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By Bill Contz
For the Mirror
As a native of southwestern Pennsylvania, I've developed an appreciation over the years for the rather unique wordsmithing practiced by Pittsburgh Pirate radio announcers, marveling at their ability to take the otherwise mundane and make it sound interesting.
Folks my age no doubt recall legendary, gravel-voiced mikeman Bob Prince's famous "and you can kiss it goodbye" declaration anytime a batted ball cleared a Forbes Field fence or his emphatic "Chicken on the hill with Will" whenever slugger Willie Stargell would catapult a pulverized baseball into the nether regions of Three Rivers Stadium.
I would contend those signature catchphrases are forever burned into my brain likely because, other than local radio and television, few other forms of social media existed before cable TV and the Internet.
Bucco fans would usually employ a transistor or car radio to listen to Prince calling the action for a club featuring guys named Clemente, Sanguillen, Blass and Hebner that seemingly contended for a National League Eastern Division title each year in the early 1970s.
Competitive, winning baseball is obviously entertaining enough on its own, but Prince's verbal eloquence behind a microphone made listening a popular and enjoyable pastime.
Greg Brown presently occupies the Pirate radio booth, and at times, appears to possess a doctorate in the art of soliloquy (defined as "the act of talking to oneself.")
Fans identify him by his signature "raise the Jolly Roger," which he enthusiastically exclaims milliseconds after the final out of a Pirate victory is recorded.
Brown will occasionally employ something I classify as "alternate descriptives" when he provides listeners with out-of-town scores or roster updates, usually during rain delays or an extended stoppage in play.
During a recent broadcast, Brown used the phrase "pale hose" when referring to the Chicago White Sox. I personally prefer the shortened "ChiSox" because it sounds oddly similar to "Cossacks," a semi-nomadic horde who briefly played their home games in southern Russia back in the 15th century (thank you, Google).
Identifying major league baseball teams according to the color of their socks passes muster with most baseball purists but only to a point.
While most fans will accept references made to players in Cincinnati "Red Legs," they have little tolerance for and unilaterally reject the notion of calling Chicago Cub players "Blue Legs," not to mention the sheer absurdity of referring to someone donning the New York Yankee pinstripes "Navy Legs."
While use of alternate descriptives that recognize some aspect of either a player or mascot's uniform makes sense, at times, for baseball it simply does not fly in college athletics.
The hometown play-by-play guy down in Morgantown calling the West Virginia-Maryland contest would be looking for work soon thereafter if he ever blurted out a phrase like "Well, our frontiersmen are really handing it to the slow-footed turtles today."
There are any number of distractions that can easily steer our attention away from the focus necessary to absorb a sports broadcast and what the Princes and Browns of this world do in order to retain our focus and allegiance is an art form -- even if it means the use of the occasional unconventional reference.
Contz was a starting offensive tackle on Penn State's first national championship team in 1982 and played six NFL seasons with New Orleans and Cleveland. He published a book in 2017, "When the Lions Roared: Joe Paterno and One of College Football's Greatest Teams." He resides in Pittsburgh.