Sometimes, this city overwhelms me. It isn't always in a bad way, and really, the good ways that it overwhelms me are what got me thinking about this entry, but I do think it's worth noting that my extremes in moods are quite often linked to this city.
Let me begin by telling a story about Los Angeles.
I lived in Los Angeles for about eighteen months. The part of LA where we lived was actually Burbank, which is home to lots of movie studios and unbearable temperatures. Burbank is in the Valley, which is the San Fernando Valley, home to Valley Girls and the adult film industry. I'm not making that up; Boogie Nights was based on an area about ten miles from our house, and every Tuesday night, the bar down the street from us hosted Porn Star Karaoke, which is precisely what it sounds like it is. (Since you are now wondering, porn stars are excellent at karaoke.)
If you've ever visited Southern California, you know that it is home to two colors, brown and smog-brown. Brown is the color of the mountains and vegetation, and smog-brown is the color of the cloud that hangs over the city any time there is daylight.
Los Angeles is also home to two major weather conditions, which are 'hot' and 'unbearably freaking hot.' In the Valley, the temperature would easily top triple digits in August. In fact, I distinctly remember searching for over an hour for a parking space at Santa Monica beach on Labor Day, because it was only 98 degrees on the shore, and that felt chilly compared to the 117 in Burbank.
There is, however, a minor weather condition, typically seen only from mid-January through February, and this is 'torrential downpour.' Basically, once we were so exhausted with sunlight, the sky decided to spend thirty days dumping water on us, causing all sorts of traffic accidents and flooding conditions, and a leak in the closet that held our hot water tank. And then in March...
We went to San Francisco for a weekend, just to get the hell out of LA, and suddenly, the hillsides... they were green. I'm not just talking like, mildly green, I'm speaking new-birth-of-the-forest freaking Fern Gully green. And there were wildflowers! The hills were covered with little dots of yellow that just coated the side of the road. We were driving up the 5, and I remember thinking, "Holy Jesus, this isn't Los Angeles! What the hell? Has the city finally come to life?" The brown hills were green, the yellowish mountains were green, the wildflowers were everywhere, and on that day, the world was full of promise.
This lasted about a week, and when we drove up the same route to Sonoma for the film festival in the beginning of April, the hills were brown again. The sun had returned and scorched it all, and all I had were the photos we'd taken to prove that LA really had another color stored away somewhere.
That weekend in Sonoma, I made a solomn vow that I was going to get the hell off the West Coast and back to Pittsburgh where I belonged.
The thing about Pittsburgh is that the feeling that the world is alive is what keeps me going. Yes, there are depressing things around every bend, if you're looking. The Pens lost Game 6 to the Canadiens last night, when we really should have won, but as I was rushing home to catch the third period, I passed over the Hot Metal Bridge, and the lights of the city reflected off of the Monongahela, and for one minute, I couldn't worry about the outcome of the game. I knew there was a chance we weren't going to pull through and win it, but I also knew, in that moment, that in a city as beautiful as ours, there was always going to be another chance.
In autumn, the trees here cover such a wide expanse of colors, and the sky in October is just so very, very blue, and the sight from the top of the hill where I live of the Steel Building peeking up over the trees from downtown is just unmatchable. And in winter, that quiet stillness after a huge snowfall, when the trees are hanging low, bare branches outlined in white... it just makes me feel warm.
So maybe it's the fact that I had to live through the shades of brown in Los Angeles that lets me get so overwhelmed with this city's beauty. I'll take it. I don't regret the fact that we spent so much time and money and heart getting beat down on the West Coast, if the trade-off is that I can appreciate this little city so much more fully. This is our first spring in this house, and I have been watching the green burst out on the trees, watched the blossoms erupt pink and then fade into emerald. The Steel Building towers over green now, a million different gorgeous shades, and I just feel overwhelmed - overwhelmed in a good way, struck with the fact that maybe life is, after all, full of possibility and promise.
If I could give this city a hug, I would do it. If I could wrap my arms around Pittsburgh, even on a rainy day, even on the day after a Pens loss, I would do it. In fact, maybe right now is the moment that this city needs a hug. Last night, when I was feeling down, the city lights lifted me up, and if I could tell this city just how much I love it, maybe tomorrow, the sun will shine again and the Pens will bring home a win.
Really, in this city, I think it's quite possible. :)
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
A Food Festive Day
Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo, and like many other Americans, I choose to celebrate this holiday with margaritas and delicious Mexican food despite not really understanding what the point of the holiday is. (Because I don't like to be 'that guy', I looked it up and have learned that its original intent is to simply commemorate the Mexican victory against the French in the 1862 Battle of Puebla, although it is presently celebrated more in the US just how I thought, as a day to appreciate Mexican heritage and culture, and consequently give us an excuse to overindulge in all that fantastic cooking).
However, we Pittsburghers are fortunate enough that we can cross over into two ethnic food worlds, as the St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Cathedral runs its Greek Food Festival the first week of May, coinciding nicely with the holiday. And yesterday, I was one of those lucky Pittsburghers who got to experience both.
My husband and I decided to hit up St. Nick's for lunch, and we took advantage of the beautiful weather by walking from our house in Squirrel Hill through Schenley Park into Oakland. It was quite a hike, but the scenery was just unbeatable. Here are two pictures we took from the Panther Hollow Bridge in Schenley.
We had missed lunch by the time we got to St. Nick's, but the a-la carte menu runs straight through the day. We wound our way into the church basement (I could write a whole blog about how I love church basements and their random stages and feel of a Bingo game about to begin) and tenatively approached the food.
I am going to admit this right now: those big rotating meat-slab things at the Point during the Regatta have always made me a little terrified of gyros. Even though I lived within walking distance of the Greek Food Festival for six years, I had never been there, and really, the only Greek food I can think of that I've ever eaten was feta cheese and mini spanikopitas at someone's wedding reception. I was a little intimidated.
Lucky for us though, each food name had a description next to it on the order sheet, so I was able to see what sounded like things I'd like and pick those. After we paid and headed upstairs with our selection, I also had to try out the things they were advertising as 'Greek fries.' I don't know how authentic those were, but I was not going to pass up a chance to eat fries under the excuse of supporting a local Pittsburgh organization.
In the end, we decided on these choices:
The bottom left corner is the spanikopita (fillo pastry filled with feta cheese and spinach), above that is souzoukakia (meatballs in tomato wine sauce), next to that is a dolmathe (herbs and rice in a marinated grape leaf), and of course, those fantastic Greek fries (which were really just fries with feta cheese on top). Oh, and that's my carton of raspberry iced tea (I'm really a Marburger farms kind of girl, but so far, the only place in town I can find that serves those besides my old high school is Wholey's). If I'm going to celebrate, I'm *really* going to celebrate ;)
I really can't say enough good things about this food. That spanikopita was fantastic, and I'm really picky about meatballs, but this one was just melt-in-your-mouth good. The grape leaves were probably my least favorite, but even they were still tasty. And the fries? It was as if they had been snatched from the Potato Patch itself. Oh man.
