From Babe Ruth to PNC Park: 99-year-old Pirates usher Phil Coyne has seen it all

PITTSBURGH – Phil Coyne watched from behind the visitors dugout at Forbes Field as the New York Yankees came from behind to tie the Pirates, 9-9, in the ninth inning of Game 7 of the 1960 World Series.

Bill Mazeroski approached home plate. Bottom of the ninth, Oct. 13, 1960 – the day “Maz” etched his name into World Series, and Pittsburgh, history. He hit a walk-off home run to left field, over Yogi Berra’s head, and the Pirates were World Series champions.

Fifty-seven years and two Pirates stadiums later, Coyne, now a 99-year-old usher at PNC Park, remembers it all.

“We were supposed to keep people off the field,” Coyne said. “I just turned around and went back. I let them go.”

He guided people to their seats that day, just like he has done at almost every Pirates home game since 1936. Before the Pirates’ rubber match against the Chicago Cubs at PNC Park Wednesday night, team president Frank Coonelly presented Coyne with a No. 99 Pirates jersey in a pregame ceremony on the field.

Nine years earlier, Coonelly had handed him a No. 90 jersey.

“We could all sit back, whether it’s 80 years or 10 years that we’ve been going to the same job, and bring that type of joy and newness and freshness that he brings to the job every single day,” Coonelly said.

Why not wait for an even century, Coyne wondered?

“Maybe they think I’m not going to make 100,” he said with a laugh, answering his own question.

Born April 27, 1918, Coyne grew up in Oakland, the neighborhood the Pirates called home from 1909 through part of 1970. The oldest of eight children – and the only one left – he now has nieces and nephews scattered across the country. He took a few years off from ushering to fight in World War II, from 1941 to 1945. As a boy, he spent Saturdays playing in right field on kids days at the ballpark, a patch of grass Roberto Clemente claimed as his territory a few decades later.

After decades of ushering for the Pirates, Coyne now enjoys a view with the Roberto Clemente Bridge in the distance. His territory is Section 26 and 27, on the first level of seats down the third-base line. These days, fans approach his sections for more than just help to their seats.

David Cashdollar of Grove City, who has seen Coyne at games since PNC Park opened in 2001, considers him as a staple at Pirates games.

“He’s full of energy, especially for somebody of his age,” Cashdollar said. “He’s got all kinds of folklore of the Pirates and things that have gone on.”

If you’ve stuck with the Pirates long enough, as Coyne has, then you’ve seen the good and the bad. Mazeroski’s home run, two more World Series championships and a 20-year postseason drought finally broken in 2013. As days, months and years flew by at the park, Coyne witnessed history.

Like Babe Ruth smashing his final three home runs May 25, 1935, at Forbes Field. Coyne was 16. He saw Ruth’s final homer sail over the wall and chased after it.

“We all ran down to get the ball,” Coyne said. “I think it’s still out there.”

There were plenty of losses during the Pirates’ playoff drought, but Coyne’s loyalty didn’t waver. That’s the impression Tom Petraglia, a Pirates usher for 16 years and Coyne’s neighbor a few sections over, has always had.

“He’s never any different when they lose or when they win,” Petraglia said.

Coyne has learned a lot about life and a little about baseball. First things first, he said: Don’t do too much evaluation of the team before July 4. It’s just premature.

His secret to old age – two Oreos and a glass of milk every night – is a secret no longer. Word got to Oreo itself, which sent him a case of cookies last year.

Patrons who have been friendly to him no matter which stadium or decade he’s in, he said, have made it worth it. The knees go first, but he’s still coming back for more.

“I try to be good to everybody,” Coyne said. “Everybody’s been good to me.”

Coyne’s home away from PNC Park is near the intersection of Fifth Avenue and Craig Street, right in the heart of Oakland.

A Pittsburgh legend, you could say.