We Had’em All The Way
I grew up listening to baseball games with my Dad on our radio that we would bring outside for each game. The hard plastic AM/FM radio was gray in color and had a carrying handle that functioned also as an antenna. We lived in a small town nestled in a valley so sometimes the broadcasts were difficult to bring in. Our house which had been a company house at one time looked much like everyone else’s, had an open porch where we sat to listen. The porch was open on three sides if you counted the steps and at one time there were faux bamboo curtains to shield us from the afternoon sun.
Our team was the Pittsburgh Pirates lead by Roberto Clemente the team’s only legitimate star and surrounded by other good ball players who were hard workers much like the fans. These fans were mostly blue collar workers from the mines and mills surrounding Pittsburgh. The team’s flamboyant announcer was Bob Prince aka the Gunner who wore checkered sport coats and gave descriptions of plays in what became known as “Gunnerisms”. In broadcast speak he was a “rooter” rather than a “homer” like Mel Allen and Harry Caray. These men enthusiastically supported the team, gave the players nicknames and they all had their own trademark phrases. Bob Prince had many but the one that would inevitably draw the ire of my Dad was “we had’em all the way”.
The 1960 Bucs were a scrappy team that was seldom out of a game. Along with Bobby Clemente there were Dick Groat and Bill Mazeroski, a great infield tandem, a golden glove centerfielder Bill Virdon and first baseman Dick Stuart, nicknamed Dr. Strangeglove who would, many thought muff routine plays on purpose and a cast of other quirky players with names like Ducky, Smokey, Deacon , Kitten and the Baron. This motley crew was led by manager Danny Murtaugh, The Irishman. As the season played out into the hot days of August the Pirates were sitting in first place. Some days it was great pitching others timely hitting and others well just plain lucky.
On one particular night hits and runs were hard to come by. We had the lead then lost the lead. In those days the starting pitchers would pitch the whole game and only come out if they were being hit early in the game. The days of the relief specialist and pitch counts were years away. Now we’re into the sixth, seventh and eight still can’t get a run. All the while Bob Prince paints us a picture with phrases like “the seeing eye single” that snuck through for the other team and telling us the “Bucs are snake bit tonight” because we can’t get a hit. In addition to the play by play announcing he would be selling the next home stand and of course Iron City beer. Dad taking another dip of Copenhagen snuff out of the can and says, “I don’t know Boy it don’t look good. We’ll get them Dad Clemente’s going to get a hit and then maybe someone will get a homer. Well they better do something it’s getting late in the game.” Now to call Dad an optimist would be like saying that Billy May the television huckster was a shrinking violet. On more than one occasion the famous Eastern European temper would be ignited by one or another “Gunnerism”.
“On to the bottom of the ninth we go at Forbes Field, the house of thrills the Cards 4 the Pirates 3. Clemente stands in waiting the first pitch “Arriba, Arriba” Prince would shout into the microphone as the first pitch a strike. “We need a bloop and blast” meaning a single than a homer to win the game. Clemente lines the next pitch time into right field now we have the tying run on. Next up to bat is Dick Stuart who fans on three consecutive fastballs. Dad now mumbling a few choice words but still not irritated with Bob Prince. Mazeroski comes up and after taking the first two pitches for balls pops up down the third base line. “Its rug cutting time here, the Bucs last chance” The stadium announcer tells us that Smokey Burgess will pinch hit in the pitchers spot. Smokey takes the first pitch low and outside and the next a fastball down the middle. I’m sitting on my hands while Dad spits over the porch in deep contemplation. Smokey jumps on the next pitch a screaming line drive that clears the fence. “You can kiss it goodbye” says Prince as Smokey circles the bases. “Burgess with a two run shot wins the game and we had ‘em all the way” Now Dad wasn’t much for baloney so this catch phrase would ignite the fuse as a few epitaphs would spill out into the night air and he would mumble “yea we had ‘em all the way, we’re lucky we won. Ok Boy, grab the radio and let’s go in its bedtime.
Years later I lived in a city with a minor league team which I want to watch frequently. Once Dad was visiting and I said lets go to the ball game. I could tell he wasn’t real interested but didn’t know why. About the sixth inning he wanted to leave and I was surprised. By that time my Mom had passed and chalked it up to his lack of interest in general. He turned to me and said,”I lost interest during the 1994 strike. The ballplayers are all greedy and the only care about money and not the game” I was shocked! Wasn’t this the man who kindled my passion for this game? I could understand but could not understand. I’m guessing from his standpoint of working so very hard all his life and making nothing like the salaries of a professional athlete soured him. Dad and Bob Prince are gone but I still listen to baseball on my deck at night. Sometimes I catch myself having a Dad moment when the team loses or plays poorly. It’s funny how we grow up not wanting to be like our parents, in some ways but imitate them in so many other ways.
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