Thankfully, we were a few miles from home with no car, so we got to walk off some of that meal and get ourselves prepped for Food Splurge #2 of the day.
Last night, we headed up Murray Avenue to Cuzamil, which is a tiny Mexican restaurant and bar that you would probably miss if you weren't walking right past it. And that's a shame, because now that La Fiesta is gone (bless its little soccer-game-supplying soul), this is probably the best Mexican restaurant in the city. The El Campesino on McKnight Road is a close second, but if you're staying within the city limits, Cuzamil is really fantastic.
They were packed (as expected), but the Buccos game was on, and we were feeling quite patient, so we ordered a pitcher of margaritas and set to work on the chips and salsa. The pitcher took a little while to arrive, but it was well worth the wait. The blend was light and delicious, a perfect balance of mix and tequila, so it wasn't overpoweringly sweet.
I had the chicken quesadilla, and my husband had the mahi mahi milanesa (I do not really know what 'milanesa' means, but I can only guess it means something like 'lightly breaded and fried in a batter made of amazing'). All the meals come on those huge plates with refried beans, rice, and salad topped with guac and sour cream, just like La Fiesta used to make. This is quite dangerous, as this place is literally less than half a mile from our house, and I no longer have the metabolism of my early twenties when I lived two blocks down from La Fiesta.
The best news of all? Somehow, our day's worth of gluttony spurred the Buccos to beat the Cubbies. I was going to make a comparison about the underdog Buccos being like the underdog Mexicans in the Battle of Puebla, and get all metaphorical to tie things together at the end here but... really, I'm still just working off that pitcher of margaritas ;)
Also, it's only 2.5 hours until the puck drops, and I've got to get my game face on! Let's Go Pens!!
However, we Pittsburghers are fortunate enough that we can cross over into two ethnic food worlds, as the St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Cathedral runs its Greek Food Festival the first week of May, coinciding nicely with the holiday. And yesterday, I was one of those lucky Pittsburghers who got to experience both.
My husband and I decided to hit up St. Nick's for lunch, and we took advantage of the beautiful weather by walking from our house in Squirrel Hill through Schenley Park into Oakland. It was quite a hike, but the scenery was just unbeatable. Here are two pictures we took from the Panther Hollow Bridge in Schenley.
We had missed lunch by the time we got to St. Nick's, but the a-la carte menu runs straight through the day. We wound our way into the church basement (I could write a whole blog about how I love church basements and their random stages and feel of a Bingo game about to begin) and tenatively approached the food.
I am going to admit this right now: those big rotating meat-slab things at the Point during the Regatta have always made me a little terrified of gyros. Even though I lived within walking distance of the Greek Food Festival for six years, I had never been there, and really, the only Greek food I can think of that I've ever eaten was feta cheese and mini spanikopitas at someone's wedding reception. I was a little intimidated.
Lucky for us though, each food name had a description next to it on the order sheet, so I was able to see what sounded like things I'd like and pick those. After we paid and headed upstairs with our selection, I also had to try out the things they were advertising as 'Greek fries.' I don't know how authentic those were, but I was not going to pass up a chance to eat fries under the excuse of supporting a local Pittsburgh organization.
In the end, we decided on these choices:
The bottom left corner is the spanikopita (fillo pastry filled with feta cheese and spinach), above that is souzoukakia (meatballs in tomato wine sauce), next to that is a dolmathe (herbs and rice in a marinated grape leaf), and of course, those fantastic Greek fries (which were really just fries with feta cheese on top). Oh, and that's my carton of raspberry iced tea (I'm really a Marburger farms kind of girl, but so far, the only place in town I can find that serves those besides my old high school is Wholey's). If I'm going to celebrate, I'm *really* going to celebrate ;)
I really can't say enough good things about this food. That spanikopita was fantastic, and I'm really picky about meatballs, but this one was just melt-in-your-mouth good. The grape leaves were probably my least favorite, but even they were still tasty. And the fries? It was as if they had been snatched from the Potato Patch itself. Oh man.
Thankfully, we were a few miles from home with no car, so we got to walk off some of that meal and get ourselves prepped for Food Splurge #2 of the day.
Last night, we headed up Murray Avenue to Cuzamil, which is a tiny Mexican restaurant and bar that you would probably miss if you weren't walking right past it. And that's a shame, because now that La Fiesta is gone (bless its little soccer-game-supplying soul), this is probably the best Mexican restaurant in the city. The El Campesino on McKnight Road is a close second, but if you're staying within the city limits, Cuzamil is really fantastic.
They were packed (as expected), but the Buccos game was on, and we were feeling quite patient, so we ordered a pitcher of margaritas and set to work on the chips and salsa. The pitcher took a little while to arrive, but it was well worth the wait. The blend was light and delicious, a perfect balance of mix and tequila, so it wasn't overpoweringly sweet.
I had the chicken quesadilla, and my husband had the mahi mahi milanesa (I do not really know what 'milanesa' means, but I can only guess it means something like 'lightly breaded and fried in a batter made of amazing'). All the meals come on those huge plates with refried beans, rice, and salad topped with guac and sour cream, just like La Fiesta used to make. This is quite dangerous, as this place is literally less than half a mile from our house, and I no longer have the metabolism of my early twenties when I lived two blocks down from La Fiesta.
The best news of all? Somehow, our day's worth of gluttony spurred the Buccos to beat the Cubbies. I was going to make a comparison about the underdog Buccos being like the underdog Mexicans in the Battle of Puebla, and get all metaphorical to tie things together at the end here but... really, I'm still just working off that pitcher of margaritas ;)
Also, it's only 2.5 hours until the puck drops, and I've got to get my game face on! Let's Go Pens!!
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Snowpocalypse and Me: Wintertime AWESOMENESS and Hope on the Horizon
If you don't live in Pittsburgh, or if you had another reason to be shut in all weekend and thus haven't looked outside, let me be the first to inform you that we are in the middle of a massive SNOWPOCALYPSE (I am not kidding; the news stations are using this term, as well as 'Snowmageddon,' and quite liberally, I might add). You know what this means, right? I have been bouncing off the walls ever since the first coating of white hit the ground. What I didn't realize was that the snow would ultimately lead me to a great revelation. But I'll get to that ;)
On my Top Billion Favorite Things About Pittsburgh list, somewhere in between 'Fireworks' and 'Folk Festival Potato Pancakes,' there is 'Extreme Pittsburgh Weather.' I've blogged about my love for torrential downpours that result in flooding and the inability to park your car on the Mon Wharf, but now, for the first time, I am enabled to blog about my absolute favorite preciptation, snow.
