The 1990 Major League Baseball season started out like every other season I had experienced in my brief career as a super fan.  The Pirates were projected to be average, at best.  Evidently, the offseason signings of such powerhouse stars as Walt Terrell, Ted Power, Don Slaught, and Wally Backman did little to convince the experts that our Buccos could take the next step in their slow development as a National League contender.  On paper, the Pirates were more or less the same team that had disappointed fans a year earlier.   When the Pirates opened up the season by wiping the field with the hated New York Mets as Shea Stadium 12-3, it marked the beginning of a remarkable baseball renaissance in the Steel City.  The roster that the Bucs had been building over the past five years came together all at once, with virtually everyone contributing to the success.  Barry Bonds was beginning to carve out his name among the baseball elite, Bobby Bonilla became a certified masher in the middle of the lineup, Doug Drabek crafted a Cy Young-level season, and unsung heroes were coming up big every single game.  Journeyman pitcher Neal Heaton started the season on a tear, and ended up in the All Star Game for the only time in his 12-year career.  Veteran pitcher Bob Walk was a steady source of leadership and young players such as Jay Bell and Jeff King became household names in the city.  One of the best benches in modern-day baseball history kept the Pirates rolling during the long dogs days of summer.

It was the real life version of the the movie “Major League”.  A team of has-beens and never-will be’s turned the baseball world upside down.  By the time the dust had settled, a team that many had predicted would finish dead last in the N.L. East was celebrating on the sun-drenched green carpet infield of old Busch Stadium in St. Louis, on their way to the first Pirates NLCS appearance since 1979.  The feeling of seeing my players jumping all over each other with Lanny Frattare yelling “The Bucs have won the National League East!” was like nothing I had ever experienced.  I taped the game that day on our family VCR, complete with commercials and KBL (the old Pittsburgh sports channel) adverts.  That video tape would be replayed so many time by me that by the time I reached high school, it was no longer watchable.  My boys had done it, they were heading to the playoffs.

While the 1990 Pirates were contenders from day one, they did need a little bit of help along the way.  In one of the best Pirates mid-season trades of all time, the Bucs sent RP Scott Ruskin (owner of the best curveball I had ever seen at the time), IF Willie Greene, and a player to be named later – yep, Moises Alou – to the Montreal Expos for a grizzled veteran starting pitcher.  That pitcher was Zane Smith, a talented left-handed pitcher with a face that could scare the gills off a trout.  Zane Smith was amazing for the Pirates, but let’s just say that the teenage girls of Pittsburgh weren’t hanging his poster up on their wall next to the New Kids on the Block.  In one of the best single-game pitching performances you will ever see, Smith helped the Pirates sweep the Mets in a doubleheader at Three Rivers Stadium by throwing a one-hit shutout in game one.  The Pirates started that day up a 1/2 game on the Mets in the division, and went home that night up 2 1/2 games, a humbling experience for the Mets – who had always seemed to get the upper hand on the Pirates before that season.  While many fans remember the Bonds, Bonilla, and Drabeks of those early ’90s Pirates teams, I will always remember Zane Smith – the bucktoothed, mullet haired southpaw who led us to the promise land.

Over the next three seasons, Pirates baseball hit its highest level of success in over a decade.  The Bucs won three straight N.L. East titles – one of them in 1991 with me in the stands – and were arguably the best team in baseball from 1990-1992.  Many players came and went over that time span, but it always came back to Andy Van Slyke.  Besides his unbelievable skills in the outfield, Van Slyke had another fantastic offensive season in 1992, hitting .324 and driving in 89 runs.  He finished fourth in the NL MVP voting, and took home his fifth straight Golden Glove and second Silver Slugger award.  Van Slyke was the most popular player in Pittsburgh, and I was his biggest fan.  With all of the star power the Pirates had,. it was easy to overlook the role players who once again were pivotal in the Bucs three-season run.  Players like Cecil Espy, Gary Varsho, Gary Redus, and Lloyd McClendon all had magical moments in the black and gold over their time here and each carved out a cult following.  The Pirates were truly a team for the “every man”, and in a city with more “every men” than most, the team was adored and fans packed Three Rivers Stadium to watch them play.  For me, the entire 1990-1992 run was like a dream.  Although the Pirates were defeated by the “Nasty Boys” Cincinnati Reds in the 1990 NLCS and the upstart Atlanta Braves in the 1991 NLCS, it felt like just a matter of time until this team broke the glass ceiling and won the World Series.

