My father didn’t like to ruin surprises, which is why I learned about my Bucco Brick from a fellow sportswriter on Opening Day of the 2001 season.
While PNC Park was being constructed late last century, the Pirates held a campaign to sell personalized bricks that would adorn the sidewalks outside the new stadium. Two options were offered, and my father purchased the bigger size at a price of $150.
He did it in my honor. He just never told me about it beforehand.
Sitting in my seat in the press box before that first game, I was informed that a brick with my name on it was spotted near the Honus Wagner statue. The sportswriter didn’t know the precise location but assured me it was out there.
For the next few weeks, before games, I would canvass the area in search of the elusive brick, until I found it under the 1940 marker. It read: “Joe Rutter Pirates Sports Writer — Joe’s Dad, Tom Rutter.”
From that point, it became my ritual to touch the brick with my foot as I walked into or out of PNC Park. I did it every game while covering the team through the 2006 season and continued the tradition when I attended games as a fan. That included games with my proud father before his passing in 2011.
Until this season.
I was taken aback Saturday when I attended the Pirates’ game against the New York Yankees and saw slabs of white concrete placed where the hundreds of bricks were located, mine included. The bricks were gone, removed without any prior notification or warning.
The shock turned to anger when an intrepid KDKA reporter discovered Tuesday they had been shipped to a landfill for recycling. The Pirates reacted by saying it was the third time the bricks had been removed and that they would return in some fashion in a permanent location.
This explanation softened my stance but only by a little. The damage — literally and figuratively — already had been done. Other fans understandably were frustrated and outraged. The bricks were viewed as more than just 4x8 pieces of stone. They had sentimental value and brought joy to those who supported — and in my case, covered — the team through the lean times over the past three-plus decades.
It was the second public relations hit the franchise took in the opening homestand, following in the footsteps over the Roberto Clemente No. 21 emblem being replaced by an advertisement on the right-field wall.
No outcry happened the previous times the bricks were temporarily removed and repaired, if only because they were back in place by the start of the following season. Not this time. It’s not that the Pirates decided to relocate the bricks that has warranted backlash. It’s the sight of them piled up in a recycling center that has angered fans.
Had the Pirates informed fans with an announcement of the bricks’ removal, perhaps those who purchased them could have retrieved their brick before they were sent to the dump. Old and decaying as they were, the bricks provided an emotional connection, and the Pirates could have negated the backlash by being proactive for once and offering them back to customers as a keepsake.
Instead, it marks another round of bad publicity for a franchise that is used to disappointing fans with its play on the field. Amazingly, they have found creative ways this year to upset their fan base with their actions off it.
Then again, nothing should be surprising when it comes to the Pirates alienating their customers. Even my late father, who hated to ruin a surprise, would agree.