To fully understand my enjoyment of this snowstorm, I should make it clear that this was my weekend off of work. Insane snowfalls during days when I have to work usually lead to plenty of whining from me, since I can't be home to enjoy the storm. But we'd known since about Monday that a storm was coming this weekend, and that meant that I had about four full days of "You know, there's going to be a BLIZZARD this weekend!" enjoyment. (I do apologize to my friends and coworkers who may be annoyed by this behavior on my part :)
I spent all Friday morning whining about the lack of snow. When was it going to start? Was this another Pittsburgh Extreme Weather Dream Gone Awry? Oh how many times in my life have I been teased by Joe Denardo and Kevin Benson, hoping for feet of snow and waking up to only a dusting? What if this was just another one of those moments? Finally, around 2:00, the flurries began, but it was just too warm for any of it to stick. I was postively heartbroken, so I laid down in bed to read for a bit, and accidentally fell asleep...
By the time I awoke an hour later, the first inch had fallen. Our road was coated, and our back porch and yard had a healthy inch of the beautiful stuff on it. However, I was not ready to get my hopes up yet, so I settled onto the couch to watch a DVR'd SNL special and periodically pull back the curtains to check on the progress.
The snow kept coming. And coming. We decided to abandon our plans of attending First Friday, and instead settled in for a night of snow-watching and gaming. Around 5:30, just before the night began to completely fall, we took little Lucy out back and I took some pictures. The snow was coating everything, but just a light blanket.
By the time I woke up the next morning to take Lucy out again for her 5:30am bathroom break, the snow was so high, she could barely step off the porch into it. When we all awoke for the day around 8am, the Snowpocalypse had fully arrived. The snow was so high that my husband had to dig a little valley for Lucy to walk through, and the snow on each side of the valley was taller than her head. Everything was covered, tree branches and power lines were sagging, and the snow was all the way up to our front and back porches.
Of course, this meant it was time for one of my favorite extreme weather events: obsessively watching WPXI. The news was fantastic - the storm was so severe that Julie Bologna had been forced to sleep at the studio, so not only was our favorite weekend weatherman, Kevin Benson, on duty, we had the Chief Meteorologist present as well! And then, oh then, the moment we had all been waiting for:
In the span of less than thirty seconds, both Julie Bologna and Kevin Benson referenced the Blizzard of '93.
If you didn't live in Pittsburgh in 1993, let me set the stage: It was nearing the Ides of March. We'd all counted winter out. Surely we'd survived, and spring was just around the corner. But oh no, what is this? An oncoming winter storm? WTAE's Joe Denardo, the most famous Pittsburgh weatherman (the man had a theme song, I kid you not), informed us that inches and inches of snow were on the way.
The Blizzard of '93 was the biggest weather adventure this city had seen in ages. The snow fell as fast as two-to-three inches per hour, and it was incredibly windy and freezing. By the end of things, we had well over two feet of snow. School was cancelled almost all week, and the neighborhood kids and I spent the entire time outside in the freezing weather having epic snowball fights and sledding down the gigantic hills behind our houses. We also watched a lot of home movies of beach vacations. For some reason, that was a really popular activity for us on snow days.
Anyway, I mention the Blizzard of '93 because it's important to our city's history, and every time there's a bit of snow involved, it's just a matter of time for the Blizzard to get mentioned. We had a terribly icy day about a month or two back, and the newscasters were all commenting on how it was the biggest shutdown of highways since the Blizzard of '93.
So today, when BOTH of our fantastic weather forecasters dropped the name of the Blizz, it was like my heart leapt a little. My husband moved to the city in 1994, so he never got to experience the magic of the Blizzard of '93 (or, coincidentally, a Buccos winning season), and I was excited for him to see a snowfall of such epic proportions. The resounding decision on WPXI was that this, the Snowpocalypse of 2010, was equal to or greater than the Blizzard of '93 in all ways except for the lack of extreme wind and low temperature.
It was this declaration that lead to my great realization. As we spent the morning running around in the snow with our little puppy, it gradually came to me. If this Snowmageddon was a match to the Blizzard of '93, it could only mean one thing: the curse has been reversed. Pittsburgh has seen a snowfall to equal the epic proportions of THE Blizzard of '93, and therefore, it naturally follows that the Buccos are about to snap out of their 17-season losing streak and go to the World Series.
No, not just go to the World Series. Our Pittsburgh Pirates are going to win the 2010 World Series.
You heard it here first: extreme weather and winning baseball seasons are on the horizon for this fantastic little city. Now if you will excuse me, I must go hop through snow piles and plan vacation days for October.
On my Top Billion Favorite Things About Pittsburgh list, somewhere in between 'Fireworks' and 'Folk Festival Potato Pancakes,' there is 'Extreme Pittsburgh Weather.' I've blogged about my love for torrential downpours that result in flooding and the inability to park your car on the Mon Wharf, but now, for the first time, I am enabled to blog about my absolute favorite preciptation, snow.
To fully understand my enjoyment of this snowstorm, I should make it clear that this was my weekend off of work. Insane snowfalls during days when I have to work usually lead to plenty of whining from me, since I can't be home to enjoy the storm. But we'd known since about Monday that a storm was coming this weekend, and that meant that I had about four full days of "You know, there's going to be a BLIZZARD this weekend!" enjoyment. (I do apologize to my friends and coworkers who may be annoyed by this behavior on my part :)
I spent all Friday morning whining about the lack of snow. When was it going to start? Was this another Pittsburgh Extreme Weather Dream Gone Awry? Oh how many times in my life have I been teased by Joe Denardo and Kevin Benson, hoping for feet of snow and waking up to only a dusting? What if this was just another one of those moments? Finally, around 2:00, the flurries began, but it was just too warm for any of it to stick. I was postively heartbroken, so I laid down in bed to read for a bit, and accidentally fell asleep...
By the time I awoke an hour later, the first inch had fallen. Our road was coated, and our back porch and yard had a healthy inch of the beautiful stuff on it. However, I was not ready to get my hopes up yet, so I settled onto the couch to watch a DVR'd SNL special and periodically pull back the curtains to check on the progress.
The snow kept coming. And coming. We decided to abandon our plans of attending First Friday, and instead settled in for a night of snow-watching and gaming. Around 5:30, just before the night began to completely fall, we took little Lucy out back and I took some pictures. The snow was coating everything, but just a light blanket.
By the time I woke up the next morning to take Lucy out again for her 5:30am bathroom break, the snow was so high, she could barely step off the porch into it. When we all awoke for the day around 8am, the Snowpocalypse had fully arrived. The snow was so high that my husband had to dig a little valley for Lucy to walk through, and the snow on each side of the valley was taller than her head. Everything was covered, tree branches and power lines were sagging, and the snow was all the way up to our front and back porches.
