Category Archives: Pirates
I’m going to scream loud enough to wake Myron Cope, then I’ll Koolaid-Man every wall in my house, then possibly run naked through the forest before falling to the ground while joy-weeping.
As one does.
- April 26, 2013
- filed under City Council, Local media, Make Room for Kids, Mayor Ravenstahl, Penguins, Pirates, The Damn Pigeons, Yarone Zober
- 11 comments
1. If you haven’t yet, please scroll down or click here to see pictures of the $20,000 in technology upgrades we dropped off and installed at The Children’s Home of Pittsburgh this week.
2. Reader Kathleen is running the Pittsburgh 1/2 Marathon for Genre’s Kids With Cancer Fund.
If you’re looking for a charitable place to spread some good karma today, go throw in a few dollars for her? She only needs about $240 more to reach her goal!
For sick kids!
3. The Bucs are in second place. Half game out of first. They’ve won 12 of their last 16, I think. The best team in baseball, Atlanta, has only lost 6 games all season, and three of those were to the Pirates.
I’M JUST SAYING.
4. Did you know you can buy Yinzer Bingo at Wildcard and another store that sells them, but I lost the name? There’s a K in the name? Anyone? Anyone? Zober?
These are created by John the Craftist, who is actually a woman. Look at some of the other amazing stuff she creates, many of which are greeting cards:
I’m kind of in love with all of this and I wonder if there’s a Gemini one that says, “Witty. Passionate. Batshit Crazy.”
Anyway, I’ll be in Wildcard very soon to buy all the things.
5. Pigeons are assholes. And they smoke too. Look at this news photo from a 1989 edition of the Post-Gazette.
Click to embiggen and then read the caption.
Unreal. If today’s pigeons get wind of this, it is going to RAIN FIRE.
6. If you’re around Market Square next Friday morning …
Light of Life Rescue Mission is presenting former MLB player Sean Casey with the 3rd annual Locker Room Leadership Award at 9:30 a.m. Sean is a former all-star baseball player for the Pittsburgh Pirates, Cincinnati Reds, Detroit Tigers, Boston Red Sox, and Cleveland Indians. Dennis Bowman will emcee, introducing former Steelers Tunch Ilkin and Craig Wolfley who will present Sean with the award.
I’ll be there hanging out for sure. Sean does amazing things for the homeless via Light of Life.
7. This is old, but shut up.
Suck it, Portland.
Also, people are STILL commenting on my pharmacy rant. My God.
That sounds right.
10. Pretty sure the P-G is going to endorse Wagner after reading this article. Why? Just scroll down and read the comment left by Matt Barron. The P-G very conveniently left out some HUGE names that endorsed Bill Peduto yesterday.
11. Headline: “Penguins Drop Second Straight.”
Seriously. Two losses in a row. NBD.
12. The fountain is almost ready to go!
Here’s an image from today via Point Park TV’s twitter account:
Cannot wait until I can take my kids for a stroll around the fountain again.
Also unreal? That WTAE used FOUR anchors to intro it. Hah!
But seriously … amazing video.
14. Mother’s Day!
Our conversations about the latest episode of “Greatest American Hero” turned to hushed whispers. There was no whining about elbows in ribs or bothersome jelly-shoe blisters. While we painfully swallowed our sneezes, our mom drove with her chin hovering 3 inches above the steering wheel and her hands locked in a death-grip. She’d hold this position until the wagon was safely parked — which is when she’d exhale and revoke the sacred Writ of Silentium Absolutus.
I didn’t appreciate it then, but I can see it now for what it was: My mother was doing something far outside of her comfort zone so that her girls could have nice clothes (that didn’t scream, “Five kids. One job. Hills is where the toys are.”).
And I also put together a Burghy Mother’s Day gift guide for you. Everything from Burgh-made jewelry, to an awesome Pirates iPhone case, to BYOB painting classes where Mom can paint her own Pittsburgh skyline, and LOTS more.
I mean, the Confluence necklace pictured up top of this post? Holy moly.
