I'm going to jog your memory about the good old days. But let me warn you before you get comfy, it's not a happy memory. In fact, this may be painful. Some of you may not even remember this game. I, myself, was only 9 years old. I'll put it this way, if there were a gravestone for Pirate baseball this would be chiseled as the official date that the Bucs died. Game seven of the ALCS against the Braves, the exact game that it all fell apart. The beginning of the end, and 18 years of futility. It's still as hard to swallow as a warm Iron City, but here goes. Let's pick it up in the 9th, Pirates leading 2-0, and believe it or not youngsters, three outs from the World Series. Hard to believe now that the Pirates and the World Series were ever in the same sentence. Of course it's hard to believe when you hear Pirates leading 2-0 nowadays. But anyway, 2-0 Buccos, bottom of the 9th, and Doug Drabek on the bump going for a masterful complete game. He had harnessed enough stache/mullet power to throw 120 pitches through 8 innings, but was left in for the 9th because of the bullpen weakness of the Bucs. The bullpen was so bad in fact that manager Jim Leyland let him bat in the top of the 9th, he struck out. So Drabek tows the rubber in the 9th with a 92% win expectancy, yes there is a stat for that too. First up for the Braves was Terry Pendelton who, for those who remember, was basically a short and fat third baseman. Pendelton doubled into the right field corner, not a good start, but hey, we're up by two, no reason to panic. Next up, David Justice, a dangerous hitter. He hits a hard but routine grounder to reliable second baseman Jose Lind, who only had six errors all season. Chico boots it, are you kidding me? First and third, no outs. Drabek is rattled and he walks Sid Bream on 4 pitches, yes THAT Sid Bream. Drabek out, side-armer Stan Belinda in... Finally. His first batter is Ron Gant, skinny Ron, not ripped Ron. Skinny Ron hits a fly ball to left, run scores. First and second one out, 2-1 Pirates. We're still OK here... until catcher Damon Barryhill walks to load the bases again. And for my money's worth ball four was a strike. Now Bobby Cox pinch hits Brian Hunter for Raffy Belliard. He pops up to second base. So here it is, bases juiced, 2 outs, game seven to go to the World Series. We're one out away from retribution because we lost game seven to the Braves the year before. Fransisco Cabrera comes to the plate for only his 13th at bat of the season. He wasn't even supposed to be on the playoff roster. He takes two balls, then Belinda grooves a fastball and Cabrera pounds it... foul. Belinda comes back with another heater and Franky doesn't miss this one. He hammers a basehit to a lanky, skinny left fielder by the name of Barry Bonds, who is about to touch the baseball for the last time as a Bucco. The throw to the plate is weak and off to the left, ex-Pirate Sid Bream lumbers from second at half the speed of smell and slides past Spanky's tag. That's the ballgame. Why Sid, WHY? Bonds stays on a knee in left for a few minutes while the Braves celebrate. Eventually he jogs in and disappears into the dugout. See ya later, Barry. And little did we know, see ya never, playoffs. It was officially the last moment that baseball mattered in Pittsburgh. I was nine years old and I am not ashamed to admit that I cried. In fact, I may have cried if I were 29. Fans thought they were devistated that night, they had no idea what lie ahead of them.
