I suppose we adults shouldn't be surprised that like most institutions and businesses, the Pittsburgh Pirates' and Penguins' first priority is survival, and that winning championships is a lower priority.
But the emotional bonds we make with these teams and their players over the years -- the teams are quick to market them as "your" Pirates, Penguins or Steelers -- make them more than just another business to us. We want all the fun of seeing them play well and get to the top.
What got me thinking about all this was the current sad state of affairs in Pittsburgh major league sports. It's not that these teams don't win championships that bothers me. God knows that Pirates, Steelers and Penguins fans have learned over the years that teams with losing records were more than a small part of pro sports. Nobody expects a winner every year.
What bothers me is that two of the three teams don't even have winning championships on their agendas. The Steelers, at least, are still trying, though the release of Kordell Stewart doesn't reflect his ample skill but is a salary dump, like the Pens' Kovalev trade.
Back around 1960, the Pirates were bringing guys in as the final pieces of the puzzle that might take them to the top. Don "the Tiger" Hoak, Smoky Burgess and Harvey Haddix were those pieces. It was a time of optimism and fun, when management made winning a championship a top priority. The entire Tri-State area was alive with "Beat 'em Bucs" in their heads, on their lips and over the airwaves.
And the result is that with Groat, Clemente, Mazeroski, Law, Stuart, Face, Skinner, Virdon and others, the Pirates won the '60 World Series, though vast underdogs to the mighty Mantle-Maris-led Yankees.
My grandfather bought me an ashtray with a newspaper story of the final game embossed on it -- it still holds odds and ends on my dresser. And I still have the fielder's glove I used in the '50s with Don Hoak's signature burned into the leather; in my neighborhood, boys played ball all the time -- baseball, basketball, football, etc.
But the Pirates haven't been the same since Barry Bonds and others left here around the mid-'90s and team management made it clear that winning championships was an afterthought, though local forces and a new ownership were able to squeeze a beautiful ballpark out of the local populace, and another one for the Steelers.
And there was the Steel Curtain of the '70s, with four Super Bowl championships led by Mean Joe, Lambert, Bradshaw, Swanny, Chuck Noll, Franco with his Italian Army and Roy Gerela and his Gorillas.
And it wasn't even that long ago that the Pens were making clincher deals that led to their two championships. They brought in Joey Mullen, and finally Ron Francis and Ulf Samuelsson in '91, who proved to be the last big building blocks in the Lemieux-Jagr-led Penguins' drive to two Stanley Cups. We cheered those NHL champions at rallies in Point State Park.
One of the latest blows, after Francis, Jaromir Jagr, Darius Kasparaitis, Robert Lang and others had been given their walking papers, was the Penguins' trade of superstar Alexei Kovalev and three lesser lights to the New York Rangers for, roughly, four guys named Moe (and cash). Pens front-office honcho Craig Patrick inexplicably added insult to that injury by selling it as not a salary dump but a method of improving the Pens' chances to make the playoffs. Mario, you got any of that ubiquitous duct tape for Craig's mouth?
It's not that the Kevin Youngs and the Ian Morans aren't trying to win. These are professional athletes who have pride; and if it even crossed their minds to give less than all they have every game, they should, and maybe would, be shipped down or out. And if you pay to see them at PNC Park or Mellon Arena, it can still be enjoyable, particularly if you get a ball cap or a bobblehead doll in the bargain. But if Barry Bonds, perhaps the best baseball player ever, were still here, I'd go to PNC Park more often.
Yet, the managements are now so dominated by money -- getting it, keeping some, paying it out and having enough to make ends meet in a rough pro sports environment -- that winning championships isn't even an option. And then they wonder why Pirates and Penguins attendance has dropped. Why don't the fans like us? Where is the fans' civic pride? How about: Where is their pride in fielding competitive teams?
Sadly, there appears to be no end in sight to this "get rid of the good players because we can't pay them" mentality. And perhaps that makes the fans think some unwritten social pact has been violated -- the one that says we'll come to see the games if you try hard to field the best teams. We'd hate to see the teams leave town. But what do we fans really lose now if they do?
Paul Simon asked in song: "Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you."
I feel that a little, but it's not because Joltin' Joe has left and gone away, a hero retired, an era of heroes ended. He's still around. He's just gone to the rich teams, and is no longer here. Bonds, Jagr and other superlative athletes, our Joe DiMaggios in a way, are still wowing us from afar.
But team owners have devalued the idea of fielding a team that has at least an outside chance of competing for a championship. Call it structural problems in baseball and hockey. Call it greed by the team owners and the players, or shortsightedness and cowardice in the leagues' offices.
But for me, the fan in the stands sporadically and in front of the TV a lot, you can call it nothing like when fiery third baseman the Tiger, "12-perfect-innings" lefty starter Harvey and pinch-hitting fool Smoky the catcher and their teammates were thrilling us, with the Gunner talking, talking, talking about it.
Lest nostalgia over such teams as the world champion Pirates "Fam-a-lee" of '79 debilitate me completely, I suppose I should say: Here we go, Steelers, here we go! They at least are making a reasonable attempt to win it all.
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