15. Finally, your amazing tweets:
this commercial says we start losing muscle at age 40. haha joke’s on you I never had any muscle
— James Foreman (@jamesforeman) April 25, 2013
*achoo* <<pause>> Oh god. #thingsyoudontwanttohear
— Terra McBride (@spicymeatball) April 25, 2013
BRB buying like 100 cars from Debbie Flaherty
— Jim Shireman (@shireman) April 25, 2013
Pittsburgh Poetry! vine.co/v/bPpK0tYUr2u
— Pittsburgh Dad (@Pittsburgh_Dad) April 24, 2013
if I die in my sleep, that last show I’ve watched was Ready for Love, so
— Jordan Valinsky (@jordan327) April 24, 2013
Welcome to Pittsburgh, where (evidently) any vehicle making a left turn has the right of way!
— Steve Norcup (@snorcup) April 23, 2013
Have to submit a reimbursement request on this form created entirely with comic sans. Perhaps the check will be signed by the Animaniacs.
— Tim Hindes (@thindes) April 20, 2013
Flash Bang: a group of people who assemble suddenly in a public place, perform unusual sex acts for a brief time, then quickly disperse.
— Bill Crawford (@dveBillCrawford) April 20, 2013
Speculation is the new news.
— mindbling (@mindbling) April 19, 2013
- April 3, 2013
- filed under Awesome Burghers, Make Room for Kids, Mayor Ravenstahl, Penguins, Pirates
- 12 comments
1. Things look a little different on the blog this morning. First, I’ve taken down the Make Room For Kids thermometer, which was sitting over there so long on account of my laziness, natch. [eats a cookie]
You’ll also notice that the three featured posts are gone from just below the header. That is because apparently the widgets all got in a fight and started disabling each other with vicious bitchslaps.
My blog designer, Jennifer of Inksplash, is due to deliver a baby at … any … moment, and therefore, she won’t be able to tinker with it for a bit of time.
And why don’t I just tinker with it and fix it myself? LOL. You’d be surprised how very very little I know about WordPress and HTML and mothereffing widgets. In fact, when people email me to ask me for help with the techy stuff on their blogs, my response is, “LOL! SOMETHING SOMETHING VEAL!”
All that to say … the blog looks different! It’s not just you!
I’m wordy today.
Wordiness is my co-pilot.
(h/t Randy Baumann)
3. How ’bout ‘dem Pens? I was glad they lost because they can’t never not lose again (triple negative, baby!) and I need them to lose now and not during the playoffs, eh?
Last night my brother-in-law Muchacho, Pens Fan’s husband, sent me a text so angry about Dan Potash, that I still to this moment do not understand what he was saying. He was apparently keyboard smashing on an iPhone, which isn’t an easy thing to do.
You know it’s bad in the Pens locker room when Dan Potash is forced to interview the opposing players.
And you know it’s a bad game when my brother-in-law turns on Dan Potash. That’s like walking up to Jeff Jimerson and being all, “No, I don’t want to run my fingers through your silky smooth hair.”
Also, wordiness! Get a cup of coffee; I’m using all the words today.
Including this one … brobdingagian.
[takes a bow]
4. Oh my God. We’re only on number 4.
You know, if you have to drive a piece of shit car, you might as well drive an AWESOME piece of shit car.
(h/t a bunch of yinz)
7. I recently reconnected to perhaps my favorite local artist Saihou O. Njie, whose paintings just … they’re amazing. I’ve been a fan for a decade now and someday, I will own one. Do you have one you want to sell me?
Anyway, check this out. His latest exhibit “Twinning,” at Manchester Craftsman’s Guild showcases his efforts to match 100 Africans with their African American lookalikes.
I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE THIS.
8. AreThePiratesInFirstPlace.com is exactly what it sounds like.
(via Sarah from Smart Bitches, Trashy Books)
Sean Conboy is not only my editor, he is my spirit animal.
10. Things to read, because I can’t remember if I linked you to them or not on account of my previously discussed laziness [eats another cookie]:
- I’ve been trying to learn all of my grandma’s Syrian recipes. Problem is she died a decade ago and I didn’t bother to sit her down before that. BE YE NOT SO STUPID. Go read. I talk about Ouija Boards. My father just prayed for me.
- Then go read Wayno’s post featuring the early sketches for that column and how he decided on that illustration of me inside a measuring cup. LOVE IT. Although I kind of wish I could see his finished mock-up of The Devil’s Spatula, which is what I have dubbed the baker’s version of the gardener’s black thumb.
