Author: Bob Benz

I forgot how much fun it is to sit among a few thousand pissed off yinzers screaming for blood when one of their sports gods has let them down.

I went to see the Pirates play the Padres last night, and I took my brother and his family along for the ride. Despite a torrential rain and bomb threats that closed the Fort Pitt and Squirrel Hill tubes, the game got started about an hour late, at 8 o’clock.

I’m not a big baseball fan, but hell. Beer. Hotdogs. A chance to yell for the home team. I’m there. And all was good till the 9th inning, when the Pirates sent a hapless reliever in to try to seal up a 2-0 victory on the strength of Shawn Chacon’s very strong pitching performance up to that point.

The reliever, Salomon Torres, promptly gave up 2 runs, and the Pirates ultimately lost the game 4-2 in the 11th. The abuse from the fans was astoundingly cool. From the stands around us, they shouted at the umps, the pitchers, the porky Padres right fielder (who heard one of their quips and burst into a wide grin). There are no greater pessimists among sports fans than Pittsburghers. It’s like they were waiting to lose the game for nine innings, and when their prophesy proved self-fulfilling, they still howled in indignation. As we filed out of the stadium, one of the most virulent hecklers just sat dejectedly in his seat, head down, beer empty. My brother patted him on the back in an attempt to console him, but to no avail.

Damn, it was fun. I’m almost glad we lost.