I had to wait 21 years to write this Friday’s note.
With all due respect to Franklin Pierce Adams, “Tinker to Evers to Chance”, are not the saddest of possible words. For Pirate fans, the saddest words are, ‘Where were you when Sid slid?’ There are a number of key life experiences that are tied back to the question of ‘where were you when?’ In the burgh’s sports lore one of those is, ‘where were you when Sid slid?’ a simple question that evokes as much pain as 20 years of futility can hold. Like a giant sponge soaked with losing to the point that it spills over into the river that runs by the ballpark, the Pirates could hold no more losing.
‘Where were you when Sid slid?’ was as much an accusatory statement as a question directed towards the former Pirates left fielder who’s throw up the first base line couldn't get the slowest runner in baseball at the plate in the fall of ‘92. In the early 2000s, I remember seeing a kid in the stands with a huge sign behind Bonds in left field asking this question. Obviously the pain had been passed down to the next generation and the years of losing overflowed reaching the saturation point.
To provide a perspective of the losing streak, here is a picture of my youngest niece the year the losing started. Out of frustration and mostly good nature ribbing, I had placed blame for the ‘curse of the Sid slid’ on Ann. I know it's a lot to put on a child, but the blame had to go somewhere. Year after year I reminder her the Pirates losing record was her fault.
Certainly the losing streak couldn't extend to 21 years. Twenty-one is a sacred number in Pittsburgh. Reserved with reverence for the Great One. So concerned about the streak extending past 20 years, the Clemente family met with the Pirates Manager during spring training of this year to emphasis the importance of ending the streak.
This past summer we visited my family and lucked out to be there for the biggest series of the past two decades as they had a five game set with the Cardinals. We attended the first game with a ruckus crowd and in a position to see the boats navigate the Allegheny, the action on the field and the skyline that stands guard over the park. A man sat next to me with his 4 year old daughter and he was very excited because they had driven in from Coraopolis – a town about an hour away and this was her first game. After helping to take a picture of them I said, “We drove 1200 miles to come to this game!”. He said, "No way". I reached back to my wallet, pulled out my Texas drivers license showing him. “That is so cool! Wow” he said in disbelief. I left out the bit about also visiting the family since that may have subtracted from the perception of driving for just the game. Sitting in the all you can eat section made celebrating the first of four consecutive wins against the redbirds all that more sweet.
As this summer went on the team guaranteed itself a winning record, but came up short of winning the division as St Louis got September hot. The Pirates were able to capture home field for the one game wild card playoff against the Reds. It brought back memories since I had attended the NLCS clinching game in ’79 against the same Reds. That era of the ‘We are Family’ team with Pops and his windmill windup. I could do a great imitation of that batting tradition with a wiffleball bat. The Pirates and Red franchises are rather familiar with each other. After all, these two teams have been playing against each other since 1882.
They turned the Clemente bridge into a footbridge at the start of the wild card game day and the city basically had an unofficial build up party leading to the game. People found excuses to attend the game or even just to be around the event. One parent sent an excuse to school pulling their first grader out early and the note read, “Brandon has Bucco fever, we have an appointment with Dr McCutchen". For the wild care game, the stands were packed an hour before the first pitch and the noise was so loud during the Red’s batting practice they couldn't hear each other down on the field. Everyone knew this wasn't normal. This wasn't a typically day or night. A call had gone out for everyone to wear black and bring their Jolly Rogers (skull and cross bones flag). As the game got off to a fast start with a deep Pirate home run – the play by play analyst commented, ‘Now I know what 20 years of frustration looks like dressed in black.’ The noise simply didn’t stop for nine innings, just sometimes it got louder.
The irony of TBS being the network to televise the Pirates return to winning playoff baseball was a beautiful thing.
Grilli released the last fastball, the Jolly Roger was hoisted on the center field flagpole and fireworks lit up the Clemente bridge.
I then sent a simple text to Ann who is now a senior in college, ‘U Rrrrrrrrrr off the hook’.
The reply
“Finally!”
Well the Division Series certainly didn't go as desired, but for that one night on the north shore of the Allegheny, that one night all was right. "How can you not be romantic about baseball?" Billy Beane (Brad Pitt) Moneyball
