Jun. 28—Charles Conko was 5 years old when his father first talked to him about Roberto Clemente. Watch the Puerto Rican kid with the rocket arm, talent and flair, Stephen Conko said. There’s something different about him.
Stephen Conko never played organized baseball. Just endless games of pickup sports, whether it was baseball, football, basketball or hockey. Known for his relentless positivity, Stephen Conko adored Clemente.
“Great gentleman, cared about people and had to overcome overwhelming odds,” Charles Conko told me this past week, discussing Clemente. “Ever since that moment, my favorite number has been 21.”
You know Conko better as Chuck in Uniontown, the diehard Pirates fan who’s been a regular on call-in shows since the late 1980s. Conko’s passion for baseball is unmatched, as he hardly ever misses an opportunity to air his opinion.
But the incredible part is what exists beyond the baseball talk or postgame reactions.
It’s how Conko — who has cerebral palsy — has overcome his own overwhelming odds. The love of baseball and warm personality passed down from his dad, as well as how Chuck in Uniontown refuses to quit on his Pirates, no matter how frustrated he might be with the on-field product or team owner Bob Nutting.
“It’s in my blood. It’s family,” Conko said. “You get mad at your kids when they’re growing up. They frustrate you. They might do things you don’t want them to do, but you don’t turn your back on them.
“The Pirates have been my team since I was a little kid. They’re still part of the daily fabric around here and a part of me. You just don’t throw that away.”
Like you, I’ve heard Chuck’s calls for years. I’ve also interacted with him as a host on 93.7 The Fan. But not until a trip this past week to meet Chuck did I truly understand the man behind the phone calls.
Suffice to say, it’s something I won’t soon forget.
Image Description(Sebastian Foltz/Post-Gazette)
—-Hanging above the TV where Chuck watches Pirates games and the landline phone he uses to call the postgame show are two glass cases that include some awesome memorabilia.
Coffee mugs commemorating championships. Old-school bobbleheads. Signed balls. A replica Stanley Cup and even an old bottle of whiskey.
What carries more weight, though, is a picture that hangs off to the side of his dad, who died in 1981.
Stephen Conko had a profound impact on Chuck, who’s the youngest of seven kids, passing on his love of baseball and gentlemanly approach to life. Chuck told me how his dad loved exercise and would sometimes walk clear across Connellsville just to attend morning mass.
Stephen and Chuck would also talk baseball. Relentlessly. About Clemente and those Pirates teams. About Bob Prince. About whatever.
“It got to the point where my mom would say, ‘Chuck, do you talk to your father about anything besides baseball?'” Chuck said, laughing. “But that was the highlight of my day.”
That and his time in church.
For an 18-year stretch starting in 1999, when he moved into his current apartment, Chuck would attend daily mass at a nearby Catholic church.
That lasted until Chuck’s eyesight started to go and the mass schedule was reduced. Now he tries to get there twice a week.
Religion matters a great deal to Chuck in Uniontown, who has two crosses hanging on his bedroom wall next to pictures of Clemente.
“I start every day by thanking God,” Chuck said. “I tell people there are two things that define me: going to mass and Pirates baseball. In that order. You have to keep God first.”
The perspective Chuck has on life is remarkable. Inspirational, really. Because he easily could’ve been bitter.
Chuck
—-When Chuck was about 16 months old, his parents began to notice several developmental delays, primarily an inability to sit up, walk or feed himself. Eventually, Chuck was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, and his parents “didn’t sugarcoat things.”
“They told me from an early age that life wouldn’t be easy for me, that I wasn’t made the same way as my brothers and sisters,” Chuck said. “And the sooner I learned to accept that, instead of wishing or blaming certain things, the better off I was going to be.”
It may sound harsh now, but that way of operating has governed Chuck’s life.
Despite mobility and vision issues, Chuck became a certified public accountant, work he continues to this day. Since 1983, Chuck has also lived on his own, requiring some personal-care help. But the 73-year-old is also hugely proud of his independence.
