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ifspuds · 03-03-2006, 02:09 PM

Paradise Found
by Jack McKinley
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (issue of October 10, 1966)

Jim Alan stood at the plate, the last hope of the Boston Red Sox. George Adkison, who had been icily efficient in his second outstanding start of the 1966 World Series, opposed him. No runners on, two down, and the Red Sox needing a miracle to overcome a six-run deficit. Adkison sent his 107th pitch toward the plate, a fastball on the inside half of the plate, but Alan, never intimidated by the hard stuff, got the bat around and sent the ball sharply up the middle. As soon as he hit it, in the back of your head, you could hear that nagging voice. This would be the start of the inevitable Pirates collapse.

Pirates shortstop Tim Crusher, known more for his prodigious power than his graceful glove, had other ideas.

He knew what was coming. He'd taken a couple of steps toward the bag as the pitch was delivered, knowing how Jim Alan could pull a pitch. So his running dive, gloved left hand stretched as far as he could reach it, was enough -- just enough -- to snare the bouncing ball in the pocket. Scrambling to his feet, he threw on to Fletcher Jones with every ounce of strength he could put behind it.

That little voice? Silenced.

George Adkison stood on the mound, too stunned by the umpire's emphatic call ending the game to do anything but stare. That is, until he was mobbed by his teammates, buried beneath a pile of happy humanity the likes of which Pirates faithful had not seen in nearly sixty years.

The Pirates are World Series champions. The franchise, the fans, the players, who suffered for so long are free. This win is for all of them.

It's for all the players whose former teammates turned their heads to avoid the glance of a condemned man just traded to Pittsburgh.

It's for men like Jonathan Stobart, who toiled valiantly in obscurity for so many horrible Pirates teams, then nearly got to taste the thrill of a World Series before it was snatched away from him.

It's for Oz Olzenski, 67 years old and a fresh-faced 13-year old the last time the Pirates even saw World Series action. Oz has been attending Pirates games every year, good times and bad, every year since. If there is a more dedicated fan of this once-downtrodden franchise, you would be hard-pressed to find one.

It's for Charles Bradley, the former general manager of the team who put together the '52-'56 Pirates that came so close three times and never could quite break through.

It's for all the players in the last fifty years who had to be traded elsewhere to get any taste of postseason play.

It's for everyone across the nation who needs something to inspire them when they're at their lowest, when it seems like nothing will ever go right again, for everyone struggling against long odds. It may just be a baseball team, but sometimes the simplest things can be the most encouraging.

It's for Ray Brown, still the greatest player ever to grace Forbes Field's emerald outfield, who passed away before seeing his Pirates make it back to the promised land he'd led them to four times.

And yes, it's also for Bud Breckenridge. It is a cliche in sports, winning one for the ailing, the departed. But I trust that you, gentle reader, will excuse my use of the cliched this one special time.

Finally, Pirates fan, it's for you. All of you that have read my philosophizing, my hair-tearing, my misty-eyed optimism and slumped disappointment over so many past years, all of you that have thrilled to the exploits of Pirates greats and gone into hiding at a 90-loss season. All of you who have kept faith that someday the drought would be ended by autumn's cooling rain of a World Series win. Drink deeply, Pirate fan, and let your thirst be ended. Wait until next year? Go ahead. But for the first time in 57 long years, you'll be waiting not to see if they can do it, but to see if they can do it again.

This will be my last missive. After nearly fifty years of covering the team, I swore to myself that if I had the honor to cover a Pirates' World Series championship, I would put aside my pen and notebook and let a younger man have the tremendous opportunity of following this team as I have done. After all, this is a new era in Pirates baseball. May you and my successor not have to wait 57 more years to celebrate. But just in case, make sure you enjoy this day to its fullest. Let these memories carry you for as long as they need to, and stand proud as a Pirates fan.

