Former Pirates pitcher Dave Giusti doesn't bother knocking. His friendship with longtime teammate and Upper St. Clair neighbor since 1972, Steve Blass, is well beyond that. Giusti blows into the Blass house, accepts a beer, plops down on the back patio and commences to swapping stories. These guys are so entertaining they should write a book.

One did, actually.

Blass' "A Pirate For Life" is in the local bookstores.

It's almost as much fun as sitting with the fellas on a gorgeous spring afternoon.

"I thought I had a story worth telling," Blass said. "You can go through something bad career-wise and it doesn't have to destroy you. Work is what you do, it's not who you are."

Few athletes hit the heights that Blass did. He was a World Series hero for the Pirates in 1971, pitching two complete-game wins against the Baltimore Orioles, including the Game 7 clincher. No less than home-run king Hank Aaron told him he had the best slider in the National League.

On the flip side, few athletes crashed and burned the way Blass did. In '72, he was an all-star, finished second in the Cy Young voting and was on the cover of Sports Illustrated. In '73, he couldn't throw a strike. In '74, he was back in the minors. After briefly trying again in spring training in '75, he was out of baseball at 32.

Before the book, Blass never truly revealed his torment to anyone, not even to his family. He always laughed when people talked of other players with control problems having "Steve Blass Disease." But he was crying inside. "Many nights, I would sit in this backyard by myself until 3 or 4 in the morning and keep asking, 'Why is this occurring?' I never had a sore arm. I thought I was going to pitch forever. I just wanted to know why this was happening to me."

Blass never did get his answer or find a solution. Certainly, he tried everything, meeting with a hypnotist and a psychologist, practicing transcendental meditation, even switching to loose underwear because a hunter wrote to him that tight underwear threw his aim off.

"I was embarrassed and humiliated," Blass wrote in the book's first chapter. "I was thinking about getting rid of my bathroom mirror because I didn't like what I saw ... I think people felt sorry for me, and that bothered me."

Don't get the wrong idea. Blass' book is hardly a downer even though he writes extensively about his emotions during his fall. "After the first chapter, the rest is a fairy tale," he said. "I lived my dream."

Blass is a fabulous storyteller, as anyone who has heard him as a much-in-demand public speaker knows. There's the requisite bawdy clubhouse humor involving former teammates Manny Sanguillen, Gene Michael, Charlie Sands and, of course, Giusti. There are great memories of Pirates Hall of Famers Roberto Clemente -- Blass delivered the eulogy at his memorial service -- and Bill Mazeroski, who offered Blass the best advice any player can offer another about being a pro and not making excuses. "People want to know why you did, not why you didn't." There also are terrific tales involving Blass' broadcast partners, including Pittsburgh legends Bob Prince and Mike Lange.

But Blass shared more than just his admirable humor in the book. He wrote of sending his son, David, away at 15 to live with relatives after the boy kept fighting kids who said his dad was a bum. "Funny, those same kids were asking him for my autograph the year before," Blass said. He wrote of his struggles with drinking and gambling after he left baseball. He wrote of his wife, Karen, leaving him for 10 months in 1987. He wrote of crashing his car into a tree not long after and being arrested for DUI.

"What good is a book if you aren't going to be honest?" Blass asked. "Maybe people are wondering: 'What is this guy really like?' "

The short answer:

Blass is human.

The guess here is people will forgive Blass for his warts. He has been a popular member of the Pirates broadcast team for 27 years. It hasn't always been easy. The team likely is headed to a 20th consecutive losing season. But Blass said he has loved every minute.

"The Pirates gave me a chance when I was 18 years old. They will have my loyalty forever."

Blass turned 70 April 18. He said he doesn't have many goals left. He wants to spend more time with his family, including a new great-grandson. He also wants to keep broadcasting after his contract is up after the 2013 season.

"Those two years [of his fall] didn't take away my love of the game," Blass said. "That's one of the things that mean the most to me. I still love going to the ballpark ...

"If I have a regret, it's that I thought I could have been good for the game into my 40s. I was a great representative of baseball. I projected the joy of the game."

Blass does have one other goal even if he knows it's unachievable. He wants to be liked by everyone. "It's almost an obsession of mine to try to make people laugh or smile," he wrote in the book.

Blass grinned when he was reminded of that passage.

"I don't apologize for it or think of it as a negative," he said. "I'm a pretty happy boy."

Just as you'll be a happy person after you read Blass' book. It's the next best thing to sipping a cold beer on his patio.

First Published: May 6, 2012, 8:00 a.m.