“I just completed my 51st year of doing income taxes. I can still fix meals on the stove for myself and I can still see you,” Chuck said, explaining how lost his left eye due to a detached retina in 2011 and has a cataract in half of his right one.
Chuck then pointed to his head, indicating how his thoughts and feelings are as sharp as ever, even if he’s no longer able to write them down.
“Only God knows the reason why he made me like this,” Chuck said. “But you don’t fight with God. You accept it and live life the best you can.”
Chuck in Uniontown
—-That existence would be better with a few more Pirates victories, Chuck admits. And, yeah, he’s neither a fan of Nutting nor general manager Ben Cherington … but especially the Pirates owner.
Chuck said he’s “very, very angry at that man” before explaining why he’s grown increasingly frustrated with his favorite team under Nutting’s ownership.
“Where are the championships?” Chuck said. “Where are the competitors? Our all-time record … the Pirates are finally on the losing side of the ledger. Back in the ’60s and ’70s, they were plus-500 or so [plus-527 in 1979].
“Bob Nutting too many times has shown that he won’t spend and won’t do things the way championship organizations should do them. And it’s not just the size of the market. Run down the list: Cleveland, Tampa Bay, Kansas City and Milwaukee.
“Yes, it can be done. But he’s too bull-headed. Excuse me. I’m sorry.”
I told Chuck there’s nothing he could say that would offend me.
“Look at the results,” Chuck continued. “The NL Central has existed since 1994. There’s only one team that has never won it. The Pirates are also the National League team that has gone the longest without being in the World Series.
“You mean to tell me Bob Nutting is proud of that? I’m sorry. The guy likes to make money, but here’s the thing: He could make more money if he had a championship team or even a competitive team. You wouldn’t be able to get a seat at PNC Park.”
Chuck in Uniontown, like it is with most things, isn’t wrong. He’s also not alone.
But as frustrated as Chuck might be, the same as his dad taught him, he refuses to quit. Chuck will keep calling and calling and offering his opinions, and he’ll do so in a way that honors his dad.
Chuck’s memorabilia(Sebastian Foltz/Post-Gazette)
—-During the day or whenever enough natural light fills his apartment, Chuck will watch games on his TV. But at night, vision becomes an issue. So Chuck will listen on the Bose radio he keeps next to his bed.
The last time Chuck attended a game in person was 2013. He misses it but lamented the concerns with transportation to and from Uniontown, as well as maneuvering around PNC Park.
When the game ends, Chuck will immediately call the radio station and secure his place in the queue, waiting patiently on hold for the host to put him on the air.
Chuck never holds back with his opinion. Occasionally he’ll deliver some quippy lines, and this season you can certainly sense the increased frustration. But there’s one thing Chuck will never do.
“I do not use profanity,” Chuck said. “You can express yourself in other ways without having to do that. It’s not good conduct.”
That’s the sort of thing Stephen Conko taught Chuck long ago: Put God first, love baseball, be grateful for what you have, don’t swear, and treat people well.
A stranger to so many of us and known only through his radio moniker, Chuck’s story tells us so much more about his loyalty, drive and, yes, passion for Pirates baseball.
In many ways, Chuck represents the best of us, an unlikely example emanating from an apartment in Uniontown occupied by a lifelong fan who’s never been lucky enough to play the game.
“People can’t see me, but they can hear me,” Chuck said. “All they know about me or my persona is what comes through the radio. When I call in, I’m representing myself, my family, my hometown and my religion. I also keep in mind that there are usually kids listening. If I act like a jerk, they’ll think, ‘Who’s that clown?’
“You can go an awful long way being kind to people and treating them well. You won’t go very far if you act like a jerk.”
We’ve come a long way with Chuck in Uniontown weaving his opinions into our daily baseball lives. I can only hope Chuck gets to experience the happiness that would come with the Pirates turning things around.
If anyone deserves it, it’s him.
Charles
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