It never happened.

We all remember the name Francisco Cabrera, and we all remember Game 7 of the 1992 NLCS.  It was that game that broke the hearts of millions of fans just like me.  After Sid Bream crossed the plate that night, I broke down to my mother and cried as she consoled me.  I knew it was over, that this was the final chance my team would have at the World Series they so deserved.  I’ll never forget that night, laying in my bed, tears in my eyes, as I finally accepted the reality of what had occurred.  The Pirates were about to embark on some lean years – that we knew for sure.  Barry Bonds and Doug Drabek would be gone this winter, pulled away from Pittsburgh by promises of riches in San Francisco and Houston.  The Bucs had a trio of young players that they would be counting on to keep the team afloat in 1993.  Al Martin, Carlos Garcia, and Kevin Young were supposed to be the future of the Pittsburgh Pirates.  The team would also still have long-time Buccos Jeff King, Jay Bell, Orlando Merced, and of course Andy Van Slyke.  On paper, it seemed like the Pirates may still have a shot at a fourth N.L. East title in 1993 if everything came together just right.

Unfortunately, things didn’t come together.  The pitching staff, decimated by the losses of Doug Drabek and John Smiley, was no longer able to keep the Bucs in games while the younger players figured out the major leagues.  The breakout star of 1992, knuckleballer Tim Wakefield, came crashing back down to Earth in 1993.  Young starters Steve Cooke and Paul Wagner were simply not ready to fill the void left by Drabek and Smiley.  Denny Neagle, acquired in the Smiley trade, was on the verge of becoming a good major league pitcher, but in 1993 he was awful in limited duty.  The bottom fell out on many of the stars of the 1990-1992 run, including catcher Mike LaValliere, who was injured early in the season and never played another game for the Pirates.  It was the end of an era, and looking back I don’t think any of us could have imagined the perils that lay ahead for one of baseballs longest tenured franchises.  The Pittsburgh Pirates were about to embark on a dark journey that would almost take them from the city they had called home for over 100 years.

By the time the 1993 season had ended, the Bucs finished 75-87, and their reign of terror in the National League East was officially over.  For me, the Pirates were a part of my childhood that I could never let go of, no matter how hard I tried.  The black and gold was in my blood for good, and as I headed into my formative high school years, baseball may not have been my top priority – but it was always in my heart.  The players from those teams would continue to be my heroes everytime I took the baseball field in my high school career, a constant reminder that reality always trumps reputation, and sometimes the magical baseball gods are fickle beings, making you feel the agony of defeat many times before you were to have a small taste of victory.  I had learned many life lessons from the Pittsburgh Pirates, and as I got older and the team begin their downward spiral into obscurity, I continued to be the fan that I learned to be from my grandfather and my father.  Real fans don’t abandon their teams when the going gets tough.  They persevere, they honor their commitment to the organization they love.

Baseball is a game that teaches many life lessons, and the ones I learned while growing up as a Pirates fan will be with me until the day I die.  My loyalty is never in question, and I always remember that even if today is a bad day, tomorrow always brings the promise of a 0-0 score.  It is up to me to make sure I win the game.

As I sit here today, a 34-year old lifetime fan of the Pittsburgh Pirates, I now have the opportunity to use my skills to enhance the baseball experience for younger fans through the art of writing.  That is the difference between myself and the folks that write here at Rum Bunter, and the main stream media outlets you find across the internet or in your local papers.  We are fans, FIRST.  We may pride ourselves as journalists, but deep down we all have the same story.  We love the Pittsburgh Pirates.

We all spent our childhoods “Growing Up Buccos”.

The End

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You can read the full three-part series of “Growing Up Buccos: Memories of a Pirated Childhood” exclusively here at rumbunter.com by using the links below!

