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Pittsburgh Pirates: 1928 National League Champions
Colin Cowherd on the 1928 Pirates’ 14–12 Pennant Clincher
“Folks… at long last… the Pittsburgh Pirates are going to the World Series. And they didn’t just win — they announced themselves.”
You ever notice how some franchises just have a feel to them?
Some teams win with power. Some win with pitching.
The Pirates?
They win with chaos.
Beautiful, cinematic, Pittsburgh steel-mill chaos.
Down 10–3 after five innings.
Season slipping away.
Momentum gone.
All the analytics saying, “Yeah, Washington’s got this.”
And then Pittsburgh does what Pittsburgh’s been doing all postseason:
They become the NFL’s version of a team with a great quarterback — it just doesn’t matter how bad the start is because you know they can score fast.
Juan Rivera?
He’s their Patrick Mahomes.
You can’t compare him to anyone else.
You can’t gameplan him.
You can’t contain him.
You just try to survive him.
The guy hits two home runs, drives in four, and oh by the way, he’s hitting SIX HUNDRED for the series with seven homers. That’s not baseball — that’s a cheat code. That’s a video game played by a kid who turned off the difficulty settings.
And here’s the thing about Washington — and I’ve said this for YEARS — they’re flashy, not foundational.
They’re loud, not layered.
Fun story, great individual bats… but no identity.
You cannot win playoff baseball games when you blow a 10–3 lead, commit sloppy errors, and ask your bullpen to get 12 outs it’s simply not equipped to get. That’s not a championship operation, that’s a weekend Airbnb.
Meanwhile Pittsburgh… nineteen hits, six errors — and STILL wins.
Why?
Because when you have the best player, the hungriest clubhouse, and the loudest ballpark… that stuff covers up a lot of mess.
And let’s talk about that ballpark for a second.
PNC today?
It felt like a college football stadium.
It felt SEC.
It felt religious.
Once that sixth inning started, once the crowd sensed blood — it was over.
Washington never recovered.
The Pirates drop a six-spot in the seventh, a four-spot in the eighth, and suddenly this franchise — which for years felt like it was trapped in neutral — is four wins away from a championship.
So now they wait for Detroit or Seattle.
And I’ll tell you right now:
I don’t care who comes out of the American League.
Those teams are nice stories.
They’re buttoned-up, well-run, polished.
Pittsburgh?
They’re not polished.
They’re dangerous.
They’re the kind of team that hits you with a 14–12 game and you walk away thinking, “We played great tonight… and we STILL lost.”
That’s what championship teams feel like.
This city’s waited a long time.
Today it happened.
The Pirates…
are going to the World Series.
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Colin Cowherd on the Pirates’ Wild 14–12 Pennant Win — Now Featuring the Legend of Isidro Pruneda
“Folks… what Pittsburgh did today? That’s not baseball — that’s destiny wearing cleats.”
You know how I always say there are playoff performers…
and then there are postseason mythologies?
Pittsburgh has both — in the same lineup.
We’ve talked all October about Juan Rivera.
He’s the Mahomes of this league, the cheat code, the guy you can’t pitch to without regretting it.
But now?
They’ve got ANOTHER one.
Isidro Pruneda.
Remember the name.
Because what he’s doing is borderline fictional.
Pittsburgh’s down 12–10.
Crowd tightening up.
Nationals fans starting to get cute on social media.
And then Pruneda hits the biggest inside-the-park home run in franchise history — three runs, full sprint, dives into the plate like he’s stealing home in the 1910 World Series.
And this postseason?
.567 batting average.
11 home runs.
40 RBI.
That’s not a playoff run; that’s Babe Ruth created in a laboratory and set loose on a pitching staff.
You can’t coach this.
You can’t analytics this.
You can’t prepare for a lineup where Juan Rivera AND Isidro Pruneda are basically superhero characters.
It’s like having Mahomes and peak Adrian Peterson on the same roster.
Washington had a 10–3 lead.
A 12–10 lead.
Twice they could’ve put this thing away.
And twice Pittsburgh’s stars said, “Nope. Not today. Not in our building.”
This is what I always say:
Some teams are built for seasons.
Some teams are built for moments.
Pittsburgh is built for moments.
Washington?
Nice team.
Fun story.
They’re the NBA team that runs hot for three quarters, hits threes, looks great — and then they get punched in the mouth and collapse. No layers. No backbone. No identity.
Pittsburgh?
They’ve got Rivera.
They’ve got Pruneda.
They’ve got the best home crowd in the sport.
And they’ve got this chaos-fueled energy that feels like they’re dragging baseball into a bar fight every night.
Down 10–3?
Doesn’t matter.
Down 12–10?
Doesn’t matter.
Two swings.
Two superstars.
Ballgame.
This city hasn’t seen a run like this in decades.
And after today…
I’m not sure anyone in the American League — Detroit or the Mariners, who are trying for their second straight pennant — actually wants any part of this team.
The Pirates aren’t just hot.
They’re inevitable.
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