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It’s difficult to overshadow a game in which two touchdowns were negated by the officials in the last 30 seconds, enabling the Pittsburgh Steelers to hang on for a 29-24 victory over the Detroit Lions on Sunday in a Week 16 game with significant playoff implications.

Offensive interference penalties erased both Lions scores, including one of the wildest plays ever seen as time expired. What possibly could steal a headline from that?

How about Steelers star wide receiver DK Metcalf reaching into the stands and swinging at a fan with seemingly more force than the contact by Lions receivers that prompted the offensive interference flags?

Multiple videos captured Metcalf approach a fan wearing a blue wig at the first row of seats behind the Steelers’ bench at Ford Field. The fan leaned over the rail to say something and Metcalf reached up, grabbed him by the shirt or wig with his right hand before turning and walking away.

What would prompt Metcalf, one of the NFL’s top receivers in each of his seven seasons, to lose his temper and allegedly engage with a fan in a way strictly forbidden by the league?

Well, the fan, who identified himself as Ryan Kennedy from Pinckney, Mich., to the Detroit Free Press, said he called Metcalf by his full given name — DeKaylin Zecharius Metcalf — and that apparently touched a nerve.

“He doesn’t like his government name. I called him that and then he grabbed me and ripped my shirt,” Kennedy said. “I’m a little shocked. Like everyone’s talking to me. I’m a little rattled, but I just want the Lions to win, baby.”

Kennedy didn’t get his wish thanks to Lions receivers getting too pushy themselves, albeit on the field of play.

The play that will be replayed countless times came as time expired. Lions star wideout Amon-Ra St. Brown was stopped after catching a pass at the one-yard line, but before the whistle St. Brown underhanded the ball back to quarterback Jared Goff, who barreled into the end zone for what appeared to be a miraculous game-winning touchdown.

However, St. Brown had given Steelers cornerback Jalen Ramsey a shove before breaking free to make the catch and a flag had been thrown before Goff crossed the goal line. The officials announced after a lengthy huddle that St. Brown had committed offensive pass interference and that the game was over.

The applicable NFL rule reads: “If there is a foul by the offense, there shall be no extension of the period. If the foul occurs on the last play of the half, a score by the offense is not counted.”

Fewer than 30 seconds earlier, Lions rookie wide receiver Isaac TeSlaa set an illegal pick that enabled St. Brown — a former USC and Mater Dei High star — to break free in the end zone and make a nine-yard scoring catch.

The Steelers sideline erupted in joy after the second call resulted in a victory that put them in control of their destiny for the AFC North title. They need one win or a Baltimore Ravens loss in the last two weeks of the regular season to clinch it and secure a home playoff game.

The Lions, meanwhile, had their playoff chances reduced to 6% after the loss.

DeKaylin Zecharius Metcalf, it can be presumed, has a near 100% chance of being fined and suspended by the NFL for taking the swing at Kennedy.

The early 1980s Los Angeles of my childhood always felt like a place where you could brush against greatness and not even recognize it.

Take the strange, faceless building at Melrose and Sycamore avenues, just up from the house where I grew up. It stood apart from the Melrose Avenue hodgepodge, which included an auto body shop, an old bookstore famous for selling movie scripts, and a trendy boutique that sold vintage fedoras and marked the beginning of Melrose’s turn as a fashion mecca.

In a street filled with signage screaming for your attention (“THOUSANDS OF BOOKS,” yelled the bookseller), that corner lot had nothing. Just two concrete-plastered boxes seemingly closed off to the world. The only hint of life was a tree growing from what appeared to be some kind of courtyard hidden from view. I passed by all the time — sneaking a Chunky bar at the corner liquor store, grabbing an ice cream cone from Baskin-Robbins.

I didn’t give the building a second thought until my best friend and I started a little weekly newspaper we photocopied for 3½ cents a copy from a shop a few doors away. Jack and I hit up Melrose merchants to buy ads (usually just their business card), and a few agreed to help these teenage publishing tycoons. Because of this, cracking the code of that strange little building became a brief obsession. One day, I found a door around the side and knocked. No answer. So I left a copy of our paper and returned a few days later. No luck. So I gave up. Why was I wasting my time with this piece of junk?

It took another 15 years to learn that the concrete box I so easily dismissed is one of L.A. architectural treasures. It is called the Danziger Studio and was one of architect Frank Gehry’s first L.A. commissions.

Even back in the 1960s, it was hailed as something special. Architecture critic Reyner Banham called it a brilliant elevation of the “stucco box” so ubiquitous around the city. As it turned out, the surface was not concrete but “a gray rough stucco of the type sprayed onto freeway overpasses. Gehry had to learn the decidedly unconventional technique himself,” according to the Los Angeles Conservancy.

A vintage postcard from the collection of L.A. Times staff writer Patt Morrison shows a May Co. department store and its clean lines.

In his obituary for Gehry, Christopher Hawthorne described the studio as a “spare, even self-effacing stucco box, plain outside and filled with light and surprising spatial complexity inside.” The building “looked Modern but also suggested sympathy for the postwar visual chaos of L.A. evident in the work of artists such as Ed Ruscha and David Hockney.”

I discovered the provenance of the hidden gem in the 1990s, when Gehry had reached “starchitect” status with his shape-shifting museum in Bilbao, Spain, and just before he gained legend status for L.A.’s Disney Hall. The Danzinger Studio shared none of those over-the-top designs. But that made me more impressed. I started driving by whenever I was in the neighborhood, slowing down in hopes of understanding what made it great. One day, I even gave it a walk-around, assuming it must look a lot better inside. (It turns out it does.)

I came to appreciate its beauty and grace — as well as something much larger about L.A. design. Suddenly, my idea of great architecture broadened beyond the ornate church, grand mansion, distinctive Spanish Colonial or gleaming glass skyscrapers like the Westin Bonaventure hotel. I gained a respect for the simplicity of design and function over style, like a cute working-class courtyard apartment, the streamlined simplicity of a May Co. department store and even the crazed efficiency of a mini-mall.

Plaza Cienega is in the Beverly Grove area of Los Angeles.

(Google street view)

I have wondered whether I would have valued the Danziger Studio had it not been designed by Gehry. But it didn’t matter, because this discovery gave me the confidence to have my own, sometimes unpopular, L.A. opinions. I am in the minority, for example, in loving the much-derided 1960s brown-box addition to the old Times Mirror Square complex just as much as the landmark Art Deco original. And sorry, the mini-mall at 3rd Street and La Cienega Boulevard is one of my favorite L.A. buildings, period.

Trust me. I know.