COLUMBUS, Ohio — The soundtrack to Roslyn Munsch’s sporting life pumped through her home speakers on Oct. 24, 2020, a morning that dawned with anticipation and a break from monotony.
In a year when each new day felt indistinguishable for the last, she was up early blasting University of Pittsburgh fight songs from her Spotify account. This is how autumn Saturdays were meant to sound in the Munsch household. It’s how they always sounded before so much joy in the world was muted six months earlier.
She was among the 5,451 fans holding tickets for the Pitt football game against Notre Dame — the school’s first of the season to include a limited number of spectators at Heinz Field. Precautions would need to be taken and new codes of conduct closely observed, but not even a blue-and-gold Pitt face covering could mask her enthusiasm.
As she prepared for an afternoon drive to the stadium, she belted out the “Pitt Victory Song.”
Fight on for dear old Pittsburgh
And for the glory of the game
Show our worthy foe that the Panther's on the go
Pitt must win today! Rah! Rah! Rah!
Munsch was a freshman at Pitt in 1976 when tailback Tony Dorsett led the Panthers to a national title. A love affair with the university’s athletic programs began to blossom unfettered. Lifelong friends were made at football and basketball games. Munsch met her future husband, Bill, in the stands at old Pitt Stadium in 1987 and the couple’s two daughters, Maria and Regina, grew up to march in the Pitt band.
From 1976 through 2019, Munsch missed just five home football games. Her life revolved around a crowded university sports schedule. Then, last March, all the cheering stopped as a global pandemic took hold.
A woman known for hugging her extended “Pitt family” as she left stadiums and arenas could no longer even embrace her 95-year-old mother, Mary, for fear of spreading the virus.
“With all that’s going on in the world, it’s hard to call sports even secondary — it’s far below that because it’s all about people’s safety and health,” she said. “But when you talk about sports or any form of entertainment that people enjoy, you do it for a reason. It’s your passion. Our passion is going to the games.”
Years ago, the late Howard Cosell perfectly described our fan base’s unique bond with its sports teams. “When you play Pittsburgh,” the legendary broadcaster observed, “you play the whole city.”
But for the past 12 months those rabid voices of support inside Heinz Field, PNC Park, PPG Paints Arena and Petersen Events Center have been stilled. While games in Pittsburgh and across the nation resumed last summer, attempts to limit COVID-19 transmission have resulted in most being played behind closed doors. Even those programs and franchises receiving the state’s permission to host fans have had to keep crowds small and socially distanced.
MUNSCH FAMILY
Rosyln Munsch, far right, with her family at a Pitt football game.
For many like Munsch, it’s altered game-day traditions and the way we consume sports. As a grim anniversary approaches, DK Pittsburgh Sports reached out through social media to speak with people about what perspective has been gained and what experiences have been lost in a year filled with so much illness, death, economic hardship and confusion.
“It felt empty,” Roslyn said. “It felt like something was missing. You stop and realize it’s about more than just the game. It’s about the people you meet and the people with whom you have forged lasting relationships over time.”
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Austin Hatfield’s idea of Steelers’ game-day nirvana is popping off the light rail at North Side station and walking headlong into a glorious assault on his senses.
The aroma of brats, burgers and hot sausage sizzling on grills. The sound of Tom Petty, AC/DC and Led Zeppelin booming from car stereos.The sight of thousands of black-and-gold clad Yinzers roaming the lots around Heinz Field. And at the end of the line, standing in Red Lot 5A is his father, Mike, and all his buddies waiting to hand him a cold one.
“There have been times when my dad and his friends are having such a good time in the parking lot, they would listen to the game on the radio before coming into the stadium in the second quarter,” said Hatfield, 27.
What is a home game without a tailgate? Until last season, the Hatfields thought they would never know.
When the Steelers were given the go-ahead to allow about 7,500 fans into games — it only lasted for three mid-season contests — one stipulation from the state’s department of health was no tailgating in the stadium parking lots.
Hatfield understood the rationale of keeping fans from clustering, but it didn’t soften the blow of temporarily suspending a cherished family ritual. They have had season tickets for generations, and nobody can recall the last time they didn’t tailgate for a home game.