“Growing up Buccos” – Memories of a Pirated Childhood Part One

“Growing up Buccos” – Memories of a Pirated Childhood Part Two

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Growing Up Buccos: Memories of a Pirated Childhood - Part 2

The Beaver County Times was open on the counter top when I walked in the door from school on April 1, 1987.  The Times was our local newspaper, and the sports page was the first thing I went for as soon as I got through the door each afternoon.  In those days, the paper was delivered in the afternoon instead of the early morning, and it was the lifeblood for any young sports fan looking to keep up on the news.  I would usually grab a quick glass of milk before settling down at our modest dining room table to read the sports page, but rumors had been swirling around Independence Elementary School all day and I needed to know if they were true.  Sure enough, I flipped my trembling fingers through the sections of the paper until I found the Sports page.  Right there, plain as day, in big bold letters was the proof that I had been seeking.  I put the paper down on the table the read the headline over and over again in my mind, trying to grasp the concept and ramifications of what had occurred.  My favorite team had made a stunning transaction, one that would change the face of the franchise for the next several years.  I never actually read the article, I simply got up from the table, wiped away a tear that had formed on my cheek, and ran to my room.  I left the newspaper open to the sports page on the table, with the headline blaring out for the entire world to see:

TONY PENA TRADED TO ST. LOUIS

As I sat in my room that night, I flipped through the pages of my Tony Pena baseball card collection and remembered all of the amazing things I had seen the Pirates star catcher do over the years.  I remembered watching him sign autographs at Three Rivers Stadium before a game late in the previous season, jealous of the kids who had seats so close to the field that they could partake in the presence of such greatness.  I remembered how he effortlessly threw the ball on a rope down to second base to nail a potential basestealer – without ever leaving his knees.  I remembered how even when he knew he had hit the ball out of the park, he would still run the bases full speed.  Tony Pena was more than a ballplayer to me, he was my Joe Dimaggio.  He was the first hero I ever embraced from a sport that would become a lifetime obsession.  As far as I was concerned, Tony Pena WAS the Pittsburgh Pirates.

As I settled down to go to sleep that night, my mind wondered about what would happen now.  Who would the Pirates have catching this season?  Where do we go from here?

The mind of a young baseball fan doesn’t care about the business end of the game.  To a kid, the players on that field are larger than life, and I could only imagine that somewhere out there, Tony Pena was as upset about leaving Pittsburgh as I was that he was leaving.  I imagined him packing his suitcase, leaving all of his black and gold uniforms in his closet before heading on the long journey to St. Louis to join Vince Coleman and Willie McGee with the Cardinals.  As I drifted off to sleep that night under my Pirates comforter, laying my head on my Pirates pillowcases, I said one final goodbye by tucking his 1987 Topps baseball card under my pillow.  That card would be with me for the next 30 years, a reminder to always appreciate the genuine, whimsical side of the game of baseball.

It was time to move forward for me, time to get to know my new Buccos.  I was a kid without a favorite player, and that was a childhood felony if there ever was one.

Andy Van Slyke came to Pittsburgh as an unknown commodity from the St. Louis Cardinals.  He had been a bit player on the Cardinals, a team who was considered a perennial contender in the Pirates division.  As I searched through my “common” card boxes looking for his baseball cards, every one I found mentioned something about his throwing arm in the little “Did You Know” section under the statistics.  It seemed the Pirates had acquired a pretty good player.  He had a look to him, like he would have been a pretty cool guy.  He was young and lanky, with a cocky smile that made you feel like he was going to jump through the cardboard and say “How you doing?”.  I was sold on “Slick” as soon as I saw him play that season.  He started out in rightfield for the Bucs, since Barry Bonds was still patrolling center field in those days.  I could tell that he really enjoyed playing, and more than once that season he did something that made me smile.  He always said funny things in post-game interviews, and was always laughing and joking around.  Sure enough, I had found my new favorite player.

The Pirates of 1987 started out with many of the same players they had in 1986.  The usual suspects like Don Robinson and Rick Reuschel, two pitchers who looked like they should have been working at the local deli instead of playing baseball.  The venerable Johnny Ray was still playing second base, and guys like Bob Walk, Sid Bream, and R.J. Reynolds were still around.  It felt good to still have these players, despite the fact that Tony Pena was now thrilling young fans in St. Louis.  By the end of the season, most of the older guys would be gone.  The final blow to the old guard was when Johnny Ray was traded to the California Angels late in the season.  Amazingly enough, the Pirates played pretty good baseball that season despite the constant turnover and finished 80-82, finally out of the N.L. East basement.  The bar had been set for a rebound season in 1988.  Bobby Bonilla, Barry Bonds, Andy Van Slyke, and pitchers Doug Drabek and John Smiley all looked like future superstars, and Manager Jim Leyland was very easy to relate to for a young fan.  It was an exciting time to be a Pirates fan.

