2013 NLDS Game 5

Lore & Background

The 2013 Pirates were a team built on grit, pitching, and a front office that had been quietly stacking talent for a decade. By the time they reached the NLDS, they had already beaten the New York Mets in the Wild Card game, and the entire city was buzzing with a cautious, almost disbelieving excitement. The Cardinals, however, were the reigning NL Central champions and a far more experienced postseason team. Pittsburgh was down 3-1 after four games in St. Louis, and the weight of a 21-year playoff drought hung over every at-bat.

Game 5 at PNC Park carried the energy of a must-win. The crowd was electric from the first pitch, and the game stayed knifely tight through nine full innings. When the bottom of the 10th arrived, the tension in the ballpark was almost physical. Josh Harrison, who had been a quiet but steady presence in the infield all season, reached base to end the game. The image of him rounding the bases while the stands erupted became the defining visual of the 2013 postseason for many fans.

The Pirates lost Game 6 in St. Louis, and the series ended. But in Pittsburgh, Game 5 is remembered not as a near-miss but as the moment the city finally let itself believe October baseball could be real again. It is the game that made the heartbreak of Game 6 possible in the first place.

In Their Own Story

The October air over the North Side was sharp and thin, the kind of cold that makes you pull your jacket tighter even in a packed stadium. PNC Park was a sea of black-and-gold, the rafters alive with a low, sustained roar that never quite broke. Nine innings had passed, and the scoreboard still read 2-2. You could feel the city holding its breath, 30,000 people collectively deciding whether to believe.

Then the 10th. The Cardinals' pitcher wound up, and Harrison's bat met the ball with a clean, sharp crack. The ball rolled, the runner ran, and for a half-second nobody moved. Then the stadium detonated. Strangers hugged. A kid on a father's shoulders screamed so loud the father had to cover his ears. Harrison jogged to first, then stopped, turned, and pointed up at the stands as if to say, *I know. I know. I'm sorry it took so long.*

In the barbershops on Liberty Avenue the next morning, nobody talked about Game 6. They talked about the crack of that bat. They talked about the cold air and the long wait and the single that made it all worth it.

Reader's Guide

The stakes are absolute: the Pirates are down 3-1 in the NLDS, and this is their last home stand of the series. PNC Park is packed, the October air crisp, the crowd noise a near-constant wall of sound from the first pitch.

The game is a pitching duel for nine full innings. The Cardinals' staff keeps the Pirates in check; the Pirates' own pitchers answer in kind. The score creeps to 2-2, and neither side can find the extra run. The tension builds inning by inning, the crowd shifting from hopeful to desperate.

The bottom of the 10th. Two outs. The game is still tied. Josh Harrison steps to the plate. The crowd noise swells to a roar that you feel in your chest. He swings, connects, and the ball is on the ground, rolling toward the base. The runner is safe. The game is over.

The stadium erupts. Harrison rounds the bases slowly, the crowd on its feet, flags waving, strangers weeping. It is not a home run. It is not a grand slam. It is a single, and it is the most important single in Pirates history for a generation of fans.

They lose Game 6. They lose the series. But in Pittsburgh kitchens and barbershops, the story that gets told is the one where the bat cracked and the crowd went wild, because that was the night they finally believed again.

Did You Know?

• The 2013 postseason was the Pirates' first playoff appearance since 1992, a 21-year drought that made every October moment feel like a homecoming.
• Josh Harrison was only 24 years old when he hit the walk-off single, and the 2013 season was his breakout year in the majors.
• The Pirates had to win Game 5 to force a Game 6 in St. Louis; they lost that final game, ending the series 4-2 in favor of the Cardinals.
• The walk-off was a ground-ball single, not a home run, making it all the more memorable as a moment of pure, unglamorous clutch hitting.