HATFIELD FAMILY
The Hatfields buy a scrawny Christmas tree every year and decorate it with their tailgate empties.
As the Steelers opened the season, Hatfield’s pals and family members called each other on game day in hopes of simulating the revelry, but the attempts proved futile. His dad lasted just two quarters inside Heinz Field for the Oct. 11 game against the Eagles before growing frustrated with an usher over constant reminders to put his mask over his mouth and nose when he wasn’t eating or drinking. He watched the rest of the game from a North Shore bar.
Every season, the Hatfield tailgaters purchase the ugliest Christmas tree this side of Charlie Brown and decorate it with empty beer cans for the home game nearest the holiday.
“We usually put a bottle of Crown Royal on top of it or, maybe a bra,” Hatfield said laughing.
With vaccines rollouts and vital numbers heading in the right direction, Hatfield is cautiously optimistic for a return to Steelers’ tailgating next season.
“It makes you appreciate the good times you’ve had,” he said. “I’ll be going full force at that first game and probably needing to take the next day off.”
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KEITH B. SRAKOCIC / AP
Empty seats surround the Steelers and Browns for their Jan. 10 playoff game at Heinz Field.
David 'Chico' Sakulsky probably needed a year off from dancing in the aisles and lugging heavy containers of hot dogs and beers around Pittsburgh's sports venues. The 57-year-old vendor suffers from diabetes and heart issues. His shoulders required manipulative surgery in 2020.
It’s not just fans who have missed all the action that sports and concerts provide. Vendors are part of the game-day experience, and few are as charismatic as Sakulsky, who’s been featured on the hockey arena Jumbotron for his dance routines.
The former counselor distributes beer at football and hockey games and dishes dogs to the baseball crowd.
“Piping hot, fresh and delicious. You know you want a hot doggggg!" he bellows.
Sakulsky loves putting smiles on the faces of kids at the ballpark. He will sing into his hot-dog tongs and pull unsuspecting customers into the aisle for a dance. He’s become such a fabric of the game-day community that some fans have invited him to their homes for parties.
His loved ones, concerned about his failing health, have encouraged him to give up the gig. But he’s counting the days for a return to the stadiums, where he’s forged an unmistakable identity.
“I miss it, I really do,” Sakulsky said. “It’s a chance to make an impact on the fans.”
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Stephen Koosh took his favorite Pirates hat and placed it in his dad’s coffin in late November of 2019. Baseball is what had bonded father and son. It’s why Koosh now wears his dad’s Pirates’ cap—the one with Josh Bell’s name stitched into the side of it —almost every day.
Pops didn’t live long enough to enjoy an afternoon at PNC Park with his grandson, Joey. But Koosh, a 32-year-old Girard, Ohio resident vows, the father-and-son tradition will live on in the old man’s memory. It’s why he splurged for a 25-game season-ticket package for the 2020 season.
“Unfortunately, we never got to use them,” he said.
The threat of the virus forced the Pirates to play all their home games behind closed doors. The good news is Koosh intends to keep the tickets for the upcoming season with hopes of taking Joey to games this summer.
He’s heard stories of how baseball is losing its appeal with younger generations. Trying telling that to Joey, who’s becoming one of Ke'Bryan Hayes’ biggest fans. The Koosh tickets are along the third-base line, where Joey will get an up-close opportunity to watch his hero at play.
“We hated not going to games, but it was so nice to watch them on TV,” Koosh said. “Sports have given us a great distraction from what’s going on in the world. If anything, we’re even more invested in baseball since my dad’s passing.”
Koosh doesn’t need a warning about the dangers of the virus. He and his wife, Alexandra, were diagnosed with COVID-19 over the holidays. His fever spiked to 103 and it led to hallucinations. Imagine being quarantined in your room for Christmas while only being able to listen to your son play on the other side of a wall.
Better days lie ahead. Koosh and his wife are healthy again as the Pirates head to spring training. Who knows when the organization will welcome back fans to the ballpark, but Koosh plans to be there with wife and Joey in tow.
You don’t need to ask what hat he’ll be wearing.