The team that was molded throughout 1986-1988 would end up being my favorite sports team of all time.  As I hit junior high age in 1988, the Pirates were starting to get some national attention on ESPN and on my favorite show – “This Week in Baseball” – a Saturday staple in the Snedden household.  The 1988 season would be my first experience with a Pirates team that was in a pennant race, and I cherished every minute of it.  As the season wore on, the true villain of my baseball world was identified in the form of the dastardly New York Mets.  Our young Buccos once again seemed to have a mental block when playing the Mets, and the summer of ’88 became a battle of good vs. evil for Pirates fans.  The Mets were simply loaded with superstars, and seemed to be unstoppable at times.  The pitching staff was led by Dwight Gooden,who routinely blew away Pirates batters with his 100 mph fastball and devastating curveball.  The offense was even more dominating then the pitching staff, with Darryl Strawberry, Howard Johnson, Kevin McReynolds, Keith Hernandez, and Gary Carter leading the way.  The Pirates played well all season and the Mets were the one team that constantly stood in their way.  The New York Mets were the first team I truly hated, mainly because of the frustration they caused my Buccos.  The Pirates valiantly fought the Mets all summer, but in the end the team from New York was just too far superior.  The Pirates would finish in second place in the N.L. East, a full 15.0 games behind NLCS-bound New York.  It was poetic justice when Orel Hershiser and the Dodgers knocked the Mets out of the playoffs en route to their historic World Series against the Oakland A’s.  The Pirates had proved that they were a team on the rise, and Bucco Fever was in full effect in western Pennsylvania.

The 1988 season would firmly establish Andy Van Slyke as a major league superstar, and in my mind he was the best player in baseball that season.  Not a game went by when he didn’t do something amazing on the field, from running down balls in the alleys to making fantastic over the shoulder catches.  When the dust had settled, Van Slyke turned in one of the best overall seasons ever by a Pittsburgh Pirate, hitting 25 homeruns and stealing 30 bases.  The young core of the new Pirates had many exciting players – Bonds, Bonilla, Jose Lind, Doug Drabek – but Andy Van Slyke was the guy who made it all work.  It was fitting that he played centerfield, because he was the center of everything in my mind.

As the fall turned into winter that offseason, the Pirates began to be featured at various special events in the Pittsburgh area.  One such event was the grand re-opening of a Pizza Hut not two miles from our Buchanan Avenue home.  When news got out that there would be two Pirates signing autographs at the event, my father and I made plans to be there.  The thing about autograph signings in those days was that you knew Pirates would be there – you just didn’t know WHICH Pirates.  I dreamed about walking in and meeting Andy Van Slyke or maybe even Barry Bonds, who had really come into his own the previous season.  The drive to Pizza Hut that Saturday only took ten minutes, but to me it seemed like hours.  I was super excited at the chance to meet some Buccos, and in the back of my mind I imagined that once they met me – a super fan – they would immediately invite me to be part of the team.  Maybe a ball boy?  Perhaps I could even spell the Pirate Parrot as a young Parrot Jr.!  The possibilities were endless in the mind of a 12 year old baseball crazed kid.

As it turned out, the Pirates didn’t exactly send superstars to rural Beaver County autograph signings.  My big day became a tad less exciting when I walked into the newly remolded Pizza Hut to find the two players who would be signing autographs that day.

Bob Kipper and John Cangelosi.

That’s right, Bob “Round Tripper” Kipper and a backup outfielder who was barely taller than me.