Of course, this meant it was time for one of my favorite extreme weather events: obsessively watching WPXI. The news was fantastic - the storm was so severe that Julie Bologna had been forced to sleep at the studio, so not only was our favorite weekend weatherman, Kevin Benson, on duty, we had the Chief Meteorologist present as well! And then, oh then, the moment we had all been waiting for:
In the span of less than thirty seconds, both Julie Bologna and Kevin Benson referenced the Blizzard of '93.
If you didn't live in Pittsburgh in 1993, let me set the stage: It was nearing the Ides of March. We'd all counted winter out. Surely we'd survived, and spring was just around the corner. But oh no, what is this? An oncoming winter storm? WTAE's Joe Denardo, the most famous Pittsburgh weatherman (the man had a theme song, I kid you not), informed us that inches and inches of snow were on the way.
The Blizzard of '93 was the biggest weather adventure this city had seen in ages. The snow fell as fast as two-to-three inches per hour, and it was incredibly windy and freezing. By the end of things, we had well over two feet of snow. School was cancelled almost all week, and the neighborhood kids and I spent the entire time outside in the freezing weather having epic snowball fights and sledding down the gigantic hills behind our houses. We also watched a lot of home movies of beach vacations. For some reason, that was a really popular activity for us on snow days.
Anyway, I mention the Blizzard of '93 because it's important to our city's history, and every time there's a bit of snow involved, it's just a matter of time for the Blizzard to get mentioned. We had a terribly icy day about a month or two back, and the newscasters were all commenting on how it was the biggest shutdown of highways since the Blizzard of '93.
So today, when BOTH of our fantastic weather forecasters dropped the name of the Blizz, it was like my heart leapt a little. My husband moved to the city in 1994, so he never got to experience the magic of the Blizzard of '93 (or, coincidentally, a Buccos winning season), and I was excited for him to see a snowfall of such epic proportions. The resounding decision on WPXI was that this, the Snowpocalypse of 2010, was equal to or greater than the Blizzard of '93 in all ways except for the lack of extreme wind and low temperature.
It was this declaration that lead to my great realization. As we spent the morning running around in the snow with our little puppy, it gradually came to me. If this Snowmageddon was a match to the Blizzard of '93, it could only mean one thing: the curse has been reversed. Pittsburgh has seen a snowfall to equal the epic proportions of THE Blizzard of '93, and therefore, it naturally follows that the Buccos are about to snap out of their 17-season losing streak and go to the World Series.
No, not just go to the World Series. Our Pittsburgh Pirates are going to win the 2010 World Series.
You heard it here first: extreme weather and winning baseball seasons are on the horizon for this fantastic little city. Now if you will excuse me, I must go hop through snow piles and plan vacation days for October.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Good On You, Gallery Crawl
Last night, we attended the first Downtown Gallery Crawl of 2010. In Pittsburgh, there are two main types of Gallery Crawls: the Cultural District every-so-often ones, and the monthly Unblurred First Friday ones. The Cultural District Gallery Crawls are held just where you'd think they'd be, spanning the Downtown galleries and event spaces, and covering a lot of the same ground as the First Night happenings. First Fridays, or Unblurred, are held on the opposite end of Penn Avenue, spanning the galleries and restaurants of Garfield from end to end.
Typically, it's an easy decision of which crawl is best - First Fridays happen more regularly, and this (plus their location in Garfield) makes them a little less hectic and crowded. It's easier to get a decent glass of wine, and the galleries all serve snacks in addition to the alcohol. The Cultrual District crawls happen immediately after the workweek ends on Fridays, and if you don't get there early, all the galleries are going to be out of food and drink, and you're going to be standing around for ages trying to see any of the art.
However, we decided to hit the Cultural District Gallery Crawl to check it out, and I can say that we had an honest-to-goodness decent time. It started out slow - we were at Wood Street Galleries first, and they never seem to have anything truly interesting - but gradually improved as the night went on.
The highlights: Future Tenant's installation DO.YOU.ND3R5T@ND? Communication Through Technology. I was a little slow coming around to this when we first got into the gallery, but the more time I spent looking at the exhibit, the more I liked it. As it sounds, it was art focusing on technology that involves communication, from the soup cans on a string to IPhones and hands-free phones (probably my favorite piece - a painting of human-like birds on a telephone wire wearing headsets). It also featured a video of two dancers projected onto the wall, expressing non-verbal communication and lack of communication in relationships.
707 Penn Gallery: Particulate Behaviours. Some of this was a bit weird, mainly the two works of strips of paper on the wall that were meant to be 'activated' by pulling away the strip and allowing colored dust to fall to the ground. However, I really liked one part of the exhibit where you had to go into a little dark room that had a ceiling covered in clear globes of different sizes that reflected light. I'm all about light-art.
709 Penn Gallery: Adam Welch's A Few Objects on a Theme of Contradiction. This exhibit really fell flat for me. I'm going to just admit the truth: I didn't get it. The main piece when you entered the gallery was a dildo on a jackhammer that pounded against a piece of flat metal. Totally didn't get it. Sorry, call me a philistine, but I just don't understand. We didn't stick around too long in this gallery.
901 Penn Ave: Matthew Conboy's Pittsburgh Project. This one was probably the most interesting to me, as it was an exhibit of Pittsburgh photography, comparing work done by W. Eugene Smith from 1955-1956 with photographs taken in the past few years by Conboy. I thought the concept was fascinating, although the photographs themselves were a little lacking (this gallery and artist do get bonus points for the wine and snacks though!). One of my favorite things is comparative photography (this is a term I have made up), for example, a set of photos showing the same stretch of a city street in the early 1900s and then in present day. I really think there are so many possibilities with this type of project, and I was glad to see that other people out there have an interest in this same sort of thing that I do.
Northside Urban Pathways Gallery. This is a charter school (grades 6-12) located right in the midst of the Cultural District that always hosts a steel drum band and a bake sale. We checked out the bake sale, but happened to be stopping by between steel drum performances, so we just wandered around to look at the kids' projects that were on display. My favorite was the HIV/AIDS awareness project on display. I believe the boy who did it was named David, and I just thought he did a really great job explaining on a high school reading level the importance of getting tested, being safe, and spreading the word. I swore I wasn't going to ever get political in this blog, but I really appreciated his pamphlet on how teens and young adults should approach abstinence and safe sex, and also how these two things can be very much related. It didn't get religious or political, just very down-to-earth and common-sense. We need more of this kind of awareness in high schools, particularly our city schools. Good job. :)
Material Witness Showroom. This could be the totally wrong name of the place, but it's all I can find. We stopped in this gallery on First Night, but a bit of the art had changed, so we came back for a second round. The gallery is half-furniture (awesome, wooden furniture and fireplace-free active-fires) and half-art (this time paintings by Rachel Hallas, which were beautiful). It was a really nice atmosphere to hang out and relax for a little while, and enjoy some cheese, grapes, and delicious mini muffins. Yet again, you get a bonus point for feeding us while we enjoyed your art!
