Welcome to my blog on the Pittsburgh Pirates baseball club. If you are like me, you are spending this sorry season in a state of frustration as the team I have followed for more than 35 years plods toward a 14th consecutive losing campaign, ending any glimmer of hope early with a pitiful start that has, as of this writing, found them on the losing end of 27 of their first 38 contests. I guess if I were to view the 2006 Pirates' season in a favorable light, I would say that they have freed us of the burden of caring about their games at the earliest possible date. Maybe they wanted us all to catch up on our reading this summer.
It was not always thus. The Pittsburgh Pirates have been a Major League Baseball team so named since 1891. Despite a record of 55-80 that year, they finished the nineteenth century a cumulative 16 games over .500, albeit without a pennant to their credit. By the end of 1979, when they last reigned as the kings of baseball, they had won nine pennants and five World Series championships. During the 1970s, they were surely on the short list of best teams of the decade. In addition to the '79 triumph, they scored a world championship in 1971. They posted only one losing season (1973) during the '70s, and won their division six times. In 1977, they won 96 games, but came in second to a Philadelphia Phillies team -- outstanding in its own right -- that won an even more impressive 101 games. In 1978, they took their season to the next-to-last day, but fell just short -- again to Philadelphia.
Watching baseball in Pittsburgh during the '70s was a vibrant experience. True, they played in a cement bowl, the late and unlamented Three Rivers Stadium, that failed to provide a suitable backdrop for the great baseball being played on the field. But what baseball it was. The Pirates fielded consistently outstanding offensive teams that included future Hall of Famers Roberto Clemente and Willie Stargell, as well as a host of other fine players from Manny Sanguillen to Rennie Stennett to Richie Hebner to Bill Madlock to Dave Parker (who, in my opinion, should be in the HOF) to Al Oliver (maybe the least-known guy with more than 2,700 career hits that anybody could name) to Phil Garner...the list goes on and on. These teams had guys who could hit no matter where the pitch was. The Pirates of those days went to the plate
hacking.
Pitching? Well, it was overlooked, to say the least. Over the decade of the '70s, the pitching staff ranked no lower than fifth (among 12 teams) in team ERA in eight of the 10 years. The other two years ('73 and '74), they ranked seventh. There were no HOF'ers, but there were some fine pitchers, both starters and relievers, such as Steve Blass, Dave Guisti, Bruce Kison, Bert Blyleven (who should be in the Hall), Dock Ellis, John Candelaria, Kent Tekulve and Jerry Reuss, just to name a few. Pirate pitchers didn't win 20 games, but lots of them won 10 to 15 games, and they all knew their roles. Candelaria, who pitched a no-hitter, was not above coming in to relieve when the situation called for it. Reuss, who pitched five seasons with the Pirates, topped out at 18 wins in one year, but won 220 over the course of a 22-year career. The team found guys who could work.
The team had a reputation as a heavy-hitting, slow-footed lot, and that reputation was earned in the first half of the decade. However, by 1976, with the arrival and development of shortstop Frank Taveras, Stennett and Parker, they had transformed themselves into a speeed
and power team, and in '77 and '78, led by newcomer Omar Moreno, they led the league in stolen bases. In '79 they finished second. This combination of fat bats and fleet feet has rarely been seen since.
They were underappreciated, in part because they played in a town that rarely attracted media attention and that also just happened to have a love affair with another pretty good sports team, the Pittsburgh Steelers, who did nothing more than win four Super Bowls during the same decade. Although they were a colorful team (both in their style of play and in their racial diversity), there were few headline grabbers among them. They preferred to play the game hard and cleanly, much like the residents of the community they represented.
The '70s came to an end, and with it, much of the success of the PittsburghPirates franchise. This particular blog won't be about politics (much), but I'll tip my hand on my leanings and say that I knew that the '80s were going to be rough when the defending champs crashed to end the decade's inaugural season and shortly thereafter Ronald Reagan was elected president. There were glimmerings of hope in '83 and '84, but the team collapsed with a 104-loss season in '85, before beginning a slow ascent during the second half of the decade. Interestingly enough, the rise began with the entry to the Majors of a promising young talent named Barry Bonds.
Then there was the final burst, a three-year stretch of NL East division titles from 1990 to 1992. Bonds emerged as a quality player (sandwiching MVPs in '90 and '92 around a near miss in '91), Bobby Bonilla arrived from Chicago and put up some great numbers, and Andy Van Slyke reversed years of disappointment in St. Louis by emerging as a star defensive outfielder, dangerous offensive force and team leader with the Pirates. The team stole Doug Drabek in a trade with the White Sox (he won 92 games between '87 and '92), and despite no pitcher winning more than 15 games in 1992, they stood on the doorstep of a pennant in a seventh game in Atlanta. Drabek pitched eight shutout innings, the Pirates led 2-0 going into the bottom of the ninth, and then it all fell apart. The game ended when a non-entity named Francisco Cabrera singled to left field, scoring Sid Bream (a former Pirate, in a cruel irony) ahead of a throw from Barry Bonds. For all intents and purposes, the competitiveness of the Pirate franchise ended when Bonds' throw went a tad up the first base line and the notoriously slow Bream slid in a fraction ahead of Mike Lavalliere's tag. Bonds and Drabek left to free agency the following year (Bonilla had departed the year prior), and the current streak of losing seasons began.
What has been unusual about those 14 years has been the almost total absence of real hope that the franchise will turn around. The longer the frustration has gone on, the more curious I have become about the inability of those in charge of generating a turnaround. Oh, sure, we have the usual platitudes about a small-market team with a small payroll. I won't waste time with the argument other than to point out that the same was said about, for example, Minnesota and Oakland, to name two of the most obvious examples about whom the same pronouncement was made. Both have won several division championships since being pronounced dead by conventional wisdom.
The Pirates now occupy the netherland space of baseball team along with the once-proud Kansas City Royals. In other eras ('60s, '70s and '80s) this downtrodden status was best exemplified by the Cleveland Indians. Like the Pirates, these are and were teams who generate no interest among nonfans and no hope among those who follow them. The ineptitude of the team during this stretch of lost years can be measured by the fact that its "dream season" was 1997, a year in which they posted a mediocre 79 wins, yet stayed in contention into September because of a particularly weak division. The "best" pitcher on the staff, Francisco Cordova, totaled 11 wins (although he did combine with Ricardo Rincon on a no-hitter without getting the win). Their "best" hitter was Kevin Young, a first baseman who slammed 18 homers and drove in 74 runs, in other words, what would turn out to be about a half-season's worth of work for the departed Barry Bonds. Other than that "dream" season between '93 and '06? Not much a desperate fan can cling to, the occasional Brian Giles, Jason Bay and Zach Duke not withstanding.
The current team, which I will comment on in coming blogs, is so bad as to nearly defy description, and because of the team's penchant in recent years for signing over-the-hill "talent," is also nearly devoid of hope. My hope, on the other hand, is to find from readers of my musings here a reason to care and memories that have compelled them to stick with this once-proud team.
Takers?