Generational Loyalty

This little pirate stands in full uniform — coat, boots, hat, skull and crossbones — ready to represent Pittsburgh with appropriate swagger. Then you get to the face. Or rather, the lack of one. A brown paper bag has been pulled over his head, reducing generations of civic pride to two eyeholes and a crease.

The joke borrows from one of sports fandom’s great acts of public humiliation. During the New Orleans Saints’ miserable 1980 season, fans began showing up with paper bags over their heads rather than be publicly identified with the team. The Saints finished 1–15. Pittsburgh baseball fans may recognize the emotional architecture.

What makes the image work is the collision of symbols. The pirate costume is theatrical, proud and ridiculous in all the right ways. The bag is ordinary, anonymous and defeated. Put them together and you get something painfully familiar: loyalty surviving long after dignity has left the building.

Because real fandom isn’t rational. You inherit it. You defend it. You complain about it relentlessly.

And somehow, you still show up tomorrow.