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NOVAKOWSKI FAMILY
Dan Novakowski, left, with friends at a Penguins' game
At 6-foot-5, Dan Novakowski stands out in almost any crowd. Especially when he’s parading around PPG Paints Arena in a Chewbacca costume. Or, a Grinch outfit. Or, the only known Alexander Pechursky jersey not owned by, well, Alexander Pechursky.
Nobody has more fun at Penguins' games than the gregarious Novakowski, who sits five rows off the ice and is sometimes more entertaining than the Penguins’ power play.
“Hockey is a huge part of our lives,” said the wealth management advisor who names his dogs (Ulfie, Murphy, Kasparaitis) after former Penguins players.
You might think no fans in Pittsburgh are more eager to get back into the arena than Novakowski and his wife, Dani, who have been season-ticket holders since 1998. The couple says it will attend games if the Penguins are able to host a limited number of spectators in a few weeks, but they remain understanding about the state’s cautious approach.
“It was more surreal missing playoff games last season than regular season games this year,” Novakowski said. “However, with all the safety concerns I would much rather wait and see the games in person when it’s more comfortable without health risks.”
The amateur photographer has attended about 1,100 games over the past 25 years. He’s traveled to Sweden to watch the Penguins play and saw Sidney Crosby lift the Stanley Cup in Detroit in 2009.
In 1996, Novakowski arranged for Dani and him to be on-ice contestants for a between-periods giveaway to deliver a marriage proposal before a packed house.
There’s nothing he enjoys more than spending a night at the rink. The man owns more than 600 Penguins jerseys, including a Pechursky sweater in honor of the obscure Russian goalie who made a 36-minute relief appearance on Jan. 16, 2010 in his only NHL game. Novakowski's favorite Penguin is Marc-Andre Fleury and, before you ask, he’s got 30 Flower jerseys hanging in his home that’s been featured in a Roots Sports commercial:
Disposable income aside, the past year has made him ponder what’s important in life. The Novakowskis have had 10 extended family members sickened by the virus, including one who died.
“I think the whole experience has taught me we could live without sports if we needed to,” he said. “But I’m glad it’s back. It gets us by on a day-to-day basis.”
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Alan Yoder doesn’t want to talk politics. He’s seen the pandemic weaponized for months in various debates.
Yoder is a recent college graduate who bought himself Penguins’ season tickets as a reward for earning a diploma. Now, he just wants a chance to use them.
“I understand that we’re in a pandemic and maybe going to sporting events may not be the best idea,” he wrote in an email. “But what are the reasons for these restrictions and why can some things open and others not?”
Yoder wants someone to explain how Rivers Casino could reopen Jan. 4, while several blocks away the Steelers were unable to have fans attend their Jan. 10 playoff game. He finds the lack of consistency puzzling.
It also bothers him that pro sports franchises a few hours away in Cleveland have been attracting spectators for months. This discrepancy, of course, is a matter of decisions made by state governments.
“I feel worse for the businesses around all of the stadiums that are suffering even more from no fans,” Yoder wrote. “I’d gladly go to those places for dinner before games.”
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SAFKO FAMILY
Mike and Steve Safko in Tampa for Super Bowl XLIII
Steve Safko took his family on a European vacation two years ago. With any long journey, attention spans can wane and when Safko sensed it happening with his two daughters, he offered them advice.
“Stay in the moment,” Safko said. “Don’t worry about what your friends are doing back home. Enjoy what you have in front of you because I’m not bringing you back here again.”
The 50-year software engineer has thought about those words as the health crisis deepened and chances to attend sporting events became limited. He’s a lifelong Steelers fan who traveled to Detroit and Tampa in the 2000s to see his team win Super Bowls.
He went to Heinz Field for the three games that permitted fans last season and was struck by the lack of atmosphere. Safko longed to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother, Mike, and be surrounded by thousands of other passionate supporters.
“Sporting events offer such a great escape,” said Safko, whose family has owned Steelers’ season tickets since 1970. “For several hours, you can forget about everything else and just be in the moment with the crowd.”
That was nearly impossible for the three home games — wins against the Eagles, Browns and Bengals. The empty seats, the social distancing, the masks on every face. They were jarring reminders of what the nation was enduring.