PA Culinary Institute. Just had to mention them again, since I stopped in for another brownie. They were just regular fudge brownies this time, and not the peanut butter and cashew ones of First Night, but man oh man were they good. Yum!
All in all, it was quite a good time, and I'm thoroughly proud of the Cultural District for keeping up with First Fridays. There isn't much that'll prevent me from going to any free Pittsburgh event, but it's nice to get the most out of my visit as I can.
The night was also noteworthy because my student ID that has given me free reign to PAT busses since 2001 expired on December 31st (your guess is as good as mine how it was in-date a full 2.5 years after I graduated), and this gallery crawl was the first time I've ever had to pay cash for a bus. Did you know that it costs $2.00 to take the bus?? And apparently, if we'd had to transfer, it would have cost even more! I'm mildly outraged by this. At Pitt, we paid something like $55 a semester for 'transportation fees' which included unlimited use of the PAT system, the inclines, the T, our Pitt busses, and VanCall. There must be a way around this... Anyone want me to TA their class for a free Pitt ID? I can do science or English, I promise!
Things to work on... :)
Typically, it's an easy decision of which crawl is best - First Fridays happen more regularly, and this (plus their location in Garfield) makes them a little less hectic and crowded. It's easier to get a decent glass of wine, and the galleries all serve snacks in addition to the alcohol. The Cultrual District crawls happen immediately after the workweek ends on Fridays, and if you don't get there early, all the galleries are going to be out of food and drink, and you're going to be standing around for ages trying to see any of the art.
However, we decided to hit the Cultural District Gallery Crawl to check it out, and I can say that we had an honest-to-goodness decent time. It started out slow - we were at Wood Street Galleries first, and they never seem to have anything truly interesting - but gradually improved as the night went on.
The highlights: Future Tenant's installation DO.YOU.ND3R5T@ND? Communication Through Technology. I was a little slow coming around to this when we first got into the gallery, but the more time I spent looking at the exhibit, the more I liked it. As it sounds, it was art focusing on technology that involves communication, from the soup cans on a string to IPhones and hands-free phones (probably my favorite piece - a painting of human-like birds on a telephone wire wearing headsets). It also featured a video of two dancers projected onto the wall, expressing non-verbal communication and lack of communication in relationships.
707 Penn Gallery: Particulate Behaviours. Some of this was a bit weird, mainly the two works of strips of paper on the wall that were meant to be 'activated' by pulling away the strip and allowing colored dust to fall to the ground. However, I really liked one part of the exhibit where you had to go into a little dark room that had a ceiling covered in clear globes of different sizes that reflected light. I'm all about light-art.
709 Penn Gallery: Adam Welch's A Few Objects on a Theme of Contradiction. This exhibit really fell flat for me. I'm going to just admit the truth: I didn't get it. The main piece when you entered the gallery was a dildo on a jackhammer that pounded against a piece of flat metal. Totally didn't get it. Sorry, call me a philistine, but I just don't understand. We didn't stick around too long in this gallery.
901 Penn Ave: Matthew Conboy's Pittsburgh Project. This one was probably the most interesting to me, as it was an exhibit of Pittsburgh photography, comparing work done by W. Eugene Smith from 1955-1956 with photographs taken in the past few years by Conboy. I thought the concept was fascinating, although the photographs themselves were a little lacking (this gallery and artist do get bonus points for the wine and snacks though!). One of my favorite things is comparative photography (this is a term I have made up), for example, a set of photos showing the same stretch of a city street in the early 1900s and then in present day. I really think there are so many possibilities with this type of project, and I was glad to see that other people out there have an interest in this same sort of thing that I do.
Northside Urban Pathways Gallery. This is a charter school (grades 6-12) located right in the midst of the Cultural District that always hosts a steel drum band and a bake sale. We checked out the bake sale, but happened to be stopping by between steel drum performances, so we just wandered around to look at the kids' projects that were on display. My favorite was the HIV/AIDS awareness project on display. I believe the boy who did it was named David, and I just thought he did a really great job explaining on a high school reading level the importance of getting tested, being safe, and spreading the word. I swore I wasn't going to ever get political in this blog, but I really appreciated his pamphlet on how teens and young adults should approach abstinence and safe sex, and also how these two things can be very much related. It didn't get religious or political, just very down-to-earth and common-sense. We need more of this kind of awareness in high schools, particularly our city schools. Good job. :)
Material Witness Showroom. This could be the totally wrong name of the place, but it's all I can find. We stopped in this gallery on First Night, but a bit of the art had changed, so we came back for a second round. The gallery is half-furniture (awesome, wooden furniture and fireplace-free active-fires) and half-art (this time paintings by Rachel Hallas, which were beautiful). It was a really nice atmosphere to hang out and relax for a little while, and enjoy some cheese, grapes, and delicious mini muffins. Yet again, you get a bonus point for feeding us while we enjoyed your art!
PA Culinary Institute. Just had to mention them again, since I stopped in for another brownie. They were just regular fudge brownies this time, and not the peanut butter and cashew ones of First Night, but man oh man were they good. Yum!
All in all, it was quite a good time, and I'm thoroughly proud of the Cultural District for keeping up with First Fridays. There isn't much that'll prevent me from going to any free Pittsburgh event, but it's nice to get the most out of my visit as I can.
The night was also noteworthy because my student ID that has given me free reign to PAT busses since 2001 expired on December 31st (your guess is as good as mine how it was in-date a full 2.5 years after I graduated), and this gallery crawl was the first time I've ever had to pay cash for a bus. Did you know that it costs $2.00 to take the bus?? And apparently, if we'd had to transfer, it would have cost even more! I'm mildly outraged by this. At Pitt, we paid something like $55 a semester for 'transportation fees' which included unlimited use of the PAT system, the inclines, the T, our Pitt busses, and VanCall. There must be a way around this... Anyone want me to TA their class for a free Pitt ID? I can do science or English, I promise!
Things to work on... :)
Thursday, January 14, 2010
First Night
Apologies again for the hiatus. This time, my excuse is our lovely little pooch Lucy. We just adopted her, and she's a very cuddle-starved baby mutt who is taking up all of my time. I may not be a kid person, but owning a puppy has certainly solidified the fact that I'm a dog person. She's my little sweet angel doggy. I will surely post some pictures of her at some point, but first, I wanted to do my long-overdue post about First Night (apparently now with a sweet little red dog on my lap).
For the second year in a row, my husband and I decided to attend Pittsburgh's First Night with another one of our couple-friends on New Year's Eve. For those of you who are unfamiliar, First Night is an all-ages event held downtown on New Year's Eve, culminating with our version of the Times Square New Year's Eve Ball Drop. Because we're Yinzers and thus have to do everything our own way, our ball goes up, instead of dropping.
