Soul of the Diamond: Steelers Softball Edition

By Dave Parsons

There are a lot of summer nights that drift by that you will never remember.  And then some record themselves in your memory.  July 14, 2025, was one of the latter. It wasn’t your regular Monday evening.

EQT Park, home of the Washington Wild Things, was the setting. A slow breeze teased the American flag in center field as families streamed in the front gates with dads in Pirates hats, Steelers jerseys, and kids toting Terrible Towels. It was community in motion, and it was Pittsburgh pride, except it was 30 miles south of the city.

And at the heart of it all was Cam Heyward, the Steelers’ Pro Bowl defensive captain, standing not in shoulder pads but in softball cleats. Towering and grinning, he was shaking hands on the field, joking with kids along the dugout, and waving to folks in Section 104 like he was running for mayor.

But this wasn’t for politics. This was for something better. This was for a purpose.

For the fifth year, Cam’s Three Rivers Celebrity Softball Game turned EQT Park into a gathering of goodwill and hometown joy. The mission was to raise money and awareness for The Heyward House, the foundation Cam built from the legacy of his late father, NFL fullback Craig “Ironhead” Heyward. And the crowd of 3,000 and some had come not just to watch celebrities swing for the fences, but to be part of something bigger.

Teenagers posed in front of Heyward House banners. Retired teachers caught up with old students in line for soft pretzels. And in every corner of the park, there was laughter, the kind that you don’t hear on every playground in Western Pennsylvania. This was more than a game. This was a gathering of hearts. The celebrities who came to swing for the fences, the fans who came to watch them do that, and a sweet mix between fun and philanthropy.

In a game featuring more laughs than strikeouts, the rosters included hometown boys and girls who had made good, and, of course, Steelers old and new, all trying to remember how to hold a bat. But let’s be honest, Cam Heyward was the show.

The Heyward House was born not out of fame, but out of memory. Cam Heyward was just 17 when he lost his father, Craig “Ironhead” Heyward, to a brain tumor. Craig had been a bruising NFL fullback, a beloved figure in Pittsburgh’s sports lore. But to Cam, he was Dad, and when Craig was gone, Cam carried his spirit forward…to Ohio State…and then to the Steelers.

And in 2015, to The Heyward House Foundation.

Its mission is as personal as it is powerful: to empower, enlighten, and engage youth.  Most especially those growing up in circumstances Cam knows too well. Through programs like Craig’s Closet, which gives free suits and dress clothes to young men preparing for job interviews or formal events, Cam ensures dignity walks into every room with them.

There’s also work with Beverly’s Birthdays, KidsVoice, and Greater Pittsburgh Community Food Bank, not to mention recurring partnerships with UPMC Children’s Hospital and cancer support initiatives. And through it all, the foundation stays local. The kind of charity where volunteers know the kids’ names and remember their dreams.

Quite a few of those kids heard Cam call their name during warm-ups.  He fist-bumped the kids, joked with the umpires, and looked like everyone’s favorite relative who invited them over on a Monday evening for a game in his backyard. 

Heyward had a terrific guest list as well:

Current Steeler players like Christian Kuntz, Jack Sawyer, and Alex Highsmith.

Former Steeler players like Duck Hodges, Jesse James, and James Harrison.

And folks with ties to the area, like Kendall Vertas from Dance Moms, and Chris Kirkpatrick from N’Sync. 

This wasn’t the All-Star Game. It was better. It was community baseball with star power. Celebrities grounded by charity, playing for laughs, memories, and a deeper mission. 

The game? Gloriously chaotic.

No one will likely remember the final score….and no one cares. The only thing at stake was bragging rights, and whether anyone would ever find the ball that Jack Sawyer hit in the first inning.  There were plenty of home runs, though most involved jogs interrupted by selfie stops and face-first dives into home plate for the photo ops.  The dugouts? Half-game, half-comedy club.

No, I will not repeat the dugout banter here, though.

And watching Cam grin the whole time. You could tell he wasn’t just playing the game; he was hosting a celebration.

There was an impromptu home run derby after the game itself, and Cam addressed the crowd to say thank you as the kids who were throwing the home run derby balls back to the infield gathered around.  As the teams lined up for team photos on the field, dozens more kids descended through an open gate that one of them found.  Cam and friends signed every autograph and took every selfie.

On the way out, I met Marcia, a single mom from McMurray, who brought her 12-year-old son to the game for the third year in a row.  We can’t afford Steelers games, she said, tears behind her sunglasses, but we never miss this.

This was no ordinary charity event. It is a transmission of kindness through sport. A passing of legacy through laughter. A reminder that strength isn’t only measured in sacks or home runs, but in showing up, year after year, when nobody’s watching but the people who need you most. Communities that sometimes forget they matter.

And the people came. They brought their stories, their griefs, their giggles, and their kids. They brought their respect for Craig Heyward’s memory and their awe for what his son has become—not just a Pro Bowler, but a caretaker of his city’s spirit

And that is why, under a July sky in a small Pennsylvania town, people walked away from this lighter, hopeful, and a little more human than when they arrived.  Because in the world of fame, noise fades. But in the world of legacy, the quiet gestures echo the loudest.