PNC Park: Pittsburgh Pirates Treasure Deserves MLB Playoffs in Its Prime

PNC Park has been argued by many critics as the finest sports venue in North America, bar none. It's too bad that baseball may never get to enjoy it in all of its intended majesty.

Those who have the preconception of Pittsburgh as a grungy, worn-down steel town, comprised of dilapidated factories and spiteful, wrinkled iron workers, must be caught off guard with a visit to PNC Park.

On Sunday, June 10, 2011, I ventured with my family to watch the Pittsburgh Pirates play the New York Mets. Years of trading away key contributors and losing games in the hundreds may wear out the souls of the Bucs faithful, but any enthusiast about the game of baseball, regardless of its economic structure or cloudy past, would enjoy a good old-fashioned time at this gem of a baseball diamond.

The "Yinzers," a term that dubs the purest of Pittsburgh's faithful, park in the city (I recommend the Sixth Street Garage) and follow the band of fans marching toward the Roberto Clemente Bridge. 

It's like an open air pass through the famous Squirrel Hill Tunnels, which numbs passers into apathy, their lone focus being the growing light at the end of the tunnel, before exploding at its open end into the beautiful, colorful Pittsburgh skyline.

The Roberto Clemente Bridge provides a similar ambiance, only in a different manner. As strollers walk across the bridge, which is closed to traffic on game day, they slowly approach the majestic palace of the pitiful Pirates. First-time visitors are unaware they they are already part of the finest view in the majors, as hundreds of fans in the stadium gaze out at the city, watching as spectators arrive from the bridge and river ferries. 

The view from the distant bridge is magnificent, and approaching the grand stadium begins to reveal its finer subtleties. Its limestone facade and mix of classic and retro elements make it a testament to baseball's storied past and an optimistic nod to the fans of many classic years ahead. 

With each new approach, I see the giant "PNC PARK" lettering, screaming proudly from the top of the stadium.  Below it reads "Home of the Pittsburgh Pirates," small black letters, almost whispering as if to keep this a secret.

Losing seasons are what bring the most loyal fans to realize that visits to baseball's finest park conjure dichotomous emotions of pride and despair.

Pride.  It swells in any Pittsburgh native or Pirates fan to take a seat behind the plate or along the baseline, looking out upon a portrait fit to be framed.  From an angle, the Roberto Clemente Bridge appears to pan from inside the stadium (the bridge brings you to the entrance) across to the bold, magnificent Pittsburgh skyline. No matter the weather—overcast, nighttime, sunshine or cold—the view is a breathtaking panorama cast against atmospheric lighting that varies with the day.

Despair.  It is a natural reaction to two consecutive decades of losing baseball. Already 10 seasons old, PNC Park has already been enjoyed for the equivalent of 30 percent of Three Rivers Stadium's lifespan. 

Three Rivers was considered a grand new home for the Steelers and Pirates in 1970, but as time wore on and concepts regarding live sports became more sophisticated and audience-friendly, the "old bowl" weathered and became out-moded. Yet, when marked against the two consecutive decades that the Pirates have been a losing franchise, the lifespan of Three Rivers doesn't feel that long.

Already, a decade of Pittsburgh baseball has been beholden to that fine diamond in the former rough, a city that has transformed itself into a modern sophistication. Only one thing hasn't transformed.

The Pittsburgh Pirates.

Years come and go where their progress is contended amongst the loyal followers and denounced by the natural cynics.  

Consistently, the cynics' perspective proves most realistic. This weekend, as an example, the Pirates entered two games over .500 in June for the first time in as long as I could remember. After a three-game sweep at the recently struggling Cleveland Indians, the Bucs had their act straight again, putting their losing record back intact.

Passing statues of Willie Stargell and Roberto Clemente, I see youngsters posing in their immortal postures, having pictures snapped by fathers—nay, grandfathers—who want to frame the pride of their future with sweet memories of their past. 

