I grew up in the shadow of Pittsburgh (with an H), PA and lived there before I moved to SF, and this remote bar has all the charms of a Polish Hill local. Come here to watch the Stillers, the Bucs, and the Pens DOMinate! An den't be a jagoff n'at, yinz guys.
Citysearch Editorial Review. Dark and musty with Jethro Tull on the juke, Pittsburgh’s Pub is the Taj Mahal of dive bars. A hardcore local crew calls “The Pitt” home and it’s not uncommon to find the barkeep pouring brews when they open at 8am. Pirates and Steelers paraphernalia decorate the interior (the bar is owned by a Pennsylvania transplant) and catchy signs like “Blitzburg—a drinking town with a football problem” add a touch of rustbelt class. The fireplace with a raised hearth is the warmest seat in the house, and a single solitary booth in the corner is perfect for all kinds of shadowy debauchery. Two pool tables and pinball machines and an arcade game offer bell-and-whistle excitement, but the patrons consistently put on the best show. Any given Saturday evening's performance could include a crapulent codger with three front teeth interrupting a story about his recent fender-bender to vomit in the bathroom.
Now Pittsburgh's Pub.. The sign outside should read "Kelly's Bar and No Atmosphere." It's about as desolate and flat as the Outer Sunset scene, and its lit more like a cafeteria than a pub. In one corner there's even one of those infamous 7-11 style hoot dog machines only Homer Simpson could love (except this one's empty). A place where bored neighborhood stragglers can slouch in anonymity and watch nature shows about gorillas on the TV monitors. The good news is that early drinkers can get $2 happy hour beers and people who like a bit of sport with their drink can join dart or pool tournaments or come for the Sunday football pool. (M.G.)
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