No Joy in Slushville
This must be how the residents of Mudville felt after Mighty Casey's ninth inning debacle.
Yesterday, the day after one of the most ill-played football games this side of my high school football team's season, the city of Pittsburgh lay buried in a shroud of despair. My boss drank countless cups of coffee to compensate for what must have been a rough night. I had to console a co-worker, nearly frozen in despair, multiple times throughout the day. Traffic that usually moved at 70 mph slowed to 55 and not one person cut me off all day. Radio DJs spoke as though the world were coming to an end then played songs that wouldn't make us cry or remember that it was Black Monday. The local news even ran a non-story about how the winning $14 million PowerBall ticket was sold in Pittsburgh. Nobody knew the winner and it was only $14 million. But yesterday it was news because, as my dad said, "anything else would make these people slit their wrists." We traveled from home to work and back again under a dark sky that reflected the dirt-colored muck and slush through which our gray tires unceremoniously cut. It seemed as though God shrouded the town in the colors of his own mourning.
"It's only a game," you might say. And you'd be right. But to this town--these people--the Steelers represent more than just a game.
You see, Pittsburgh is dying and everyone living here knows it. We hear the news every day--cuts in public transportation, commuter taxes, higher property and occupational taxes, industry moving out of the city, young people coming here to be educated and then leaving this gray fortress of working-class America for glamour jobs in places where downtown bars stay open past 9 p.m. Although more and more families relocate to Pittsburgh each year, they don't come close to replacing the population of senior citizens who pass away, the grannies on the South Side who wear their babushkas and housecoats while they sweep the stoop. And to top it all off, we have fewer days of sunshine per year than even Seattle. These are bleak times.
But for those of us who call Southwestern Pennsylvania home, the one beacon in the doom and gloom this year was the Steelers: an improbable rookie quarterback who, against all odds defeats the opposing team each week for 14 weeks; the returning running back who, despite pay-cut and reduced role, rushes for at least 100 yards in most games he starts. As a city, we couldn't hold our own economically, but the Steelers' defense made up for it by not letting any of the opposition through. We lived vicariously through the team each Sunday and forgot for a few hours than the city we grew up in has become anything less than the stronghold of the nation. On Sunday, we were unstoppable.
It's all over now. And the team we lived for has walked off the field with their heads bowed, some even in tears as they thought of what could have been. Fans have packed away their yellow face paint and Terrible Towels to patiently wait until next season. Rumors of baseball spring training have even begun to spread. ("Does this town have a baseball team? Well maybe they'll be better this year.") For the next few months, we'll wake up to invariably cloudy skies and trudge through the remaining slush of winter.
But when the Black and Gold take to Latrobe for their own training camp in August, the sun will come out. And we'll live again.
"Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Slushville--the mighty Steelers have struck out."
Yesterday, the day after one of the most ill-played football games this side of my high school football team's season, the city of Pittsburgh lay buried in a shroud of despair. My boss drank countless cups of coffee to compensate for what must have been a rough night. I had to console a co-worker, nearly frozen in despair, multiple times throughout the day. Traffic that usually moved at 70 mph slowed to 55 and not one person cut me off all day. Radio DJs spoke as though the world were coming to an end then played songs that wouldn't make us cry or remember that it was Black Monday. The local news even ran a non-story about how the winning $14 million PowerBall ticket was sold in Pittsburgh. Nobody knew the winner and it was only $14 million. But yesterday it was news because, as my dad said, "anything else would make these people slit their wrists." We traveled from home to work and back again under a dark sky that reflected the dirt-colored muck and slush through which our gray tires unceremoniously cut. It seemed as though God shrouded the town in the colors of his own mourning.
"It's only a game," you might say. And you'd be right. But to this town--these people--the Steelers represent more than just a game.
You see, Pittsburgh is dying and everyone living here knows it. We hear the news every day--cuts in public transportation, commuter taxes, higher property and occupational taxes, industry moving out of the city, young people coming here to be educated and then leaving this gray fortress of working-class America for glamour jobs in places where downtown bars stay open past 9 p.m. Although more and more families relocate to Pittsburgh each year, they don't come close to replacing the population of senior citizens who pass away, the grannies on the South Side who wear their babushkas and housecoats while they sweep the stoop. And to top it all off, we have fewer days of sunshine per year than even Seattle. These are bleak times.
But for those of us who call Southwestern Pennsylvania home, the one beacon in the doom and gloom this year was the Steelers: an improbable rookie quarterback who, against all odds defeats the opposing team each week for 14 weeks; the returning running back who, despite pay-cut and reduced role, rushes for at least 100 yards in most games he starts. As a city, we couldn't hold our own economically, but the Steelers' defense made up for it by not letting any of the opposition through. We lived vicariously through the team each Sunday and forgot for a few hours than the city we grew up in has become anything less than the stronghold of the nation. On Sunday, we were unstoppable.
It's all over now. And the team we lived for has walked off the field with their heads bowed, some even in tears as they thought of what could have been. Fans have packed away their yellow face paint and Terrible Towels to patiently wait until next season. Rumors of baseball spring training have even begun to spread. ("Does this town have a baseball team? Well maybe they'll be better this year.") For the next few months, we'll wake up to invariably cloudy skies and trudge through the remaining slush of winter.
But when the Black and Gold take to Latrobe for their own training camp in August, the sun will come out. And we'll live again.
"Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Slushville--the mighty Steelers have struck out."
6 Comments:
Do people not post because this really sucks or because there's just nothing left to say? I'm starting to get paranoid that no one's reading!
Well, even though I'm just now getting around to reading this, I wouldn't have commented without prompting because the Steelers (and football in general) register lower on my radar than, um, pretty much everything else. If the Steelers had won on Sunday, I would still have to show up at work on Monday. I would still have the same life, same experiences. Looking back at their loss, I still had to go to work on Monday. I still have the same life, same experiences. And, unless someone tells me, I won't notice Spring Training for Baseball or the opening of the Latrobe camp for the Steelers.
We may, however, have to talk bill off of a cliff once the hockey season is actually cancelled.
It's reassuring to know people are at least reading. I'll try not to focus on sports for the next post (which was originally going to be about meeting Jack Wilson, short stop for the Pirates). I'll come up with something else :)
Hi, I just came across your blog randomly but I live in Pittsburgh and I share your feelings exactly.
Your post is well written and awesome. This is exactly how I felt after the game and your reasoning on why the Steelers are so important to Pgh resonates with me.
Well said Suzie!
Thanks, Anonymous! Stick around--I try to update at least once a week and I love knowing that my audience is growing. The blog is just a holdover until the Post-Gazette decides it was silly to not snag me while they could and offers me a columnist position :)
HA!
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