I wonder, in the current state of baseball—where in spite of some intermittent spurts by a few small markets, many teams can't (or won't) afford to keep their roster—will these children ever get to witness the success captured by the legends they emulate for "mom, dad, nana, and pappy?"

Sadly, the most compelling atmosphere in Major League Baseball, its postseason, has not crossed its finest establishment, PNC Park.   Can you imagine PNC with.....electricity?

As time goes on, the beautiful park will likely age like fine wine, opposed to its rigidly geometric predecessor. Yet, in these hours of its peak novelty, the height of its beauty is missed by the national media. 

What choice do they have? What product have the Pittsburgh Pirates offered, aside from the All-Star Game, to compel marketers to invest their advertising dollars?  What major network would have the audacity to air a team whose roster has been largely marked by complete nobodies?

People vary on where to place the blame. Who owns the failure of Pittsburgh baseball is another conversation. The true focus is: will the Pirates ever bring a winner to PNC Park and give it the history it will need to be one of baseball's true classics?

All parks have personalities defined by the legends and the legendary. The aesthetic appeal may not be in the same "league" as newer parks, but the Fenway canvas is painted with the rustic strokes of unforgettable memories and traditions. Ted Williams' final at-bat. Calton Fisk's Game 6 home run. The epic comebacks against the Yankees. The World frickin' Series!

For all the gorgeous ivory and the legendary voice of Harry Carey, even the Cubs have had the postseason. And Steve Bartman, otherwise known as Moises Alou's finest scapegoat. Yet, for their futility, the Cubs have been winners in many seasons.

In "optimism town," which is Pittsburgh anytime the Pirates are within two games of .500, it certainly seems as though the Bucs are getting better. Yet, 1997 shows that potential has a short life span for baseball's black n' gold (n' red). For the improvements, the team still has a losing record. Unless things change, they're approaching the completion of two decades without a winning season.

The Cubs went 39 seasons without postseason baseball (1945 to '84), and they had winning seasons. Even to win guarantees nothing beyond the regular season.

Voices of the loyal speak to the aforementioned dichotomy of pride and despair, arguing between loyalty and betrayal. 

"Be patient. It will get better. The day will come."

"You said that in 1995! Remember how long ago Orlando Merced and Jeff King feel?"

In another random city at another random time, PNC's glory days would be heralded. The attention would come from all media circuits. "Baseball Tonight" would air live from the park. Amazing panoramas of the city's beautiful backdrop would glow with extreme luminescence on high definition televisions. 

ESPN would glow about history in the making as the random team with the random market that didn't serve as the random catalyst for the random dispatching of great talent continued to win, building on the rich history of a sports palace. 

Despite the losing, baseball games in Pittsburgh are a wonderful experience. That experience being exponentially multiplied by contention would give PNC Park her proper due as the greatest field to watch a baseball game. Announcers will say, "What a shame that it took 25 years for the Pirates to give the nation baseball in Pittsburgh."

Will PNC Park see competitive baseball, wins in October, at the height of her novelty?

As trips to the ballpark pass, I take new appreciation with each visit of the experience offered. Manny Sanguillen signing autographs for fans outside of his coveted BBQ shack, an illustrious and state-of-the-art scoreboard that keeps out of town scores and situations tracked as well as your Android apps, ferries merrily honking as they stroll down the river, and fireworks nights illuminating an already surreal cityscape have to be experienced to be fully understood.

PNC Park—she's a "beaut!"

In the later innings, the traditional "Pirates Perogie Race" is conducted.  As the mascot munchies make their way around the outfield warning track, it is not a rare occurrence for one of the perogies to fall, stumbling about as it tries to regain its footing.  My most recent trip saw a perogie meeting this fate, rolling on the ground; it ought as well have had a black cap with a bright yellow "P."

As I write this final paragraph, trying to project an uncertain future for the Bucs, the team trails the Orioles 5-0 in the first inning. What can I say? The black-capped perogie of Pittsburgh.

And, ironically, the black-capped perogie of PNC Park.