By the time the NFL moved the Thanksgiving night game against the Ravens to Dec. 2, fans were no longer allowed in the stadium because of an uptick in COVID-19 cases.
“It drives me nuts when I see people on their phones at games,” Safko said. “Appreciate the time you have there because you’re never sure when it can all be taken away.”
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Sports seasons and their signature showcase events used to always held at the same time every year, barring a labor stoppage. Then, the virus struck, and the NBA title was being awarded in October and The Masters was being played in November.
Longtime Penguins fan Bill Norcik recalls feeling disoriented.
“October rolls around and the leaves start falling and the air gets crisp,” Norcik said. “That’s hockey season.”
Except it wasn’t. The Stanley Cup had just been presented to the Lightning a few weeks earlier.
Sports fans are learning schedules must be written in pencil with a large eraser close at hand. Games get postponed due to COVID-19 outbreaks. Everything in life now seems TBD.
“When we put a down payment on (2020) playoff tickets and we couldn’t go, I figured it would just go toward next season’s tickets when all this cleared up,” Norcik said. “Never in my right mind did I think it was going to be this bad or this long.”
EMILEE CHINN / GETTY
An empty PPG Paints Arena this past weekend.
Norcik’s father, Robert, introduced him to Penguins’ hockey in 1970. He was immediately hooked. Nothing was better than waiting for his dad — the man everyone called “Crusher” — to get home from work and take him to the arena.
To this day, Norcik can recite their old route: “Shoot down the parkway, through the tunnel, left on Grant, right on Forbes, left on Washington, right on Center, right into the Medical Pavilion parking lot all the way to the bottom and walk up steps to the arena.”
Norcik’s father died in 2016 just two months after the Penguins clinched their fourth Cup. Watching it together on television remains Norcik's last great memory of a man who never seems too far from his thoughts.
Last summer’s playoff games in the Canadian bubbles provided little excitement for Norcik. The reasons ran deeper than the Penguins’ quick exit against Montreal.
“It’s trivial to actually be bummed and think about it so I don’t,” he said. “There are people who have lost family members through this. It’s a tragedy. You gotta put it into perspective.”
If the Penguins do get permission to add fans this season, Norcik will pass. He’s worried about the health of his 87-year-old mother and her friends.
He misses everything about hockey nights at PPG Paints Arena — the players, his friends, the ushers, even the beer vendor, who always asks his section, “Anyone need one while I’m up?”
Not for Norcik. He’s waiting until the world gets back on schedule.
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When Dr. Rick Gradisek missed a late-season Pitt football game in 2019 many figured the circumstances surrounding his absence to be extraordinary.
The Pittsburgh dentist doesn’t have a man cave because he doesn’t need one. The bachelor attends every game he wants to see. He once went four consecutive football seasons without missing a contest home or away. Few Pitt boosters make more road trips for football and basketball.
The mystery to his whereabouts was revealed at the final home game of the 2019 season as Gradisek received an award for being Pitt’s donor of the week. In his case, the honor held a double meaning.
“I had given a kidney to my sister and my doctor didn’t want me going to the game that week,” he said.
Gradisek’s generosity stems from a lifetime spent around Pitt athletic programs. His father, Rudy, played football for the Panthers. Gradisek not only attended the university, but served as a student equipment manager during the 1970s.
“I saw all (6,526) yards that Tony Dorsett gained over four years,” Gradisek said of the Heisman Trophy winner.
Last fall, he attended both home football games that permitted fans. He's also made it to three basketball games reserved for family, friends and significant boosters. Such is his level of support.
“The football games were like going to a spring game,” he said. “Because there were so few people, there wasn’t much of an atmosphere. You could hold a conversation with people sitting five rows behind you. It was a real hollow feeling.”
It’s a sentiment shared by his good friend and fellow booster Roslyn Munsch.
Upon arriving at the Notre Dame football game, she was saddened to see no tailgaters. What really hurt was the absence of the marching band and a halftime show. Munsch had tickets for the last home game against Virginia Tech, but she gave them away. Her focus already has turned to next season.
“I don’t know if you can put into words how exciting it’s going to be,” she said. “Having gone through all of this, it’s going to mean even more.”
Munsch has so many reasons to look forward. Right now, she just wants to hug her mother again.