- My previous column was about Primanti Bros. going nationwide and how I feel about that and how you feel about that.
- Did you read my post about Target Canada using the Mister Rogers theme song in a commercial? It’s aboot time you did! I MADE A FUNNY.
- Did you read my post that was my farewell to Lukey? The post that a reader read and then said I had drank the Kool-Aid and was now “smitten” with Luke Ravenstahl? SOMETHING SOMETHING VEAL!
11. “Three Things You Didn’t Know About Roberto Clemente.” Unless you are me, and then you knew all of them.
[awkward kung fu moves]
12. Tweets I love from you guys this week:
It’s supposed to snow tonight. I will angrily stand outside and punch the snow as it falls
— Pat Hanavan (@PatHanavan) March 24, 2013
Made a loaf of bread. It’s rubbery like a bouncy ball. Or gum.I’ve essentially made whole wheat gum.
— SupervillainMom (@SupervillainMom) March 22, 2013
Ray Shero could bring the olympics to Pittsburgh. I believe this statement to be 100% true.
— Mikey (@fsmikey) March 28, 2013
In related news:Penguins acquire John Tavares from the Islanders for a signed Sidney Crosby skate.
— Denis Leary (@denisleary) March 28, 2013
Hoping that Starling Marte can play up to the level of how cool he looks and how cool his name is.
— chrisfafalios (@chrisfafalios) April 1, 2013
Snow and windy, now dry and sunny. Pittsburgh weather: if you don’t like it, wait 15 minutes and it’ll change.
— marie popichak (@maripops) April 1, 2013
Really thought 2013 was going to be the year I print something, walk over to the printer, and it’s there.
— Cara Sapida (@WPXICara) April 3, 2013
@janepitt But are the people of Century III Chevrolet, Lebanon Church Road, Pittsburgh safe? As I recall it is minutes from the mall.
— Kim Z Dale (@observacious) April 3, 2013
And now you have that jingle stuck in your head.
[drops mic and walks away]
If you watched the Pirates game yesterday late afternoon and early evening, something magical happened.
But first, let me preface that magic by saying the Pirates hit a rough patch this home stand. A real rough patch. The road went from asphalt, to gravel, to dirt, to Mars. Reports of whiplash were running rampant on the bandwagon. Emails and tweets rolled in. “You ready to take a match to your bandwagon?” “You playing with a lighter up there, Ginny?”
My mom said, “They’re falling apart.”
I said, “I’m not worried. They’ll turn it around.”
Fans were scared. The Trib said there was “no end in sight” for the tailspin, which is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. The team held a players only meeting which hinted at desperation. Was this the beginning of the dreaded second-half collapse we experienced last season? commentators bloviated. There was much virtual wringing of the hands over the Pirates’ woes.
Yesterday was a must-win game on more than just the win-loss level. More than just the wildcard level. This was a must-win game on the emotional level. This was a must win game that would decide if my bandwagon kept rocking and rolling along or if by morning light it was just me, Woy, and a half dozen people too drunk to jump off yet.
As the leader of the team, AJ Burnett got a little passionate yesterday.
He gave up a homerun to Hanley Ramirez at the top of the fourth inning. Rounding second base toward home, Ramirez did his signature eyes move to Burnett.
AJ didn’t like this. AJ watched Ramirez do this — watched him round third base and AJ had a look on his face similar to how God looks at Satan. Similar to how I look at pigeons. Garfield looks at Mondays. Lukey looks at Peduto.
Burning. Eternal. Hellfire. Hate.
Then comes the sixth inning. Pirates are up eight to four and AJ strikes Ramirez out swinging.
Ramirez starts arguing with the home plate ump.
And AJ, in an epic burst of badassery, shouts at Ramirez to “Sit the f*#k down! Sit dahn!”
It was glorious and inspired and life-affirming and it was more.
It was more than just AJ telling Ramirez to sit his ass down on the bench — to go put his bum in the seat, as my kids’ bus driver tells the kids. “BUMS IN SEATS!”
It was more. It was AJ showing his leadership. His passion for this team. His desire to win. How much he cares about the Pirates.
It was AJ showing how much fight the team still has left despite the rocky road they’ve traveled recently.