The city shuts down most of Penn Avenue downtown and puts up fire barrels on the street corners to keep you warm as you wander around and look at the events. This year was relatively warm (in the 30s), but a light snow/rain was falling the whole time, making it seem somehow colder than last year's below-zero windchill. The majority of the events are inside, but you do spend a good deal of the evening outside traveling between exhibits.
At last year's event, we'd been back in Pittsburgh for just over two months, and the excitement that I felt wandering around First Night was just electric: I was finally back with my people, back on the correct coast and in the proper time zone. Every time I heard a Yinzer accent or saw Steeler hats and jackets my heart jumped a little. Even the sound of the sax guy who can't play "Here We Go Steelers" in tune brought a tear to my eye. I was home.
So this year, being fully re-citizened to the 'Burgh, and now even being a homeowner within the city limits, I wasn't expecting the same kind of feeling. I was looking forward to the night, but I wasn't planning on feeling extra alive or hopeful or anything like that.
So thanks, my city and my neighbors, for continuing to surprise me :)
We started the night off with dinner at the Sonoma Grille. Neither of us had been before, and being the Central Coast wine country fanatics that we are, we were really excited to check it out. It was absolutely worth the price. I swear to you, the meal was an entire experience. If you go, I highly recommend getting the tapas platter, just so you can check out a variety of delicious flavors in small portions. And the wine? We picked a Paso Robles bottle that was so delicious we're planning on visiting the winery when we're in the area next month on vacation.
With that excellent start to the night, it was off to take in as much as we could of what the city had to offer. Probably my only complaint about First Night is that there is just SO much to see that unless you are very quick and working on a pre-determined schedule, it's basically impossible to see everything you want to see. I'll just touch on a few of the things we loved.
The Pillow Project's Present. Perfect. Tense. The Pillow Project is a dance company headed by Pearlann Porter, who is one of the most incredible choreographers of the present moment. I'm a little biased, maybe, because I used to take her class at Point Park, but her style is so innovative and the way her pieces have been experimenting with light recently is just fascinating to me (we also took in her piece in December at Dance Alloy, The Itch of the Key, which was incredible). This performance featured a male and female dancer behind the glass window of an otherwise-empty shop, dancing and interacting around two squares of light. It was set to Radiohead and Adele songs, and just very creative and enjoyable.
The Pennsylvania Culinary Institute. We made a point of stopping here after a tasty snack last year, and we were not disappointed at all. They had several different soups to choose from, hot chocolate and apple cider, and my personal favorite, brownies. This year's brownies had peanut butter icing with cashews. Sweet and salty and delicious, and only $1.50. I love that place.
WYEP Studios - Good Night, States. As I'm highly allergic to hipsters (those eight months we lived on the border of Lawrenceville were very tough on me), I'd been kind of avoiding ever seeing the Good Night, States, despite the good press they get locally. I guess I just assumed they were 'one of those hipster bands' whose crowd at a show makes me want to avoid the bar at all costs. However, the couple we were with wanted to check them out, so I decided to give them a chance. I was honestly pleasantly surprised. They've got a great sound, which is very catchy and not bored or whiny. Lots of instruments, but all of them have a unique sound and contribute to the songs. They reminded me a lot of one of my favorite little acts, Norfolk and Western. I could tell that these were actually talented musicians, and I think we will definitely check them out again around town.
Fireworks. I seriously wanted to do an all-fireworks blog. The way we Yinzers love our fireworks is something almost fanatical. The fireworks were set off between Fifth Avenue Place and the old Hornes building, and it was a little scary in those tight quarters, but still cool.
Overall, we had a great time. We didn't get to check out as much stuff as we would have liked to just because of time constraints, but the things we saw were really neat. I know it's a year away, but I really recommend everyone checking out First Night 2011 at the end of December.
And now, it's off to tend to the little red dog and get some sleep before my weekend of work begins. Here are a few parting pictures from First Night:
a resolution sculpture titled "Welcome Love" by Kyle Fischer, woven with ribbons of people's New Year's resolutions
Penn Avenue is closed down to traffic so First Night attendees can walk up and down the street
fireworks above the old Hornes building at the start of the new year
Friday, November 13, 2009
The Friday Five - Part One
In an effort to encourage more regular blogging, and to give me something to ramble on about, I have decided to begin a weekly column called 'The Friday Five' (theoretically to be done on Fridays, to keep the name more than just clever alliteration). Every Friday, I'll address a Top Five of something Pittsburgh related, or, if I'm in a bummy mood, a Bottom Five.
Today, in an effort to remind our poor, injured Pittsburgh Penguins of the greatness they possessed last season, my Friday Five topic is: Top Five Greatest Moments of the 2009 Stanley Cup Playoff Run.
#5: Orange Crushed and Shushed:
In Round One of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, the Penguins faced one of our arch enemies, the Philadelphia Flyers. Those of us who have been following the 'Guins for years understand this rivalry (admittedly, the words 'Keith Primeau' still tend to make me throw up in my mouth a little), and this year, it was especially important for us to flatten their playoff hopes and dreams: defeating them in the 2008 Eastern Conference Finals was what led us to our soul-draining loss of the Cup to the Red Wings, and just a few weeks before the 2009 regular season ended, we were not even contenders in the make-it-to-the-playoffs race, much less the actually-bring-home-Lord-Stanley one.
So, of course, our hot-streak Pens tore into the first round with a 2-0 lead over the Flyers after playing on home ice to start the series. We split victories in the next two games with them, but were poised to take it all away if only we could win that coveted fourth in game five... which we wound up losing in a pitiful shutout, 3-0.
Two days later, we were back in Philly, set to finish the Flyers off once and for all. Unfortunately, our game play was more than a bit lacking, and the Flyers scored two goals within a minute of each other to take the lead going into the first intermission. Just four minutes into the second period, Philly scored again on a Power Play opportunity off a Crosby penalty, putting us down 3-0 again. The frustration was obviously getting to the guys, and the threat of a Game Seven looming on the horizon was intimidating. But then, in what seemed at the start to be a reckless idea, our very own Superstar picked a fight with the Flyers' much-larger Daniel Carcillo. Immediately, the commentators jumped on the poor decision - you're down 3-0, why start a useless fight, this is just the Pens reacting badly to being scoreless in five consecutive periods...
If you've seen the fight, you know how it goes: Max didn't exactly come out on top while the fists were flying, but as he was being led to the penalty box, amid overwhelming screams from the Orange Crush fans, he looked up, helmet askew, playoff beard already mangy, and put his finger to his lips, shaking his head and shushing the entire city of Philadelphia.
