Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is Rapidly agin’
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand For the times they are a-changin’.
- Bob Dylan
- David Rucker
Confession time – I’m a die-hard Pirates fan. Have been since moving to Pittsburgh in 2000. Stuck it out with ‘em through the bad times and the…bad times.
Our family goes to a lot of games, especially my son and me.
My son is 14. He’s a huge Bucco fan. He grew up cheering for a team that too often amounted to no more than the Bad News Pirates. That makes him a bit “special”; it’s sad, but I don’t think there are many kids in Pittsburgh that have grown up living and dying Pirates baseball. I guess I have to add that it’s also sad the Pirates could not put a product on the field that we could all be proud of, but that’s another story. Saddest of all is that so many dads and sons and daughters have missed sharing time together at the ball park.
I’ve watched J grow up at Pirates’ games. It seems like only yesterday that he would clap and shout (as only a three year old can) “let’s go Bucs” and then immediately turn his attention to the Pirate Parrot, the cotton candy man, or the playground on the River Walk. I didn’t want to miss the baseball, but it was more important that I didn’t miss J running around the bases at the playground.
Later he discovered a million uses for peanut shells. Well maybe not a million, but he spent the better part of two seasons acting out terrific “battles at sea” between the Pirates and Cubs or Reds or whomever the Pirates were playing that day. Holding a peanut shell in each hand, he’d tell me which one was the Pirate ship, and I had to guess which one was going to win. Always picking the Pirates, J would proceed to smash the two shells together until there was only one left – the winner!
The Perogie Race was the highlight of any game unless the Pirates hit a home run in which case the fireworks were most special of all. Of course to attend a Fireworks Night was simply magic. So was the time we caught a home-run ball in the outfield, and even a foul ball along the 3rd base line; these are special stories and the balls are safely tucked away at home.
For several years we would race each other to the car after each game (we often parked along the river and we could run through parks). The first one to touch the car was the winner. J almost always won; I was just thankful to have survived the final sprint.
I remember J “running the bases” after Sunday games, and I remember J being invited to play catch on the PNC field. Last year, at Fan Appreciation Day (the last home game of the season) the PA announcer called-out a seat number – it was one of ours, J won the game jersey of Jared Hughes! Jared spent a lot of time talking with J; just a GREAT guy, helping create more special memories….
I remember J laughing. I laughed too. A lot. How do you measure the importance of a dad and son laughing together? The Pirates didn’t win many games, but we still laughed, ran, hoped for foul balls and ate hot dogs and cotton candy and Cracker Jacks.
The most important thing we did was talk. Walking to the game and back to the car, we talked. We talked during the game when the game wasn’t tense or a Peanut Pirate Ship Battle wasn’t taking place. We talked about a whole lot more than baseball…
And all this from a team that seemed would never win again.
It wasn’t easy being Pirate fans, especially when no one else around us cared. Actually many people mocked. But we talked about that too. How many times I remember walking over the Clemente Bridge after another loss, and J asking me, “Dad, do you think the Pirates will ever be winners?” I would assure him that someday he was going to see something truly special – the Pirates as winners and the stadium full of people celebrating and cheering. I helped him believe something, something I knew to be true, and we would keep believing even as fewer and fewer people believed the story. And I promised – the present “disappointments” will make the promised future all the more worthwhile, all the more special. The promises of the future…
We don’t surrender our convictions, our beliefs, our faith, our future based on what “the world” says or believes or does. We don’t follow the crowd. We don’t surrender “who we are” in order to be like the world or liked by the world. It can be lonely; it can be hard. But some things are more important…
Of course baseball is only baseball. It’s not life and death and we really do keep it in prospective. But baseball and the Pirates, for all their losses, gave us the opportunity to learn a lot about life and making choices. We are learning to seek our own way and not follow the currents of culture; we will seek the truth for ourselves and not accept the latest trendy pronouncements. Most important, we are learning that we will not live simply for the present; ultimately the promises of the future are more important. In the promises of the future we can find great joy and laughter even in the middle of our disappointments.
I’m pretty sure J is learning the real point – if we had followed the world, how much joy would we have missed, how many promises would be lost….
I’m sure he knows I’m not really talking about baseball at all. I hope you know this as well.
Sometimes pictures really are worth a thousand words, maybe ten-thousand. The following picture appeared in the September 24th edition of the P-G. It is a permanent record of the last out recorded in the Pirates verses Cubs game on September 23rd. The Pirates won 2-1. With this win, the Pirates clinched a spot in the 2013 post-season, the first in twenty-one years.
For long suffering Pirate fans this picture captures all the drama of the moment. Players on the ground after a great collision at home plate, Russell Martin holding the ball to the sky, the Cub’s player with head down and the ump making a classic call. But the picture captures something even more poignant – the sheer exhilaration of the moment.
Check the crowd – this is the exact moment excitement turns to disappointment among the Cub’s fans, except right in the center of the page is one Pirate fan who is jumping for the sky. His expression is one of sheer elation! Upon seeing this picture and the Pirate fan, I realized that his elation reflects the emotions felt by me and Pirate fans everywhere at that moment – we aren’t just winners, we’re among the best!
Congratulations to our Pirates and Pirate fans everywhere! What a season!!
“Almost everything strange washes up near Miami. ”
Back in the 80s I moved to Miami to go to school (“Go Canes!”). Miami was unlike any place I had ever lived before; it felt very alien to me for a pretty long time. Even after it became “home” I was still, always, very aware of just how different this new home was compared to my old. I was literally thrust into a new culture, a new world, all surrounded by a totally new ethos (“ethos” is the fundamental beliefs or attitudes that shape or define a person or a culture). I had to deal with this reality in my mind and heart on almost a daily basis.
I actually loved Miami, I still love to visit; but I never fully assimilated. I adapted, and in many ways I was changed; but I didn’t change completely. I retained much of my former self, especially in my ethos. The South Florida culture was, in the end, so very different that I had to make choices about who I am.
Well, maybe I didn’t have to make choices. I guess I could have just become part of culture. I don’t know – is that what most people do?
The reason I ask is because on a much bigger stage, with much greater consequences, “we” have mostly assimilated the incredible changes occurring in our culture, most importantly in our individual and collective ethos.
In my article dated September 6th I highlighted the reality of our rapidly changing culture. The rate of change has caught even social scientist off-guard – “The end of the first decade of the 21st century marks a turning point in the nation’s social, cultural, geographic, racial and ethnic fabric. It’s a shift so profound that it reveals an America that seemed unlikely a mere 20 years ago…. The metamorphosis over just two decades stuns even demographers and social observers.” http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/news/nation/census/2011-08-10-census-20-years-change_n.htm
We don’t just live differently (new technology, etc.). We see and understand the world in entirely new ways; we have different values, different morals, different beliefs. And these changes were, for the most part, seamless – few of us resisted change, few of us even considered what it is that we are “becoming”.
When I was in Miami everyday seemed to be a new experience for me. I was constantly aware of my place in the culture. I made choices about “who I am”. The shift we have experienced in culture over the past few years makes my experiences in Miami seem small indeed. How is it that we, for the most part, have so easily changed, especially our ethos? As I asked on September 6th – did we really make a choice about any of this, or were we simply swept along with the racing currents of culture?
We’re very different today. What have you gained; what have you lost? I fear we have lost much…..