I'm not a Pittsburgh-area native. So when it comes to sports alliances, I often find myself torn between rooting for those players representing my adopted city -- or still cheering for my hometown. (That means I'm an Eagles fan; sorry.)
But when it comes to baseball, my loyalties are clear: I'm a Bucs fan.
And it is, of course, a great year to be a Pirates fan. In honor of the season, I thought I'd research a little into the history of my adopted team -- and share my results. (If you enjoy these factoids and anecdotes, be sure to check out Tales From the Pirates Dugout: A Collection of the Greatest Pirates Stories Ever Told by John McCollister, and
Were You There?: Over 300 Wonderful, Weird, and Wacky Moments from Pittsburgh's Three Rivers Stadium by Stephen Mulligan -- for many more great Pirates stories.)
The first-ever radio broadcast of a Major League Baseball game ... was a Pirates game. On August 5, 1921, 26-year-old Harold Arlin announced the game on KDKA radio, covering Pittsburgh's defeat of Philadelphia by a score of 8-5. (Since there was no such thing as a broadcast booth, Arlin announced the game from a box seat at Forbes Field.)
Said Arlin, years later: "Our broadcast -- back then, at least -- wasn't that big a deal. Our guys at KDKA didn't even think that baseball would last on radio. I did it as a one-shot project." The broadcast led to new fans finding their way to baseball -- and new people coming to Forbes Field. (In 1921, annual attendance for home games broke 700,000 -- an increase of nearly 300,000 from the year before.)
It might be Ray Mueller's good luck. On July 16, 1950, reserve catcher Mueller was in the dugout of Forbes Field when outfielder Ted Beard came to bat. During his four-year career with the Pirates, Beard hit five home runs -- total. Not the most stunning of stats. But on that particular day, Beard hit a fastball from Boston Braves pitcher Bob Hall that cleared the 86-foot-high right field grandstands.
It was the first time in the past fifteen years that the feat had been achieved. But it wasn't the first time Mueller had witnessed such a hit at Forbes Field. After all, Mueller had been a rookie for the Braves 15 years earlier -- when Babe Ruth was in his final year of professional baseball.
It was in Pittsburgh that Ruth hit the final three home runs of his career. One of those homers shot over the 86-foot-high roof of the grandstand -- making Ruth the first player to ever clear the right field stands.
What's in a name? In 1913, a rookie outfielder joined the team: Everitt Little Booe. (The "e" is silent.)
His first trip to the plate in-uniform was at a spring training session. Spring training ballparks weren't known then for their advanced sound systems, so the tradition was for the home plate umpire to shout out each player's name for the fans in the stands.
Our new outfielder trotted out to the batter's box, approaching home plate umpire Bill Klem. First thing the rookie did was announce his last name: "Booe!"
Klem looked at him. "What did you say, kid?"
"Booe!" repeated the rookie. "I said, 'Booe'!"
Agitation grew as a suspicious Klem began threatening Booe with expulsion from the game if he didn't give Klem a straight answer. Finally, manager Fred Clarke and outfielder Max Carey ran over to straighten out the misunderstanding.
The umpire permitted the rookie to bat after all. But before Booe took the plate, Klem had some advice for him: "Kid, if you ever expect to stay in this league, you better change your $#@-ing name."
Scheduling conflicts can be rough. And relief specialist Bruce Kison had a doozy -- his wedding was scheduled for the same day as Game 7 of the 1971 World Series. (To make matters worse, it was an away game in Baltimore; the wedding was being held back in Pittsburgh.)
The Pirates won the game by a score of 4-1. The moment the game was over, Kison and his best man (pitcher Bob Moose) made for Memorial Stadium's parking lot, where a helicopter was waiting to take them to the airport, followed by a trip by private jet. Groom and best man made it only 20 minutes late to the church.
(Thanks would go out years later to Pirates broadcaster Bob Prince, who made the arrangements possible.)
Sometimes, you just need a good ace in the hole. Idaho native Vernon Law was being courted by a variety of team scouts -- including Babe Herman and Herman Welker of the Pirates. With so many other teams in contention for Law, Herman and Welker needed an edge.
When Herman and Welker knocked on the door of Law's parents, they presented a box of candy -- and an incoming telephone call to Mrs. Law from one of the Pirates' minority owners. It was just Bing Crosby, calling to tell Mrs. Law what her son would mean for the Pirates, and promising that the Pirates would provide Vernon with an appropriate atmosphere for a young man (the elder Laws were devout Mormons). Vernon was instantly a lock-in.
"I almost felt guilty pulling that trick on the scouts from the other teams," Welker would say later, grinning broadly. "Almost felt guilty."
(Law would go on to pitch an 18-inning game in 1955. The score had been tied 2-2 to the Milwaukee Braves, and Law continued to pitch two complete games in a single evening. Law was finally relieved in the 19th inning by Bob Friend, and the Bucs ended up winning 4-3.)
Let's leave the last word to humorist Dave Barry, who is something of a Pirates fan himself, as he recounts the 1960 Pirates-Yankees World Series matchup (you can read Barry's whole column here):
School was out for the day, and I was heading home, pushing my bike up a steep hill, listening to my cheapo little radio, my eyes staring vacantly ahead, my mind locked on the game. A delivery truck came by, and the driver stopped and asked if he could listen.
The truck driver turned out to be a rabid Yankee fan. The game was very close, and we stood on opposite sides of my bike for the final two innings, rooting for opposite teams, him chain-smoking Lucky Strike cigarettes, both of us hanging on every word coming out of my tinny little speaker.
And of course if you were around back then and did not live in Russia, you know what happened: God, in a sincere effort to make up for all those fly balls he directed toward me in Little League, had Bill Mazeroski -- Bill Mazeroski! -- hit a home run to win it for the Pirates.
I was insane with joy. The truck driver was devastated. But I will never forget what he said to me. He looked me square in the eye, one baseball fan to another, after a tough but fair fight -- and he said a seriously bad word. Several, in fact. Then he got in his truck and drove away.
That was the best game I ever saw.
-- Post by Ms. B
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