Fourteen seconds later into play, Evgeni Malkin sent the puck to Ruslan Fedetenko, who put it nicely in the net, and the rest is history: we scored five unanswered goals to knock the Flyers out of the playoff race and send us on to Round Two. All that from one little shush :)
#4: LeTang Saves the Day:
Round Two was off to a rough start. Playing another one of our classic playoff rivals, the Washington Capitals, we lost both of the opening games on their ice. It was like Young Hockey Stars on Ice, Geno and Sid out there sharing the same playing ground as Alex Ovechkin (better known to the sign-wielding fans of the Igloo as "Oven-Chicken"), and the sports stories each day were debates over which of the three was truly the best. With our poor start, it looked like we were about to get it handed to us by the Other Russian.
I mention this Game Three with a special sense of affection: I came home from the gym the morning of to a grinning husband who had managed to score Igloo Club seats to surprise me. What surprised me more was the price: $500. With as poorly as we'd played the previous two games, I was a nervous wreck that we were going to be throwing away our home-buying deposit money on an almost-elimination. How on earth could we possibly pull it off?
But, I knew one thing was certain: if we sold the tickets and skipped the game, we would almost definitely win. My grandmother was, after all, a Murphy, and the application of Murphy's Law is a genetic trait that never misses a generation. So I agreed to go, decked out in my new Miro Satan t-shirt on the rainiest day of the spring.
After standing outside of will-call for twenty minutes in the torrential downpour, we were finally inside, now turned from soaking wet fans into total ice cubes - three rows behind the ice is a great view, but DAMN is it cold! I was still ecstatic, as Miro was finally back in the lineup, replacing a flagging Petr Sykora.
But as the game began, our spirits began to flop. The Caps took an early lead in the first period. It looked to be more of the same, but halfway through the second, it was again Fedetenko who took the initiative and got the scoring started, on an assist from LeTang and Max. In the third, amid cheers of "MVP", Geno gave us the lead for the first time with a Power Play goal. It looked like we were going to get our money's worth with a win, when suddenly, with less than two minutes to go, the Caps evened the score.
The truth is, from that moment on, I think I may have taken approximately three breaths. I'd gotten a cup of coffee from the Dunkin' Donuts stand inside the Arena, and all I could do was hover over it and try to remember to inhale and exhale. Regulation ended, and we headed into a full intermission wherein I could barely even make conversation with my husband, I was so nervous.
I sat as patiently as I could, the entire arena almost silent through the overtime period. 17,132 pairs of eyes were locked on the puck, waiting to see who was going to slip it behind the opposing goalie first. Finally, at just over eleven minutes into the period, it happened. I don't even think I saw where the puck went, I think I just saw LeTang's arms raise, and I knew it: we'd scored, and we'd taken down the Caps. The win gave us enough to push on and get three straight: although we stretched the series to seven games, we defeated the Caps in a crushing 6-2 victory, moving on to the Eastern Conference Finals, and proving to the hockey world that there is only room for two young hockey icons, and there's only room for them on the Pens.
#3: The Sweep:
The first two series were so excruciatingly long and stressful, you would have thought you were watching the Steelers and not the Pens (I'm serious, if anyone wants to explain why our sports heroes feel the need to keep us on the edge of our seats constantly... well, I'm listening :). And then came the Eastern Conference Finals, against the Carolina Hurricanes.
This series was an interesting match for several reasons. First, we had split the four game series in the regular season with them (one of our losses being the only one I saw live in the 2008/2009 season). Secondly, former Steelers coach Bill Cowher was now suddenly a Hurricanes fan (and of course, Ronnie Francis, a former 'Guin and North Hills resident, is their coach). And then, of course, was all the 'Staal on Staal' action.
I understand that it's exciting for brothers to be playing against each other in the Eastern Conference Finals and all, but quite literally, if you'd taken a shot every time an announcer mentioned 'Staal on Staal,' or 'the brothers facing off,' or every time they showed footage of them playing hockey on the pond outside their house as children (and I'm not kidding, there's a drinking game for this purpose), you'd have alcohol poisoning by the end of the first game. The announcers eat this stuff up :)
So, after a very close win in Game 1 (3-2), we were set for another six- or seven- game series, after which we'd be so exhausted we wouldn't even care that we were about to kick the pants off of the Red Wings (ha). But then, as if Badger Bob himself had pulled some strings in Heaven, we swept the 'Canes after three more easy-peasy wins, where we beat them by a margin of at least 3 goals each game. It was time to rejoice: we were headed back to the Finals to take that which was rightfully ours.
#2: The Save:
Game Seven, Penguins v. Red Wings, in the house that hockey built, Joe Louis Arena. In a final game we didn't think we'd be seeing (we'd started the series down by two games, as we had in the previous year), we had managed to secure a 2-0 lead with goals in the second period by Superstar himself, Max Talbot. We were holding down the lead well into the third period, starting to get that 'maybe we'll win this thing after all' feeling that we'd all gotten in the final, hard-fought games against Philly and Washington.
Then, with just over six minutes remaining, Detroit's Jonathan Ericsson cut the lead in half. Panic set in, but we managed to hold things down until the final two minutes. You could see each of the Pens watching the clock between plays and while they were on the bench, willing the seconds to tick away before they got into any trouble.
With 1:12 remaining on the clock, the Wings pulled goalie Chris Osgood and brought out the extra attacker. Fleury stood tall in the goal, facing shot after shot after shot, and standing up to each of them. Then, with less than five seconds remaining, Fleury, in the top left of the goal crease, makes a pad save with his right leg, pushing the puck out to Nicklas Lidstrom. Lidstrom easily centers the rebound and shoots it, with plenty of net space open behind Fleury. Every single Penguins fan has their heart in their throat for one moment...
And Fleury sticks his body out, arms tucked neatly at his sides, falling onto his right shoulder on the ice, the puck hitting his chest and falling away harmlessly out of reach of the goal. The horn sounds, and time has expired. With Fleury's magnificent save, the Penguins had beat the Detroit Red Wings and won the Stanley Cup. You can watch the majesty here.
#1: Lifting the Cup:
Which brings us to our final greatest moment of the 2009 Stanley Cup Playoffs run: Sid lifting the Cup, and Geno lifting the Conn Smythe Trophy. I was so excited during these moments that I took a picture of my TV. My husband and I were jumping around the house, calling our parents, running up and down the hallway yelling 'OMG WE WON THE CUP!!!' (okay, maybe I was the only one doing that), and then, we took a moment to sit calmly in front of the TV and see these two greats accept the best awards they could hope to get. The look on both of their faces, well, you know how I cry every time I see footage of the Immaculate Reception? It's like that. Every time I see a picture of Sid hoisting Lord Stanley, or Geno tilting his cheek up to the side of his MVP trophy, I get a little teary-eyed, like these were the boys I've watched from their rookie seasons, finally bringing Lord Stanley to his rightful home in the City of Steel.
