When the air downtown felt electric, fireworks blew over the Allegheny, and black and gold wasn’t just a color. It was a damn identity. You could feel it in your chest. The Super Bowl was expected. The Cup was realistic. The city moved different. 2009, 2016, 2017. We were alive. That’s gone. Long gone.
Now we’re running on fumes. Living off highlight reels and parades from a decade ago. Everyone’s still screaming “City of Champions” when the truth is it’s the City of Maybe Next Year. We’re clinging to memories because it’s all we’ve got left. Pittsburgh sports are in a free fall, and nobody wants to admit it.
The Steelers: The Standard Is Mediocrity
Let’s start with the golden child, the Pittsburgh Steelers. The franchise that used to scare people. Used to matter. Now they’re just the poster team for being “fine.”
Their last Super Bowl win was in 2008. Their last playoff win was in 2017. That’s seven full seasons without a single postseason victory. Seven. For a team built on championships, that’s flat-out embarrassing.
Mike Tomlin’s whole “never had a losing season” stat gets thrown around like it’s a trophy. Cool. You also haven’t won anything in almost a decade. That’s like bragging about showing up to work every day and never getting promoted. Since the 2010 Super Bowl run, Tomlin’s playoff record is 3-8. That’s not elite. That’s average as hell.
And look at the roster decisions. Kenny Pickett was drafted because it was cute, the hometown kid story. Not because he was the answer. Najee Harris is a great guy with a great heart, but you don’t take a running back in the first round to get 3.9 yards a carry. That’s below league average. The Steelers have turned safe picks into an art form.
This team used to demand greatness. Now they just avoid embarrassment. “The Standard is the Standard”? No. The Standard is 9-8, a first-round exit, and pretending it’s progress.
The Penguins: The Last Light Fading
Then there’s the Penguins, the only team that’s given this city anything to cheer for in the last decade. But even that light’s starting to flicker.
Sidney Crosby. Evgeni Malkin. Kris Letang. Three absolute legends. Guys who defined a generation. But they’re all pushing 40. Crosby’s 38. Malkin’s 39. Letang’s 38. That’s not a window, that’s a crack before it shatters. They can still ball out, no question, but everyone knows what’s coming next.
The last time this team won a playoff series was 2018. Seven years ago. Since then it’s been nothing but early exits or missing the playoffs altogether. And the pipeline behind them is weak. The Penguins’ prospect pool was ranked dead last for years, and even now it’s still in the bottom half of the league. That’s not a rebuild. That’s a warning sign.
The scary truth is they’re stuck. Too good to tank, not good enough to win a Cup. They’re holding on to nostalgia the same way the rest of this city is. The day Crosby, Malkin, and Letang walk away is the day the lights go out on Pittsburgh’s last real hope.
Yeah, they’re playing well right now, but that’s what makes it even worse. Because deep down, we all know this is the last ride.
The Pirates: The Bobblehead Business
And now we get to the joke of the city, the Pittsburgh Pirates.
This isn’t a baseball team. It’s a souvenir shop with a payroll. Bob Nutting doesn’t give a single damn about winning. His business model is simple. Keep the payroll in the basement, cash that MLB revenue-sharing check, and throw out a couple bobblehead nights to distract everyone.
The Pirates haven’t made the playoffs since 2015. Haven’t had a winning season since 2018. And they haven’t won their division since 1992, the longest active drought in North American pro sports. That’s not bad luck. That’s flat-out neglect.
This franchise refuses to try. Every time they get a guy who’s worth a damn like Gerrit Cole, Andrew McCutchen, or Starling Marte, he’s gone the second he gets expensive. You know it, I know it, everyone knows Paul Skenes is next. In a few years, they’ll ship him off for “a couple of prospects and cash considerations,” and the cycle will keep spinning.
Nutting’s laughing his way to the bank while fans show up out of loyalty. It’s a scam. Until MLB steps in and forces a salary floor or Nutting sells the team, nothing changes. The Pirates are a con, not a club.
The Excuse Buster: “Small Market” My Ass
Every time someone says “we’re a small market” I lose brain cells. It’s not a market problem. It’s an ownership and leadership problem.
Since the Penguins’ last Cup in 2017, here’s what other cities have done:
Boston: Four championships. Patriots, Red Sox, Celtics, and women’s pro titles.
Los Angeles: Four. Lakers, Dodgers twice, Rams.
Philadelphia: Two. Eagles in 2017 and 2024.
Pittsburgh: Zero.
Other cities are pumping out titles while we’re pumping out excuses. “It’s hard to win.” No, it’s not. It’s hard to win when you settle. Pittsburgh used to be about chasing greatness. Now we’re about pretending mediocrity is fine because “we’re a small market.”
If the Red Sox, Patriots, and Eagles can all reload and rebuild multiple times in a decade, what’s our excuse? We don’t have one.
The Facts Don’t Lie
Here’s what Pittsburgh sports really look like in 2025:
Steelers: Last Super Bowl, 2008. Last playoff win, 2017. Tomlin’s playoff record since 2010 is 3-8. Drafting safe and staying stuck in 9-8 purgatory.
Penguins: Crosby, Malkin, Letang, all late 30s. Last playoff series win, 2018. Bottom-half prospect pool. The window’s almost shut.
Pirates: Bottom-three payroll every single year. No playoffs since 2015. No division title since 1992. A rebuild that never actually rebuilds.
That’s the hard truth. That’s not a slump. That’s a full-blown identity crisis.
This Isn’t a Rant. It’s a Wake-Up Call.
Pittsburgh sports are broken. Not unlucky. Not rebuilding. Broken.
The city keeps feeding off nostalgia like it’s oxygen. The teams keep selling fans the same recycled slogans. Meanwhile, the results don’t change. The Pirates don’t care. The Steelers don’t evolve. The Penguins are running out of time.
We’ve gone from demanding championships to celebrating participation. From hanging banners to hanging our heads. The problem isn’t the fans. It’s that ownership groups and front offices have no fear of being called out. They know you’ll still show up. Still buy tickets. Still talk yourself into hope.
Enough.
The City of Below Average
Let’s call it what it is. This isn’t the City of Champions anymore. It’s the City of Below Average.
The City of 9-8.
The City of first-round exits.
The City of “wait till next year.”
We’re renting pride from the past and pretending it’s progress. That rent’s overdue. And it’s embarrassing.
Pittsburgh used to build winners. Now we build excuses. Until this city wakes up, demands better, and stops accepting mediocrity as tradition, we’re just going to keep replaying old highlights while everyone else keeps raising trophies.
We’re not the City of Champions anymore. We’re the City of Memories. And that should piss every single fan off.
It’s time to stop clinging to the past. It’s time to start acting like we deserve another parade. Because right now, we don’t.
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