It was AJ looking at those of you on the bandwagon who are out of your seats, toeing the edge as pothole after pothole lurches you about and rattles your brain, as the bumpy ground rushes by and you start to think, “I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” And you stand there thinking about jumping off.
AJ’s talking to you. And he’s telling you there are games left to play and fights left to fight and that the Pirates are still willing to go to battle.
He’s telling you to sit the f*#k down.
Kindly oblige the man.
I’m in Virginia and then on to the southern part of North Carolina for the annual family vacation, and I spent a good portion of the drive just trying to wrap my brain around the Freeh report. But that’s neither here nor there and I don’t honestly even know what that phrase means.
I’ve invited some of Pittsburgh’s best to guest post while I’m away and here’s Goob. You remember him from the excellent “Shortcuts” post he wrote when I was in Mexico earlier this year and here he is talking about something we can all agree on these days … baseball. But he’s going to talk to you about baseball in a way that’s going to just make you drink in words like you’re dying of thirst.
I will cheerfully admit that I am one of those people who has a deep affection for our baseball stadium. It’s a beautiful ballpark. I know that’s an old saw; the aesthetics of the park have been a hollow consolation for a while now, a refrain that has been taken to find weight and worth in a place that has only ever hosted a quiet, desperate futility. I think that people have thought I say such things because there was nothing else to say to the positive: nothing of any use happens down on that field, they might claim, so I am just clinging to the architecture, trying to salvage something of value from my ticket stub, trying to save some face.
That could be. But: I like the park. The park shows me wonders, from time to time.
There was that day several summers ago, hot and thick. The skyline was muted by the heavy air, the chiseled edges of the buildings softened in the haze. We sat up in the tall seats, the upper deck, the places they aim for when they shoot hotdogs from air cannons. The air was no less thick up there, and we had an excellent view of dark clouds, crawling toward us out of the west. When those clouds finally moved up over the West End, they dropped a mighty rain which slid like a curtain between us and the city, hiding it, backstage, until it could finish its costume change and be in place for the second act. The rain moved on, the city emerged, slick and clean and gleaming. The air became cool up there in the seats for a while.
On the field, they played on.
Several other summers ago, I treated myself to a mid-week afternoon game, getting a good seat on the Third Base line. It was a beautiful afternoon, sunny and cool, with good chatter in the stands even though so few seats were full. At one point, someone slapped a popup high into the blue, coming our way, and I noticed a remarkable thing: the ball stopped moving, and hovered there, near the sun, all of us staring up at it. Then I noticed that, although it wasn’t moving, it was getting bigger. I am not a professional baseball player, and I did not bring a glove, and quite soon after that I got hit in the shoulder with a baseball.
It bounced away and skittered under seats. In front of me, a fellow with a local jersey and a black and gold ball cap leaned down in his seat and picked up the ball from between his shoes. He looked at it, grinned at his buddy next to him, and then leaned across the aisle to put it carefully into the small hands of a little girl, visiting the park with her softball team. Her eyes never left that ball in her hands, even when she carefully said, “Thank you.”
On the field, they played on.
From time to time, they have Turn Back the Clock games at the park. The play takes on an air of historical enactment, the players sporting vintage uniforms, the uniforms sometimes difficult to look at. My absolute favorite of these was some years since, when they shuffled the calendar all they way back to before the war. They warned us over the PA system before the game that they were making some changes to recreate the experience of a game from that era. The players would be wearing uniforms of that era, with sloped caps and wide shirts. There would be no pierogi race, they said, no launching of hot dogs or t-shirts. The only thing coming over the PA would be the batter’s name as they stepped up to the plate. The only music would come from the organ. The only thing on the score board would be the score. The players took the field, and the sounds of the game became so much stronger: the soft thud of a ball buried in the catcher’s mitt, the murmurs and gasps of the crowd, the crack of the bat. The game became an artful space of pleasant dignity, and they played on.
(If I can say anything to the management, it would be this: more of those, please.)
So: go to the ball park, and look around. Look up into the spiderwork of girders. Peek into the corners, and stroll along the concourse. The park, the game, the city, they will all seem fine, and there will be spaces where you go to stand or sit where any or all of them will seem special. Go to take in an afternoon of summer sun, dodge a pop fly, let your day play out the way the game does. Keep your eyes open. See what happens. It’s a wonderful place for that, even when they are not winning.
And they are winning.