OnlyBucs

I had just turned 13 and we lived in the region. BigWeenie took me to Game 3. I was bummed. I wanted to go to that first night game, but MaWeenie would have none of it. Big was a wise man. He knew where his bread was buttered. Given his chioice betwen taking me or taking Ma, Ma wins hands down every time.



Just like...the baseball gods know, given a choice between the Bucs and the dirty O's, pick the Bucs each and every time!



Kids these days. Do any of them even know what a transistor radio...or, any radio is anymore? We're well past our primes....and, it's not like my prime was all that good to begin with. ((((



At least I got to see two World Series, and was alive for three. So, at least I have that much going for me.

If you don't fall in love with the game growing up, I don't believe you will...at least not at the level we're talking about.



My first hero was my Dad. My second was Bobby Robertson, who Dad took me to meet at a local sporting goods store where he was working in the off season prior to his major league debut.



During the last week at Forbes, Dad took me to a game in which Robertson had two doubles and a triple. Prior to the game, Dad called Bobby over and they arranged for us to meet after the game.



The location was used for "stars" to get out of the locker room without having to deal with autograph hunters. It was on the third base side and seemed like a laundry drop...or some service entrance. Clemente and Stargell came out before Robertson. A few were there to get signatures and those two obliged.



Prior to 1971, the Orioles had bragging rights in my neighborhood. They had won it all in '66, lost to the Mets in '69, and won it again in '70. 1971 could not have arrived at a better time.



Sidebar: One of my friends attended the 66 series in Baltimore and ran into an interesting pair of Dodgers fans at the concession stand. Frank Sinatra and Jim Nabors. They were in a bad mood, but gracious enough to sign his program.

I've still not forgiven the O's for choking against the Mets. At the age of 11, I had to pay up on $200 worth of bets. Unlike others on here who will go nameless, I knew better than to welch. I was smart enough to know back then that at least one of those guys I lost to would tell Big if I didn't pay what I owed them.



Do you know how many papers I had to deliver and how many lawns I had to cut to make $200 in 1969 and 70?



Many. ((



I lost on the Ali Frazier fight, too. I didn't care about political stances. I cared that the guy cost me $200.

032A253037013D212825372C440 wrote: If you don't fall in love with the game growing up, I don't believe you will...at least not at the level we're talking about.



My first hero was my Dad.  My second was Bobby Robertson, who Dad took me to meet at a local sporting goods store where he was working in the off season prior to his major league debut.



During the last week at Forbes, Dad took me to a game in which Robertson had two doubles and a triple.  Prior to the game, Dad called Bobby over and they arranged for us to meet after the game.



The location was used for "stars" to get out of the locker room without having to deal with autograph hunters.  It was on the third base side and seemed like a laundry drop...or some service entrance.  Clemente and Stargell came out before Robertson.  A few were there to get signatures and those two obliged.



Prior to 1971, the Orioles had bragging rights in my neighborhood.  They had won it all in '66, lost to the Mets in '69, and won it again in '70.  1971 could not have arrived at a better time.



Sidebar:  One of my friends attended the 66 series in Baltimore and ran into an interesting pair of Dodgers fans at the concession stand.  Frank Sinatra and Jim Nabors.  They were in a bad mood, but gracious enough to sign his program.


That is a wonderful statement. Like you, my dad was my hero as a kid and even into adulthood. As a kid, he took me to Pirate games at FF. To Steeler games at FF as well. We went to Pitt football games and walked up cardiac hill more than once. We worked together in our small town as independent insurance agents. He worked 6 days a week, from morning through evening. My dad though was taken from us at age 68 when he had a major stroke. He lived in a nursing home until he was 83. Yep, dad was a hero and he was the one who introduced me to Roberto and his legend. I just wish he was still around now. What good times we had together.

You're so right, Possum.  Big took me to my first game because my nextdoor neighbor friend and I begged our dads to take us to FF for Photo Day.  Against the Astros (Joe Morgan, Dennis Meinke, one of the Boyer brothers, Rusty Staub, etc.)  Of course, we had my favorites as a kid- Donn Clendenon, Willie, Roberto, Maz, Pags, Gene, etc.)  One of the reasons I've stayted in touch with the Stros over the years.  Willie hit a blast that's still orbiting the earth.



Of course, we sat between first and right so that I could see my two favorite players.



Biggest disappointment?  Photo Day.  You have to remember- I was a kid.  I'm listening to The Gunner for a week pimping that Photo Day however many times a game for a week.  Im thinking 8 1/2 x 11 glossies of each guy.  What we got was something that could fit inside a Cracker Jack box (exxagerration to make the point.) with photos of each player so small you need a magnifying glass to see who they were.  I was bummed.



Big played for Pitt in his time, so you can bet that I was forced to go to those games, too.  I remember losing to Gary Beban and UCLA 63-7.....Ted Kwalic and Penn State by a lesser astronomical number....and, Larry Csonka and Syracuse.  As bad as our Bucs are, theyy're world champions compared to THAT era of Pitt "football." Only game we won? Against William & Mary, FCOL.  And, you wonder why I hate losing. 

