time this season, Ben Roethlisberger's left foot was sprained to force a fourth-quarter exit, and somehow even that could got lost in all the other potentially sensational headlines that surrounded it.
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