Three Pirates New Year's Resolutions

The potential arrival of baseball’s top prospect, Konnor Griffin, brings a thrilling but delicate kind of pressure. The 19-year-old’s 2025 minor league campaign was a work of art, a showcase of five-tool talent that improved as he climbed each level. The temptation to rush such a prodigy to PNC Park will be immense, especially for a fanbase starved for a new superstar. The resolution here must be one of disciplined patience, coupled with decisive action.

Griffin must not be forced to the majors to sell tickets or fill a temporary hole; his development is the franchise’s most valuable long-term asset. However, rigid service-time manipulation that holds back a player who is clearly ready would be its own form of failure, a different kind of disrespect to the competitive process.

If Griffin continues to perform in the minors, demonstrating he has nothing left to prove there, the Pirates must have the courage to let him prove it on the biggest stage. This isn’t about calendars; it’s about competence. Handling Griffin correctly means insulating him from desperation but not from opportunity.

Resolution 3: Honor the Legacy and the Faithful

Perhaps the most profound resolution requires no on-field talent, only institutional integrity. In recent years, the relationship between the Pirates and their supporters has been bruised by a series of self-inflicted wounds that insult the intelligence and passion of the fanbase. The “Bucco Bricks” controversy — where fan-purchased commemorative bricks were removed and found at a recycling facility, with the team offering delayed and unclear explanations — struck at a deeply personal chord.

This followed the misstep of removing Roberto Clemente’s number from the outfield wall for an alcohol advertisement, a tone-deaf decision that required a public apology and a reversal of the action. These are not baseball decisions; they are failures of stewardship. They communicate a jarring disconnect, a sense that the sacred symbols of community and history are transactional.

The resolution for 2026 must be a solemn vow to end this pattern. It means treating the fans as partners in the journey, not as a demographic to be managed. It means understanding that Clemente’s number isn’t just a logo, and that a brick with a grandfather’s name isn’t just pavement. Winning back trust requires a consistent, transparent respect that has too often been absent. A team that asks for its city’s heart must first show it has one of its own.

The path to the 2026 playoffs is not written in the stars, but in the choices of an organization. It is paved by building a worthy lineup around Skenes, by nurturing Griffin with both care and conviction, and by finally demonstrating, through every action, that the franchise values its legacy and its fans as much as it claims to. In the celebration of this New Year’s Eve, that is the hope worth holding; that this time, the resolve will match the potential waiting under the lights at PNC Park.