I grew up three miles outside of Stahlstown, PA. The “town” label is a gross exaggeration but, then again, “Stahlscrossroads” doesn’t have much of a ring to it. Eight miles further down the road is Ligonier, Pa., a real town where we bought our groceries, did our banking and went to the movies. Twenty minutes over the ridge in the other direction, however, is Latrobe. We didn’t head over there very often when I was a boy — except during Steelers training camp. That Saint Vincent was actually a college and was quite busy every semester meant nothing to me — a mere afterthought to the glorious truth that it was home to training camp.