Finally.....

It has finally happened! After 20 long losing seasons the Pirates have accomplished a winning season!

I have been a Pirates fan my whole life: born during the grace and glory of Clemente; weaned on the “Lumber Company;” and survived adolescence thanks to “We Are Family!” No other baseball cap have I worn. To no other team have I offered my allegiance. Forget jumping on the bandwagon, I’m taking my turn driving the bus of the Bucco die-hards, the loyalists, the fans who stayed and stuck through it all.

Some say being a Pirates fan takes courage or craziness. Some say being a Pirates fan is a true exercise in hopeful living. Some say being a Pirates fan is easier when they win.

I say being a Pirates fan is an act of faith. The last time the Pirates won, I was newly ordained and serving my first church. At congregational suppers the conversation was not about the finer points of theology, it was about Jay Bell’s perfectly placed sacrifice bunt. During youth group meetings, the excitement wasn’t around “New Kids on the Block” it was about the Pirates starting nine. Many clergy say they hate to talk about money with their congregants. I refused to mention the names Belinda, Cabrera, Bonds, Bream and the heartbreak of Game Seven in the 1992 NLCS.

Faith and fan-dom go hand-in-hand. I have never prayed for a win. I have, however, worn the same Pirates shirt every day of a winning streak, eaten at the same restaurant prior to each home game, and currently have a commemorative 1971 World Series Championship mug placed on the shelf beneath my television set.

These last twenty years have at times been so full of futility and regret that a certain amount of ritual has been required. I attended the final game at Three Rivers Stadium and before leaving the park removed my shoes and walked barefoot. It is family law that we never leave any game until the final out. This adherence has increased my endurance. A few years ago I sat through the 20-0 loss to the Brewers while fans around yelled for the opposition to “hit blackjack!” In the first-half magic of the 2011 season, I caught a Pirate Parrot-launched hot dog and kept it in my freezer as, sadly, the magic and the wiener frosted.

I am a sports fan, yet, of all matters of athletic contests my favorite is baseball. It’s the perfect sport for a member of the cloth because the focus is to get home safely. Baseball is a family affair. I remember my sister writing mini-signs like “Deck the Cards!” and posting them on the fridge. I took my nephew to his first Pirates game and upon seeing the park he asked, “Is this the field with dreams in it?” You better believe it is --- dreams and disappointments and hopes and heartbreak...an ongoing metaphor for life.

I find the journey made easier by having a faith that is open, trusting and present like an afternoon spent at the ballyard. Perhaps the best life lesson I have learned is “don’t cling;” keep open to possibility, don’t grip the bat too tightly, trust. For the last twenty years, Pirates fans from Forbes Field to Three Rivers have clung to the memories of glories past. The current generation has never known a winning season. All that has changed with this season of who-could-have-foreseen-it stellar pitching from Liriano and Locke, the shark tank bullpen that refuses to allow any circling of the bases, and the a next-man-up team philosophy that delivers the needed start and the timely hit.

It has happened Pirates fans. Savor this winning season. Plan on playoff baseball. Pardon me while I go light my candle of victory.

sj;