Dave Parker is literally the reason I write about the Pirates.
When the opportunity came my way in the summer of 2019, I remembered my thirteen-year-old suburban white Jersey girl self sitting in front of the TV during the 1979 World Series, wearing the Pirates pillbox cap that my PPG Paints-employed uncle had brought back from the Burgh. I was rooting for the Famalee because no good Yankees fan in her right mind would EVER root for the Orioles. I remembered my mom, who had died the December before, saying what a handsome man Parker was, so I rooted for him in particular.