Loyalty to Hero and Team Unconditional

You may have noticed that from time to time in these columns, I refer to a favorite major league baseball team of mine as “my beloved Pittsburgh Pirates”. Since 1971, the Pirates have reigned supreme as my favorite team in any sport. We did have a brief separation in 1997 when they parted with my favorite manager, but I eventually returned after a few months of pouting. Unfortunately, I returned to futility. Recently my Pittsburgh Pirates were tabbed by one publication as the worst franchise in all of professional sports. Ugggh. They haven't had a winning season since 1992, when they blew a two-run 9th inning lead that would have sent them to the World Series. My advance-purchase World Series tickets went unused. So why do I still give my heart to this hapless band of cellar dwellers? Simple. I am loyal. I fell in love with the Pirates when I was seven. And jumping off the bandwagon isn't my style. Though I loved them all, my favorite two Pirates were Roberto Clemente and Willie Stargell. Clemente led the team to the World Series title in '71 and died tragically a little over a year later. A child's heart was broken. But I still had Willie. “Pops”, as he later became known, was my absolute hero. He was a huge, left- handed power hitting first baseman and I was an undersized, righty-hitting shortstop but it mattered not. Willie was my hero and because of him, I worked hard not only at baseball, but also at school and at life. I played on a little club team (they called it the minor leagues) when I was seven called the Pirates. During a real Pirates game on the Saturday Game of the Week on one occasion, the announcer referred to prospects in the minor leagues. Due to my extreme naivete, I assumed that since I played minor league, my team was somehow connected to the big league Pirates and they were monitoring our progress closely. No one could have convinced me different. Some thirty years later, I asked a Pirates scout friend of mine how Willie was doing. My friend informed me that Pops was extremely ill due to a kidney disease and his days were numbered. Heartbroken, I went home and typed a letter on my computer. The contents of that letter will remain private but basically I poured out my heart about how an African-American slugger in Pittsburgh inspired a small town white kid from North Carolina to dare to dream. And I was a better person because of him. Through a previous connection with the Pirates general manager at that time, I was able to get my letter to the Pirates organization. A few weeks later my scout friend assured me Willie had received my letter while in the hospital. A week or two after that on April 9, 2001- ten years ago this month- a voice on my truck radio informed me that my hero had fallen. A thirty-seven-year-old college baseball coach choked back a tear as the memories flowed. Unlike many money-chasing stars of today, Willie Stargell played for one team his entire career. And as long as I'm around- no matter what their record is- Willie's team will always be my team, too.