Jul 22, 2011 4 min read

Nothing could free me of my obsession with national politics like a good old fashioned pennant run.

So what if the entire U.S. government might go belly up – those young fellows operating out of PNC Park keep getting us to “raise the Jolly Roger” with increasing frequency.

For the first time in years, the Pittsburgh Pirates aren’t just “that other team in Pittsburgh.” They’re something special.

They’re even showing signs that maybe they’re going to be playing games that matter – after their next door neighbors start their defense of their AFC Championship.

It’s not hard getting to feel this way. I’ve had practice.

In 1960, when those perennially hapless Steelers were “that other team in Pittsburgh,” I remember the exact moment Bill Mazeroski hit the most dramatic homerun in Major League history.

They’d dismissed classes early at Lafayette Junior High School, and placed televisions  on the basketball court so the student body could witness that seventh game.

All I can remember is being pulled to my feet by the rush of adrenaline that, medical scientists will tell you, comes naturally when your team wins a World Championship with a walk-off homer.

It’d been 35 long years since the Pirates were World Champions.

None of my fellow cheering schoolmates had even been born in 1925. Still, we somehow knew (and at the very least felt) the importance of that moment.

This season, it’s been 32 years since the Pirates were crowned champions.

Whenever I watch the games on TV, I’m struck by the kids who’re as keenly aware of the importance of every pitch as I was back in 1960.

It’s a great sight. In previous years, when the cameras focused on the fans at PNC Park, the younger ones appeared to be captives who’d been given a mandatory sentence to share the misplaced dreams of their parents.

They’re no longer bored. They’re anticipating the next exciting development, in a season that, so far, has provided lots of them.

It’s still too soon to determine if there’ll be roving armies of boys and girls harboring hopes of becoming major leaguers.

One half of one winning season might not be enough of an incentive to make a career in baseball, worthy of replacing a life’s goal of being, say, a professional wrestler.

But if the Pirates make the play-offs – look out!

There might be windows all over Western Pennsylvania in jeopardy of destruction by errant foul balls. Wouldn’t that be nice?

I remember when I not only wanted to be like Roberto Clemente, I wanted to be Roberto Clemente.

I’d go to bed hoping when I woke up, I’d be out there in right at Forbes Field. That Willie Mays would be thinking he could stretch out that base hit; he’d be rounding first; and I’d let fly with a perfect strike to Mazeroski.

In case you wondered, that never happened.

Once I discovered I had neither the arm, nor the batting skills of Mr. Clemente, I cross-trained my aspirations.

I became a pitcher.

I was relief pitcher in hundreds of World Series games, getting the call each time, with the bases loaded, two outs in the ninth inning of game seven – if only in my backyard.

Marshall Monuments had a plant on Main Street that bordered our property. Their rear wall was my batter’s box.

I’d wind up, and try to make the perfect (rubber ball) pitch.

Pitching, I thought, was my true calling.

It wasn’t.

My parents did all the “calling” at my house. And they ordered me to stop throwing that ball against that wall.

Sometimes parents just don’t understand future Cy Young winners.

But while they dashed my pitching aspirations, they couldn’t prevent the Pirates from being my inspiration. That’s because they were inspired by the Pirates too.

Some of favorite family memories were when we shared a televised Pirate baseball game, or one at Forbes Field.

And I’m sure there are lasting family memories being forged this season every time you hear the words – “Raise the jolly Roger.”

 

Edward A. Owens is a three-time Emmy Award winner and 20- year veteran of television news. E-mail him at freedoms@bellatlantic.net