Welcome to Hell on a Bun. Welcome to Loserville.

Loserville is Actually Quite Beautiful

Can’t help it. Just got back to the hotel after night one at PNC Park. Mets won 5-4. It was ugly. So was one of ‘dem Primanti Bros. sandwich. Disgusting…but somewhat tastier. I think…

In terms of the on-field action, the Mets should have lost. El Duque was terrible. Awful at-bats up and down the order. But this was a game in Loserville. The Bucs may come back and win the next two. It doesn’t matter.

This was a phenomenon I’ve never experienced in any stadium before. Seriously. This is not meant to be “piling on” hyperbole of convenience. This was a sincere emotion felt sitting in the stands in Pittsburgh. Announced attendance was 25, 277. Despite jumping ahead 2-0 with El Duque on his way to 300 pitches, there were 25, 277 who had zero confidence the Bucs were going to win. Of course, I can’t substantiate this claim with any scientific evidence. But I’m telling you the feeling was palpable.

It was actually incredibly depressing. The park is beautiful. The night, perfect. And the Pirates do have a few promising young players (maybe? you can’t really tell because…well…they’re on the Pirates). Yet, every normal signal of stadium enthuiasm felt manufactured.

There was a tremendous video montage that introduced the Bucs. It was exciting. It was well-produced. Except for the fact that 75% of the highlights were in black and white. This is telling. It was meant to convey tradition. Pride. A historic franchise. Instead it seemed like a kick to the groin.

Another animated video showed intimidating warships with menacing Pirate flags blasting their guns at incoming Mets ships. The crowd had that “c’mon, let’s be real” look on their faces. The feeble “let’s go bucs” chants were regularly and somehwhat easily drowned out by “let’s go mets” shouts from the few thousand visiting fans.

The most telling moment? The one that encapsulated for me what it means to be a Bucs fan?

Seventh inning. MLB highlights showing on the jumbotron. Cubs-Reds look-in features Aramis Ramirez going yard. There is a woman seated one row behind me. She is middle-aged. Dressed in Pirates black. She is dedicated but defeated. You can tell she has “been there.” She is watching. In a pained voice she says (and, I quote): “Ohh…Aramis Ramirez. I loved him. He was sooo good. Why did we let him go?”

I turned to her and offered a smile that could only be described as sympathetic. It was a smile meant to say “I understand.” “I feel your pain.” “It must be hard.” It was meant to say a lot of things. But, in reality, I can’t even imagine.

Somehow, it seemed like she knew all of those things that smile was trying to convey and her half-smile back appeared to reply: “I know. It’s OK.”

And so they continue to come. To watch. To cheer with no real hope. To be fans of a team that is 19-under .500. In dead last. About to endure another in a string of a decade and a half of losing seasons.

To the woman behind me, and the 25,000 or so others who endured tonight, I salute you. May the baseball gods come to smile on your franchise again. Some day.

In the meantime, my team is looking to stay ahead in a playoff race. And I couldn’t be happier we’re in Loserville for a three-game set.