03-03-2006, 02:09 PM	#350 (permalink)
ifspuds Hall Of Famer Join Date: Jun 2003 Location: Spokane WA Posts: 2,092	Paradise Found by Jack McKinley Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (issue of October 10, 1966) Jim Alan stood at the plate, the last hope of the Boston Red Sox. George Adkison, who had been icily efficient in his second outstanding start of the 1966 World Series, opposed him. No runners on, two down, and the Red Sox needing a miracle to overcome a six-run deficit. Adkison sent his 107th pitch toward the plate, a fastball on the inside half of the plate, but Alan, never intimidated by the hard stuff, got the bat around and sent the ball sharply up the middle. As soon as he hit it, in the back of your head, you could hear that nagging voice. This would be the start of the inevitable Pirates collapse. Pirates shortstop Tim Crusher, known more for his prodigious power than his graceful glove, had other ideas. He knew what was coming. He'd taken a couple of steps toward the bag as the pitch was delivered, knowing how Jim Alan could pull a pitch. So his running dive, gloved left hand stretched as far as he could reach it, was enough -- just enough -- to snare the bouncing ball in the pocket. Scrambling to his feet, he threw on to Fletcher Jones with every ounce of strength he could put behind it. That little voice? Silenced. George Adkison stood on the mound, too stunned by the umpire's emphatic call ending the game to do anything but stare. That is, until he was mobbed by his teammates, buried beneath a pile of happy humanity the likes of which Pirates faithful had not seen in nearly sixty years. The Pirates are World Series champions. The franchise, the fans, the players, who suffered for so long are free. This win is for all of them. It's for all the players whose former teammates turned their heads to avoid the glance of a condemned man just traded to Pittsburgh. It's for men like Jonathan Stobart, who toiled valiantly in obscurity for so many horrible Pirates teams, then nearly got to taste the thrill of a World Series before it was snatched away from him. It's for Oz Olzenski, 67 years old and a fresh-faced 13-year old the last time the Pirates even saw World Series action. Oz has been attending Pirates games every year, good times and bad, every year since. If there is a more dedicated fan of this once-downtrodden franchise, you would be hard-pressed to find one. It's for Charles Bradley, the former general manager of the team who put together the '52-'56 Pirates that came so close three times and never could quite break through. It's for all the players in the last fifty years who had to be traded elsewhere to get any taste of postseason play. It's for everyone across the nation who needs something to inspire them when they're at their lowest, when it seems like nothing will ever go right again, for everyone struggling against long odds. It may just be a baseball team, but sometimes the simplest things can be the most encouraging. It's for Ray Brown, still the greatest player ever to grace Forbes Field's emerald outfield, who passed away before seeing his Pirates make it back to the promised land he'd led them to four times. And yes, it's also for Bud Breckenridge. It is a cliche in sports, winning one for the ailing, the departed. But I trust that you, gentle reader, will excuse my use of the cliched this one special time. Finally, Pirates fan, it's for you. All of you that have read my philosophizing, my hair-tearing, my misty-eyed optimism and slumped disappointment over so many past years, all of you that have thrilled to the exploits of Pirates greats and gone into hiding at a 90-loss season. All of you who have kept faith that someday the drought would be ended by autumn's cooling rain of a World Series win. Drink deeply, Pirate fan, and let your thirst be ended. Wait until next year? Go ahead. But for the first time in 57 long years, you'll be waiting not to see if they can do it, but to see if they can do it again. This will be my last missive. After nearly fifty years of covering the team, I swore to myself that if I had the honor to cover a Pirates' World Series championship, I would put aside my pen and notebook and let a younger man have the tremendous opportunity of following this team as I have done. After all, this is a new era in Pirates baseball. May you and my successor not have to wait 57 more years to celebrate. But just in case, make sure you enjoy this day to its fullest. Let these memories carry you for as long as they need to, and stand proud as a Pirates fan. __________________ Jeff Watson TWB (co-commissioner): Pittsburgh Pirates GM (team dynasty here, #5 Dynasty of 2005!) (TWB Champs 1966, 1967, 1973, NL Champs 1968, NL East Champs 1969, NL Champs 1970, 1971 NPBL: Illinois Jethawks GM Outpost League: A Fictional World Dynasty (#9 (tie) Dynasty of 2005!)