That is a wonderful statement.  Like you, my dad was my hero as a kid and even into adulthood.  As a kid, he took me to Pirate games at FF.  To Steeler games at FF as well.  We went to Pitt football games and walked up cardiac hill more than once.  We worked together in our small town as independent insurance agents.  He worked 6 days a week, from morning through evening.  My dad though was taken from us at age 68 when he had a major stroke.  He lived in a nursing home until he was 83.  Yep, dad was a hero and he was the one who introduced me to Roberto and his legend.  I just wish he was still around now.  What good times we had together.


I'm not sure how baseball survives without the loyalty imparted from father figures. Like a proper childhood, it takes deliberate nurturing to blossom. While we bemoan the putzing around that drags the length of games well past three hours, without some basic love, a contest of under three hours will still seem boring to most of the next generation.



When we got home from a game, I would pour over the scorecard for days, and not only the scoring system my Dad was in the midst of teaching me. I can still remember the Kenny Ross ad on the scoresheet from 1966: "Aunt Penny says You Get Plenty From Kenny."



Those days, I was pretty much interested in anything Dad was interested in. History. Baseball. Coin collecting. Trains. He seemed intent on getting me to see players, and meet them whenever possible.



These days, there is so much competition for attention. Baseball has veered from its pedestal of combining athleticism with thought and consideration. Nothing against perogies, but fans like my Dad likely would have been puzzled by the performance, the interest, and the diversion from who was coming up next.

755C534641774B575E53415A320 wrote:   That is a wonderful statement.  Like you, my dad was my hero as a kid and even into adulthood.  As a kid, he took me to Pirate games at FF.  To Steeler games at FF as well.  We went to Pitt football games and walked up cardiac hill more than once.  We worked together in our small town as independent insurance agents.  He worked 6 days a week, from morning through evening.  My dad though was taken from us at age 68 when he had a major stroke.  He lived in a nursing home until he was 83.  Yep, dad was a hero and he was the one who introduced me to Roberto and his legend.  I just wish he was still around now.  What good times we had together.


I'm not sure how baseball survives without the loyalty imparted from father figures.  Like a proper childhood, it takes deliberate nurturing to blossom.  While we bemoan the putzing around that drags the length of games well past three hours, without some basic love, a contest of under three hours will still seem boring to most of the next generation.



When we got home from a game, I would pour over the scorecard for days, and not only the scoring system my Dad was in the midst of teaching me.  I can still remember the Kenny Ross ad on the scoresheet from 1966:  "Aunt Penny says You Get Plenty From Kenny."



Those days, I was pretty much interested in anything Dad was interested in.  History.  Baseball.  Coin collecting.  Trains.  He seemed intent on getting me to see players, and meet them whenever possible.   



These days, there is so much competition for attention.  Baseball has veered from its pedestal of combining athleticism with thought and consideration.  Nothing against perogies, but fans like my Dad likely would have been puzzled by the performance, the interest, and the diversion from who was coming up next. 






I think any activity or game or hobby just has to jibe with a kids personality. You took on your dad's loves, and you loved them too. IDK if you have siblings. Not every sibling will find that love and joy in what dad does, for what ever reason. My kid doesn't have that ingrained love of the game, he just enjoys being at the ballpark. Rarely does he even pay attention to the game unless he has a favorite player coming to bat.



And I didn't get it from my dad. IDK how I came to love baseball, but I did. I came to love the Pirates because of my mom. My older brother was a much better player than me, but he really didn't care much for the game. My younger brother was the best of all three, but he pretty much only liked playing it, he was never one to sit and watch the game. Three brothers, three different attitudes about the game.



I love your comment about "without some basic love, a contest of under three hours will still seem boring to most of the next generation." I honestly agree with that, however, I still think a lot of kids were in baseball like my older brother simply because he had two other brothers that liked playing, and he was kind of forced to go along. I think with so many more diversions and so many more two car families (we only had one for as long as I remember) you don't even get kids like my brother on the field to even have a chance of seeing if they like the game or not. I think baseball is a game you have to play at some level to truly understand how uniquely hard it is, and how other sports though difficult also, appeal to someone more athletic because you don't have to know the game as well at lower levels, your athleticism makes up for it. No matter how good of an athlete you are, if you can't catch the ball or hit it, it doesn't matter how fast or strong you are. I think that's where the love of baseball begins, that connection that anyone can be good at baseball if they can do at least one thing.

I would add one more thing to my enjoyment of the game and being a Pirates fan as a kid. It was the "Gunner", the homer of the homerest play-by-play announcers. The way he talked to the radio fans and made them feel like they were part of the crowd at the game.

Talking about the scorecard and keeping score I did that for just about any game I went to up until 2018. I fact I even had an app on my phone that I took to the games for a few years so I could keep score on it. Yep, those were the days. It is so sad that dads and granddads don't take the time to teach kids and grandkids that stuff anymore.

4F6E664F646C0B0 wrote: I would add one more thing to my enjoyment of the game and being a Pirates fan as a kid.  It was the "Gunner", the homer of the homerest play-by-play announcers.  The way he talked to the radio fans and made them feel like they were part of the crowd at the game. 

Talking about the scorecard and keeping score I did that for just about any game I went to up until 2018.  I fact I even had an app on my phone that I took to the games for a few years so I could keep score on it.  Yep, those were the days. It is so sad that dads and granddads don't take the time to teach kids and grandkids that stuff anymore.


this is so true. I rarely missed a game on the radio, except for west coast games that I couldn't stay awake to the end. Prince and company made it easy to imagine you were seeing the game rather than listening.