Ahhh, even typing this now is making my heart feel warm. Pens, this city loves you, and we'll stand by you while everyone's recovering, and we'll be right here cheering you on once the whole team is healthy and back to business!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
On Heartbreak... I Mean Baseball
(author's note: I apologize for the huge amount of time between posts - we were buying a house, and then painting it, and then moving into it... but I'm back now!)
On the day after a crushing Steelers loss (I am considering taking Dick Lebeau out of my will after that horrific lack of defense in the fourth quarter!), I have chosen to reflect on another thing that breaks my heart - one that, in fact, has been breaking my heart for approximately seventeen years. You got it: it's our Pittsburgh Pirates and their inability to have a winning season since the year my husband moved to the Steel City. (Not that he has anything to do with their failures... I think ;)
I've been a baseball fan on and off pretty much since birth. I've been able to get away with being a casual fan for some years of my life because in Pittsburgh, being a Buccos fan is not quite the essential thing that being a Steeler fan is. People will forgive you, for example, if you forget who Jim Leyland is. If you were to enter Posvar Hall on Pitt's campus for the first time and ask why there's a home plate in the middle of the ground, you would get a reasonable explanation and a look of, 'it's okay, you weren't born yet, you couldn't be expected to know what Forbes Field was.' Never would a lack of knowledge or interest in Pittsburgh baseball get you banned from the Thanksgiving dinner table such as would, say, admitting you have no clue who caught the Immaculate Reception.
I seriously recommitted myself to baseball in the spring of 2006. My husband and I had just met and started dating, and one of our first dates was a baseball game - these fantastic seats one row behind the opposing teams's dugout, right along the first base line. It was the first time I saw Ian Snell pitching, and despite his shoddy record, he quickly became my favorite (of the several games we attended that season, he pitched two and got the win in both). We still had both Wilsons at that time, Jason Bay and Freddie Sanchez, a slew of new players that showed promise, and of course, one very old player (unlike the man himself, aging Jeromy Burnitz jokes never get old!).
From that first game on, we were devoted to our Buccos. M and I were still in college, and more than a little broke, so we grabbed up free tickets whenever anyone we knew was giving them out. If we couldn't be there in person, we were watching the game on TV. For the first time in my college career, I upgraded my cable package so we could get FSN and access to almost all of the baseball action. I even listened on the radio if I was working and couldn't watch. We made it to enough games that we felt as though the can't-play-'Here-We-Go-Steelers'-in-tune saxophone guy on the Clemente Bridge was a part of our family.
In fact, in 2007, when we were preparing for our move out west, I got an automated phone call from Jason Bay and Jack Wilson, telling me just how very much they wanted me to be a season ticket holder. The call brought a tear to my eye - how much I was going to miss the fireworks after a home run, disputing ball v. strike on every questionable pitch, watching endless replays of the single amazing diving catch of a game, and evaluating which pair of baseball pants was the most flattering on each player! What would I do, three-thousand miles away from the Pirate Parrot, Oliver Onion, and the FSN crew's endless discussions of pie and argyle socks??
I decided that rather than keep up with the Pirates from afar, which would only bring me a sadness in my heart, I would become a Dodgers fan. What I didn't realize was that despite the fact that the Dodgers had a winning team, an even lower percentage of Los Angeles citizens cared about them than the percentage of Yinzers who followed the Pirates. I tried, in vain, to pay attention to the local team, but in reality, the only Dodgers game I made it to was their showdown in April 2008 against the Pirates. Our Buccos lost, of course, but M and I had the pleasure of listening in on the conversation of the displaced steel workers behind us, who were debating whether or not they'd ever be able to move back to the land of black and gold (the end result was that while they missed watching Steeler games with lunch instead of breakfast, they more importantly did not miss shoveling their driveways).
When we came back to Pittsburgh, I was determined to be a season ticket holder. The moment tickets to the home opener went on sale, I was logging in to the Pirates' website and purchasing ours. We had seats in row Y. When we got to the game on the rainy early afternoon of April 13th, I thought, "Well, at least it's not the very last row!" After climbing to our seats, we realized that there is no row Z.
The Buccos won that game - we crushed the Houston Astros, 7-0. Our starting pitcher, Zach Duke, pitched a full game, and Adam Laroche had a home run. The season was looking bright! We were feeling on top of the world - the Steelers had won the Superbowl, the Pens were headed for the playoffs, and the Buccos were finally going to have a winning season!
If you don't live in Pittsburgh or follow baseball, I will tell you how this story ends: the Pirates trade my two favorite players in a single move (shortstop Jack Wilson and pitcher Ian Snell) and our other star player (Freddie Sanchez) later that day. In the interviews on the radio, Wilson and Sanchez were both close to tears. Freddie was interviewed first, before he knew he was also being traded, and he said something along the lines of, 'I don't know what I'm going to do without my best friend with me anymore.' Later, they interviewed Jack, and he was heartbroken, talking about how much he loved this city and had wanted this team to really turn it around.
Since they've left, and despite the replacement of Nate McClouth with an even better outfielder, Andrew McCutcheon, the Buccos have gone 16-38. It is quite possible that, after the remaining seven games, we will have lost 100 games or more this season.
So, the question remaining is, why do I insist on keeping the love alive in this abusive relationship with the Pittsburgh Pirates? Why do I get pumped up at spring training each year, if all they're going to do is give me another losing season (we're at seventeen in a row, for those of you keeping score at home)? Even after my two favorite players get sent away in a single move, why do I put myself through the torment of learning to love the new guys on the team?
Why? Because I'm a Pittsburgher. I'm a Pittsburgher, and that means I'm stuck with the Pirates, good or bad. For better or worse, this is my baseball team. Like that alcoholic friend who only seems to call you when she's down and out, but once in awhile, the two of you take on the town and have a fantastic time, I can never just turn away a 3am drunk dial from my Pirates. Who knows, they may score seven runs in a single inning to come back and take the game away from their opponents! And yes, they may go through three pitchers in the first five innings, but the very next game, McCutcheon could make a leaping grab to save the game in the top of the ninth! And Matt Capps could blow a double-digit lead, but Jesse Chavez... wait. Nevermind. Poor example. :)
My point is this: through the good and the bad, I've got to be there for my Buccos. We were there for our Penguins in 2002 when they went 27-44-6, and they repaid us by bringing home Lord Stanley in 2009. We stood by our Steelers when Neil O'Donnell threw the game-ending interception in Superbowl XXX, and they've since won two more Lombardi trophies. And maybe, just maybe, if I sit in the stands and yell 'Believe in yourselves!' loud enough to my Pittsburgh Pirates, they'll hear, and suddenly remember how to play baseball, and then we will really, honestly, truly, for certainly, be the City of Champions.
(I just hope it happens before I'm as old as Jeromy Burnitz.)
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