NEWS: coach Mike Tomlin, and the pursuit of a Super Bowl, Cameron Heyward

This team can win the Super Bowl. Back in November, when we were sitting at 4-5, that would’ve seemed like a crazy thing to say, but I fully believe it now. I’ll explain why, but first I have to tell a quick story.

Its about my draft night, and it’s about what it means to me to wear the black and gold. (It’s also pretty embarrassing, so just stick with me.)

My mom says I was born to be a Steeler. I was actually born in Pittsburgh, so that was a start.

My dad, Ironhead Heyward, went to college at Pitt, where he met my mom. All her family is from Pittsburgh, and naturally they’re all huge Steeler fans. So even though my dad played for the Saints, Bears, Falcons, Rams and Colts – and even though we eventually moved down to Georgia – my mom’s side of the family had been brainwashing me from an early age. Every time I went to visit my grandparents, there would be 10 new Steelers books on their huge bookshelf. They must have had every single book ever published on Art Rooney, Chuck Noll and the Steel Curtain.

When I got to Ohio State, I met the woman who would become my wife. One of the first things I asked her after I found out she was from Cleveland was, “You’re not a Browns fan, right?”

She wasn’t. Bullet dodged.

At my pro day before the 2011 draft, I was super excited because all the Steelers coaches were there for my workout. But nobody was more excited than my mom. As I was walking off the field after my workout, I saw her talking to coach Tomlin. I still don’t know what they talked about. But I’m pretty sure she was planting the seeds for me.

So when draft night rolled around, I chose to stay home with all my family instead of going to New York. I was projected as a late first-rounder, but the problem was that the Steelers weren’t picking until No.31. About 25 picks in, I started getting nervous. I was checking my phone nonstop.

At pick No.30, the Jets were on the clock. I knew there was a chance they’d take me. Just then, my phone rang.

No disrespect to the Jets, but my heart sank. I looked down at my phone. Everybody in the room was hovering over me, trying to see who was calling. Somebody next to me yelled out, “It’s a 412! It’s Pittsburgh!”