A Real Fan's Case for Baseball

Why on Earth would I put an Humberto Cota photo on my article, you ask?

Well, the reasoning is quite simple really. Cota, who has only a handful of hits in his career, authored a memory for me that I'll never forget. The perfect ending to my first-ever baseball game.

It may surprise a lot of people to know that I wasn't a sports fan growing up. How I became one is an interesting story for another day. Suffice to say that football games from the marching band perspective become quite boring when you have no idea what's going on.

A 13-3 season later, I was a rabid (and I really do mean rabid) Steelers fan.

Baseball came not long after. It was Roger Clemens'—still my favorite player—chase for 300 victories that started it. I caught wind of it while I was waiting for the NFL news on ESPN one summer morning and decided that it sounded interesting enough to spend a few minutes watching later on.

Clemens didn't win that game, but the quest hooked me. I started watching every televised game he pitched. I remember watching when he got number 300. 

It was then that I realized that I liked the sport, too. Didn't Pittsburgh have a team like the Yankees? Of course! 

So, I dropped a few channels to tune into FSN to catch some of a Pirates game.  Whether they won or lost is a fact that escapes me. I remember that Mike Williams pitched at the end, so they probably won.

Like many others before and since, I was enchanted by the smoothness of the game, the relaxed pace, and the atmosphere. Nothing can quite compare to a baseball game, viewed live, from a couple of seats 20 or so rows up from first base.

I remember that night, too. Jul. 8, 2005. My dad, the sports authority in my house until I rose up and became a maven, had asked if I wanted to actually go see a game in person. I'd been a baseball fan for a couple of years, so this sounded like a good idea.

So, there I was, sitting those 20 rows from Daryle Ward at first base as Josh Fogg kept the Mets close for awhile but eventually let them get away.  As the game got late, I began wondering if the Pirates would rally.

They did.

With two gone in the ninth, they tied up the game with a smattering of hits.  Jose Mesa checked in for the top of the 10th, setting down the Mets as quickly as they came to bat. 

And then, with Jason Bay on in the bottom half, Cota laced a single into the outfield and Bay came home.

Not a year later, my dad and I sat in nearly identical seats to watch the Pirates take on my then-favorite (Clemens was pitching for them, just not that night) Houston Astros. 

Tie game...for 17 innings.

Then, in the 18th, Bay again came home on a hit, bowling over the catcher.  That would be my favorite moment as a baseball fan at a live game. Nothing can compare to waiting five hours for the home team to win. 

My bobbleheads were stolen that night as I celebrated Bay's run home. Oh well!

I haven't seen a win since, but I've seen a bunch of games.

Eventually, I stopped liking the Astros and became a true Pirates fan. 

But nothing can compare to the original feeling of Clemens' chase (authentic or not) and the great glory of watching those first two epic games.

That's why baseball is so great. I've been to three Steelers games. Now, nothing can compare to my love of the Steelers, but football and hockey games just aren't the same.  Of the two, I'd say hockey is better in person than football. The difference is that I only remember tiny pieces of those games. 

At PNC Park, I remember everything. I've had more than my fair share of good memories at the park. Sometimes, the game on the field matters less than the feeling you get from seeing it.

I think THAT is why baseball is still the national pastime. It won't stop being the national pastime until people stop going to games. When Yankee Stadium and Wrigley and Fenway stop selling out routinely, then I'll start to worry.

Until then, viva la baseball.