By Cable Neuhaus
August 25, 1980 12:00 PM

Even as his football career hit its peak, Pittsburgh quarterback Terry Bradshaw seemed to sense that his marriage to figure skater JoJo Starbuck was on thin ice. Last year, as he led the Steelers to their fourth Super Bowl, Bradshaw complained publicly that his wife wasn’t around enough. “Okay, I’m a male chauvinist,” he said in his autobiography, Man of Steel. “I’m not ashamed of it. I think that for the most part a woman’s place is in the home.” JoJo, who has continued to skate professionally since her marriage, obviously disagrees. To solve their domestic problems, born-again Christians Terry and JoJo prayed together, studied their Bible, and even turned to outside experts. “We consulted one fine Christian counselor who said he didn’t even want to discuss the problem,” Bradshaw admitted. “He thought we were both selfish.”

Apparently no amount of faith or good works could save the union. Two weeks ago JoJo packed up, left their Pittsburgh penthouse and filed for divorce on grounds that the marriage was “irretrievably broken.” JoJo’s urban lifestyle apparently had little in common with the down-home tastes of country music fan Bradshaw. “She likes the ballet, I like square dancing,” Terry, 31, lamented. “She likes the bright lights, I like the soft moonlight of the ranch.” JoJo, a 29-year-old Southern Californian, never tried to hide the discomfort she felt on the couple’s 440-acre Louisiana ranch. “She thinks of it as being stuck out in the sticks,” said Bradshaw, whose previous marriage, to Melissa Babish, a former Miss Teenage America, ended in 1974. “There’s a whole lot of difference between Broadway and Holly, La.”

JoJo reportedly has returned to California. How much trouble his second marital turnover will cause Terry and the Steelers may become clear when the football season opens Sept. 7. Meantime, Terry has another crisis to worry about. A brand of peanut butter he endorses—and partly owns—is faltering at Pittsburgh supermarkets. If Terry’s Peanut Butter bombs, it will be Bradshaw’s second extracurricular failure. His first was a 1976 C&W album called, ironically, I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.