Starting Up Season 127

As Opening Day draws near, this Pirates fan waxes nostalgic about past glories and ignominious failures.

Monday the Pittsburgh Pirates will start their 127^th season. Wait a minute, the Pirates joined the National League in 1887, this should only be their 122^nd, you might say. That’s only too true, and it is only their 122^nd National League season, but the Pirates were born in the glory days of the American Association when it was the rival major league of the National.

Why on earth would anyone know this? I have to confess, I have a seemingly incurable case of Pirate fever. Let me share some of my secret shame.

I attended my first Pirate game sometime in either 1968 or ‘69 in Forbes Field. I remember very little about this game, but have some vague memories of my dad being irate about finding a place to park, and how the place smelled funny. We moved to upstate New York where I do remember watching the first ever World Series game I ever saw, because it was on at night. Bruce Kison came on in relief and the Pirates were World Series champs in 1971. It wasn’t until 1974 that our family moved back to Pittsburgh that I saw a game in Three Rivers Stadium.

Some part of me still can’t believe Three Rivers is gone, I can still remember running up the ramps from Gate C (general admission) hoping to get a good seat. Ticket prices were much, much cheaper then, but we almost always sat in the outfield seats. Like many kids, I went to the game with my dad, and it was an incredible bonding experience between us. My dad wasn’t much of a talker, but one thing we could always talk about was baseball. We went most Sundays when the Pirates were in town once school was out, and every Labor Day doubleheader was bittersweet knowing school was just around the corner.

I reveled in the glorious season of 1978, when the Pirates came oh so close to catching the Phillies, and then the wonderful payoff in 1979 when we won it all. I still have my ticket stub from the 4^th game of that series that we lost 9-6 after leading it 6-3 going into the top of the 8^th. Even though it’s now over 28 years ago, I still remember the absolute joy that surged through me when Omar Moreno caught the last out from Pat Kelly. The heartbreak of 1992, 1972, the disbelief of 1997, and all the seasons in between dance in my brain every year as spring appears.

Even with 15 straight losing seasons, I still feel the excitement of each new season. It is the one place that you can come home to again, and the invitation is open each and every year. It’s the time dreams come to life, it is immortality in a way. Another chapter will be written, and even if we think we know the outcome, it isn’t actually certain, and we can’t peek at the last few pages to see how it all turns out, each page must turn on its own time.

Play Ball!