It's a Miserable Life Part 2

If you missed it, Part 1 is here.

Robert: Is that ... No ... it can't be!

Crossing the bridge, Robert has noticed something at the end that he failed to notice while conversing with Murtaugh. What he knows as PNC Park is shell of a stadium, a long abandoned construction site that looks as if it hasn't been touched in years.

Robert: Where's the park? What's going on here?

Murtaught: thinks for a second and spits a long string of tobacco juice into the standing snow on the bridge before finally responding. I'm not sure you're ready for that kind of news kid. You want a drink?

Robert: Yeah, there should be a couple of bars on Federal street. Then again...

Federal Street is full of run-down buildings and shady people. Robert notices that a massive football stadium lurks in the distance. It's not Heinz Field, but it's not Three Rivers either. The light still calls to them. It's a cracked plastic sign that simply reads 222 Bar. Robert and his celestial companion enter. The bar is run-down smells awful. The people inside look worn down and the bartender is not friendly. The signs behind the bar indicate that drinks are very cheap.

Robert: Well, I'm glad something is the same.

Bartender: What'll you have?

Robert: A flaming rum punch?

Murtaugh: (whispers) What the hell is wrong with you?

Robert: (whispers back) I dunno, it just came out.

Bartender: Hey look, mister - we serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast, and we don't need any characters around to give the joint "atmosphere." Is that clear, or do I have to slip you my left for a convincer?

Robert: Uhhhh ... can I have an Iron?

Bartender: You're in Pittsburgh, what do you think?

Robert: In Pittsburgh ... that's a relief. Hey, where's PNC Park?

Bartender: What's PNC Park?

Robert: It's where the Pirates play? Right across the street?

Bartender: The Pirates ?!?

Murtaugh: Oh geez.

Bartender: Kid, I dunno where you're from, but the Pirates ain't been in town for five years now.

Robert: Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick!!! You've got to be kidding.

Bartender: Do I look like a kidder?

Robert: looks the bartender up and down, noticing his thinning gray hair, and his vaguely familiar gaunt, smoker's face that's been worn by time, then shakes his head. Sorry I'm from an alternate ti--- eh, I'm from Canada. What happened to the Pirates?

Bartender: You really don't know.

Robert: No, I don't.

Bartender: Dammit, kid, that wasn't a question. Back in the early 1990s, the Pirates were somethin' real special. Just had that real fire in the belly, you know? 1992 was the best group of players I'd ever seen. We won the whole damn thing. Barry Bonds, Andy Van Slyke, Doug Drabek, what a crew. After the series, the Pirates' ownership surprised the world by offering Bonds an 8 year deal worth almost $60 million. Crazy money at the time. Bonds had to take it with the way the city embraced him for his big throw from left field to keep Game 7 of the NLCS alive, followed by his game winning homer and World Series MVP award. He was really bigger than life. Trouble was, they couldn't afford to keep anyone else. The team was OK in '93 and '94, but things kept sliding downhill from there. By '97 the team was for sale and practically bankrupt. No one wanted to buy it and that made the owners do something stupid- they left Bonds exposed in the expansion draft. Of course, he got drafted by the new team in Tampa and shortly after the Pirates were sold for fifty cents on the dollar to John Rigas, who'd been trying to buy the club for a coupla years. Things went OK until he went to jail in 2002. The league bought the team and sold it to the highest bidder. The city tried to rally together to keep them and even broke ground and got the beginnin's of a real nice stadium up before the league sold them to someone else. They're in Washington now. The Washington Grays.

Robert: I need some fresh air.

Robert is clearly shaken and it's not just from the skunked Iron City. He and Murtaugh step outside and back on to Federal Street. They being walking down towards the Sixth Street Bridge because it was never re-named for Roberto Clemente Bridge.

Robert: So, the Pirates are gone?

Murtaugh: Yep, the league moved 'em quick. Gone by the start of the 2003 season.

Robert: You really want me to believe that by throwing Sid Bream out, winning the World Series, and re-signing with the Pirates, Barry Bonds destroyed baseball in Pittsburgh forever. You do realize that by extension that means that by NOT throwing Bream out, spurring the city for San Francisco, and becoming a giant, steroid addled monster, Bonds saved the Pirates. You know how insane that sounds, right?

Murtaugh: Look, to be honest, there are 100 of these I coulda shown you. Spits. There's one where the Pirates and Bonds won three more World Series in the '90s. There's one that leads to exactly where you were when I found you earlier today with nothing changed except the outcome of the '92 playoffs. There's one that's actually worse than this one. There's one where Bonds throws Bream out and the Pirates lose in the 10th. There's several that see the Pirates beat the Braves and lose to the Blue Jays in the World Series.

Robert: I don't get it.

Murtaugh: Spits between Robert's feet. Would ya let me finish? There's a 100 different outcomes to Bonds throwing Bream out at the plate because that never happened. But there's only one outcome to Bonds not throwing Bream out, and that's because that's what DID happen. You can spend all your life wondering what mighta happened, but the truth is that it didn't.

Robert: I might trade no baseball in Pittsburgh and one World Series win in my lifetime for the shit hand we got dealt.

Murtaugh: Would you? Remember, in this world, there's no '97 freak show. There's no Francisco Cordova no-hitter. There's no Jason Kendall busting his ass down the line to beat out a bunt single in July, destroying his ankle and maybe his career in the process. There's no Garrett Mackowiak game. There's no Brian Giles grand slam off Billy Wagner, no Kevin Polcovich, no Turner Ward running through a wall, no nuthin'. All those things that you define your fanhood, and in some cases your life, by are gone. And maybe other things like that woulda happened before the team moved and maybe they wouldn't have. Maybe you'd be a big Penguin fan instead. Maybe you'd be a brainless Steeler fan chanting for Charlie Batch every time Ben Roethlisberger throws an interception. You don't know because you can't change what happened. But the fact is, those shitty Pirates that you bitch about are the reason you love baseball. Think about that. Murtaugh spits on Robert's shoes and the snow starts again. Now go tell your dame you're sorry and stop playing "what if."

Robert: Is there going to be a big intervention where maybe the police come in and rip up my parking tickets and my family members throw money at me?

Murtaugh: Now why would there be a dumb thing like that? I gotta go, but remember, it's going to get better. I promise.

Murtaugh walks off in the opposite direction, leaving Robert alone on the bridge. He stares at the lit up PNC Park for a moment before beginning to walk back down town. As he walks, he hears the sound of a saxophone playing "Auld Lang Syne." He smiles to himself. Things could certainly be worse. Maybe not much worse, but definitely a little worse.