I remember as a kid secreting our big unwieldy plug-in radio under my Lost in Space blanket and listening far past my Petticoat Junction bedtime to Pittsburgh Pirate games when they visited the west coast. On one glorious occasion, my victory whoop when Willie Stargell went “downtown” ( the cool thing to call home runs back in the 60’s-we would even scream-sing that catchy Petula Clark song when we whacked one in wiffle ball) woke the house well after test patterns appeared on an archaic Magnavox legally blind without rabbit ears.
Power-hitting Stargell, 1960 series hero Bill Mazeroski, and the incomparable Roberto Clemente, who would tragically perish flying mercy supplies to his native Puerto Rico, transcended hero status with Pittsburgh area sports fans. Each would be immortalized in statue form by a franchise that was my first love almost a decade before that team called the Steelers rose to the top of that league now more significant than most entire countries.
Back then it was baseball, and anywhere within 50,000 watts of flagship station KDKA, the feverish mantra was “Beat Em’ Bucs!” And the Pirates had a long history of rewarding such incantations. Most memorably, in 1960, when Maz’s walk-off homer at old Forbes Field (the wall still stands) defeated the omnipotent Yankees to thus hammer out THE greatest moment in Pittsburgh history.
A slew of competitive seasons and another World Series title (1979) would follow for the franchise founded just 22 years after the Civil War. But then, perhaps not inexplicably, the Buccos lost their mojo-or at least misplaced their “green weenies” (a Pirate equivalent of the Steeler’s ” terrible towel,” both quirky talismans of good fortune)- as just 11 winning years have followed during five subsequent decades. Even in a sport completely BUILT on hot and cold streaks, to characterize that as a mere slump would be like saying Rip Van Winkle keeps neglecting his chores.
Most blame baseball’s lack of a salary cap. Without that equalizing measure (imposed by both the NFL and NBA), big market teams can roll fat local revenues into obscenely high player contracts and churn out juggernauts in perpetuity. Last year, for instance, the Los Angeles Dodgers team-payroll exceeded $300 million, while the Pirates paid players less than one third that amount. And since you get what you pay for, the perennially powerful Los Angeles franchise has won two of the last three World Series, in 2024 defeating the legendary New York Yankees, another organization unlikely to scrounge much through couch cushions. Contrastingly, our Pirates wound up a full 20 games below 500 last year-and not much better the season before.
Most members of a long-suffering fan-base feel that Bucco futility traces as much to a tight wad owner as to any shortage of revenues. They point to a bottom line that belies futility on the diamond and shows much-maligned Bob Nutting securely in the black. Shouldn’t an owner at least have the good grace to lose money on a team that loses 90 games? No matter HOW pleasing the aesthetics of a steel-built stadium featuring unobstructed views of the iconic “Steel City” itself.
The egalitarian code in owning a sports team places the priority on winning-not profits. Adhering to no such policy-unwritten, or otherwise-the Pirates stubbornly bargain shop for washed up role-players as mere band aids for an anemic lineup . Nobody whose stock has not declined ever signs with Pittsburgh.
Except when required to through the draft. Thus entered flame-throwing pitcher Paul Skenes, as baseball’s number one pick in 2023. Last year’s Cy Young winner will soon be joined on the big team by teen wunderkind Konnor Griffin, a reputed generational talent who hit like Mickey Mantle last season in the Pirate’s farm system.
Since, the way baseball works, Skenes must toil in Nutting’s penurious servitude only through 2029-projections hit high nine-figures for the pact he inevitably signs with some (you guessed it) major-market team-an imperative exists to surround the game’s premier hurler with quality players. Specifically, some hitters that can boost a team batting average that, at 234, ranked a lowly 28th in the league last year. More pointedly betraying their lack of pop, they brought up the rear in home runs. The Buccos need bats like Sesame Street needs the alphabet.
Breaking character, the club this off-season signed a pair of free agents who can bolster that deficiency. Marcel Ozuna will never be mistaken for Reggie Jackson, nor Ryan O’Hearn for Barry Bonds, but the former’s career total of nearly 300 round-trippers, and the latter’s 281 average last season do represent a significant upgrade. Sparking long absent optimism, the $40 million inked over to secure them at least signifies a newfound commitment from ownership-a much-demanded effort to steer back from the abyss.
Sent from Outlook
