Pirates announce death of Dave Parker, add tragic wrinkle to Hall of Fame induction

When you wait too long to honor the legendary living, sometimes they become the dead.

Pittsburgh Pirates slugger Dave Parker, who owned the 1970s with his uncoiling power bat and righteous right arm, has been in declining health for years, diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease in 2012. He remained decidedly defiant about his fate, however, appearing at PNC Park and remaining a public figure, even as age robbed him of the remarkable athleticism that defined him for so long.

His exceptional '70s - the MVP in 1978, a World Series champion after batting .345 in the 1979 Fall Classic - led to a less-than-his-abilities '80s, clouding his legendary status in the game. When the dust settled, he was a seven-time All-Star (and, to be fair, two appearances came in the '80s and one in 1990). Subjectively speaking, he'd dropped more than enough jaws to earn admission into Cooperstown. Objectively? The stat heads didn't quite see enough to usher him past the velvet rope unencumbered.

And so he waited. And fell off the ballot. And waited for Cooperstown to self-correct its Veterans Committee processes repeatedly. And waited some more. And finally, after eons and eras, Parker was rightfully slated for induction in the Summer of 2025. A podium on a sweltering July day awaited him - as it had his entire post-baseball life, of course, but it had finally been written in ink by the powers that be, ready to honor Parker's powers that were.

But, in one last ghastly twist of fate, Parker's wife informed the Pirates of The Cobra's passing on Saturday afternoon, which was announced at the ballpark and online. He was freshly 74 years old. Now, someone must speak in his place anyhow, and we must only hope that he adequately felt the gravity of the honor without ever get to experience being awash in adoration on a thick-aired afternoon in the hamlet of baseball excellence.

Pirates' Dave Parker dies less than one month before his Hall of Fame induction ceremony.

Cooperstown will welcome Parker's family with open arms and, appropriately, his soul will rest forever in the building's Halls, a gilded version of the very best of the former Pirate's image.

But he won't get the day he earned, and he should've had it decades ago, while his memory was still slightly fresher. While at least he learned of the honor he was set to receive, unlike other luminaries like Ron Santo and Dick Allen (who shares his class), he didn't get to communicate his emotions in the manner he deserved, commanding the stage in front of a hundred of his awestruck peers. And that, much like his arm uncoiling and cutting down another baserunner, is a horrific twist that will be hard to reconcile.