82

They say we've been rebuilding since '92. They say tonight ended the long, national nightmare. They said we were a lost cause. 

Maybe. 

But not this year. 

82

An open letter to the Pittsburgh Pirates

To Our Dear Pirates,

Before things get crazy, I just wanted to write a note of thanks for all that you've done over the last few seasons. I know it's been hard to come so close, only to fall short; but I know that it will all be worth it soon enough.

Perhaps I should introduce myself before I say much more. My earliest memories of sports involve sitting on the glider of my grandparents' back porch listening to games on an old transistor radio. I heard stories from my mom and grandfather about the glory days of the 70s. It was quite some time before I knew what baseball looked like, but the sounds of the park have always brought me to a place of fondness.

I was just six years old the last time that you had a winning season. (Lisa Frank. Nirvana. No front teeth. Truly floppy disks.)

My grandfather taught me everything I know about baseball (and how to be a total huckleberry). He taught me that through the ups and downs, you're a fan no matter what. 

He's been gone for more than half of this sub-.500 streak, but he would love this season and this team. Your pluck and your scrappy, by-the-bootstraps outlook would have resonated with that former steelworker.

He would yell and scream and whoop and holler because he knew that you could do better. He carried losses like Atlas; he smiled a little more after wins.

He would heckle batters for swinging on the first pitch and then sit there with a twinkle in his eye and a smile as big as the Allegheny when they knocked the next pitch into the river.

My mom likes to watch me watch games because she sees my grandfather in my reactions. Truth be told, I think he's been watching this season with me, patiently counting to 82 and beyond.

As you look for this pivotal distinction - and end the streak that could have turned old enough to drink itself out of its own misery - my hope is that a city of sports excellence continues to surround you with support. That old fans welcome the new fans just catching the fever and let them know that there's plenty of room for everyone on our ship.

I don't want you to think that you’re carrying the hopes and dreams of two decades of sorrow, frustration, and parody on your shoulders. Instead, know that we’re standing strong with you, ready to support you through each inning.

We’ll scream and shout at our TVs. We’ll tweet and post and hashtag our love to you. We’ll do special loads of wash just to have black and gold to wear to work or class. We'll spout gibberish about Zoltan, beloved sandwiches, shark tanks, and bulls as if it were common English. We'll be those crazy fans who do you proud.

The joy of baseball has seen us through good times and bad. With each trip to Florida for training, hope springs eternal. And when we see that last out or walk-off that gets us to 82, may we know and hope that the best is yet to come.

So, stand up tall, Buccos. This may be the year we pillage the postseason.

Love,

Rachel Moore

Unrepentant, Illogical, Loud, Heartfelt Pirates Fan

P.S. - Z

(Bucs fan? New to baseball? Lost your faith? Feel free to leave a comment to wish the Pirates well or share your memories!)