As the excitement was slowly pulled from my anxious body by this news, I remembered that these were still actual Pirates.  They might not have been Andy Van Slyke, but they put on the jersey all the same.  I waited in line to get my autographs on their 1989 Topps baseball cards.  Bob Kipper was a quiet guy, hardly looked up at anyone, and quickly signed his name before moving on to the next person in line.  He didn’t seem happy to be there, which was disappointing.  John Cangelosi was the complete opposite, however.  He was smiling the whole time, offered to take pictures, signed his autograph, shook your hand, and thanked you – THANKED YOU – for being a fan.  It was very cool to see that this guy, a major league baseball player, was happy to be at the Hopewell Township Pizza Hut on a Saturday afternoon to greet his fans.  It was my first experience with meeting a player up close and personal, and “Cangy” endeared himself to me that day.  Years later, when he was part of the Florida Marlins team that won the 1997 World Series, I was happy to see him jumping up and down on the field with his teammates.  The five minutes he spent with me in the winter of 1989 had forever made me cheer for him.  He was a guy who had to work three times as hard as anyone else to reach the level he was at.  Not many 5’8″ baseball players make it to the major leagues, and even fewer last 14 years.  It was inspirational to see that you didn’t have to be a great athlete to reach your dreams, that hard work and perseverance counted just as much.  After meeting John Cangelosi, I became determined to give the game of baseball another shot.  Even though I had failed miserably during my first Little League experience, I figured that if he could make it, just maybe I could too.  When I got home that afternoon, I dug my glove and a ball out of the shed and starting playing baseball again.  I ended up playing all through my youth, even in high school.  While I was never very good, I never gave up.  I had my moments, a big hit or a nice play, and every single time I thought back to John Cangelosi.

John Cangelosi gave me a new outlook on the game I loved.

The 1989 season was supposed to be the coming out party for the new Pirates.  After finishing in second place in ’88, the newspapers and magazines all seemed to think the Pirates had a chance to make it to the playoffs in ’89.  They touted Barry Bonds as a future superstar, and of course they all wrote about Andy Van Slyke – the face of the Pirates.  Unfortunately, all of their predictions ended up being wrong.  The 1989 Pirates were a utter disappointment from the start.  Everything that had gone right for the Bucs in 1988 went wrong in 1989.  Injuries took first baseman Sid Bream and catcher Mike LaValliere out early in the campaign, and everyone else had bad seasons.  One bright spot was our introduction to SS Jay Bell, who would instantly become a favorite of all female fans because of his youthful good looks.  Bell wasn’t quite ready to be a starter, so the Pirates traded disappointing pitcher Mike Dunne to the Seattle Mariners for a shortstop named Rey Quinones.  I remember my dad standing in the kitchen trying to sell me on Quinones as a great fielder, and sure enough in his first game with the Bucs he made a great diving stop  and threw out the runner to save the game for the Pirates.  It would turn out to be his swan song in the major leagues, as after the Pirates released him he never played again.  It was my first experience with watching a player at the end of his career, fighting hard to try and keep playing the game he loved.  It was easy to see how much he loved the game, and it was sad to watch him fumble around at the plate, unable to hit National League pitching.  Rey Quinones may not be a guy that casual fans remember, but to me he was the player that defined the 1989 season for the Pirates.  He played hard, but just wasn’t good enough.

As the 1989 season ended, I began to wonder if I would ever see my beloved Pirates win their division and make the playoffs.  I had watched so much bad baseball, but the silver lining was the time I got to spend with my parents and sisters at Three Rivers Stadium that summer.  We went to many games, and whenever we did it was always special.  Going to Pirates games is a rite of passage for all kids growing up in the Steel City, and even though this will always be considered a “football town”, there is something that is just pure about baseball.  So many of my best memories are of sitting in Three Rivers Stadium with my family, decked out in black and gold, cheering on our Pirates.  Even though we rarely saw them emerge victorious, we always left with smiles on our faces.  They are memories I will cherish for all time.

As for my Pirates and their quest to build a winning team, the next year would bring some amazing moments and further endear me to the team I loved.  The Pirates were on the verge of something special, and 1990 would make Pittsburgh ground zero for exciting baseball.  If I was a big fan during the lean years, I really turned it up a notch for something I had never seen – WINNING Pirates baseball.

Things were about to get very exciting in my baseball life, the Battlin’ Buccos were back.

NEXT TIME ON “Growing Up Buccos“ – The Pirates make a run at the National League East title, and a magical ride begins for a young Pirate fan.

If you missed the first installment of “Growing Up Buccos”, you can check it out with this easy link below!

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Jim Leyland is one of our favorite baseball guys.

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