For 38 years, the sound of baseballs popping mitts at Stan Lederman Field — just beyond the Blue Slide Park in Frick Park — has been synonymous with one man: Randy Frankel.

But as the Squirrel Hill Baseball Association prepares for its 2026 season, an era is coming to a close. Frankel, the organization's president and director since 1988, is passing the torch to Tad Conlin, a move that marks the end of a remarkable near four-decade run.

“It's time for a new face,” Frankel, 76, said. “I've had somebody that's been working with me for four years who's phenomenal, who's gonna hopefully take it to the next level.”

That somebody is Conlin, a father who, like Frankel himself, got involved by coaching his son.

Frankel’s journey began simply enough. A New York native and self-described “go-getter,” he moved to Pittsburgh and settled in Squirrel Hill. When his son Andy was 8, a coach moved away and Frankel stepped in. He never really stepped out.

He grew up playing baseball on Long Island, N.Y., but he still eased into coaching. He started as a volunteer assistant.

As he grew in his role, Frankel, ever the innovator, had the idea to add a fall league. He brought that idea to then-president Stan Lederman.

“[Lederman] said, ‘That sounds like a great idea. I don't have the capacity for it, but if you want to run with it and start a fall league, go for it,’” Frankel’s eldest son Andy recounted.

In 1987, the league began its first season of fall baseball.

“At the time we were the first ones really to ever have a fall league,” Frankel said. “We got kids from all over the city — not just Squirrel Hill — that participated.”

In an era long before the current climate of travel baseball circuits and year-round, single-sport athletes, Frankel saw an opportunity to provide kids with more exposure to baseball.

When Lederman, who ran the league for 15 years, retired, Frankel took over. He was at the helm for 38 years.

“Someone doing anything that long is exceptional," said Conlin. “This essentially was a job for him. First and foremost it is just a dedication to doing something such as this for almost 40 years. I would venture to say no one ever has and no one ever will again."

What kept him there? Frankel says it was always the people.

“My experience running the league has been the most rewarding of my life, as I have gotten to know so many wonderful players, parents, coaches and extended family that make Squirrel Hill Baseball the special organization that it is,” he said in a press release announcing the transition.

Frankel showed his willingness to go above and beyond from his first day. In his first year at the helm, opening day was set for a Sunday, but, as spring in Pittsburgh is wont to do, rain had poured down the Thursday before. Frankel, on a whim, called WPXI. He had no specific connection there, but he thought they still might respond to his request. WPXI did, and here was a traffic helicopter hovering over Stan Lederman Field drying off the playing surface. One problem:

“The forecast was supposed to be great,” Frankel recalled. “Then Saturday night, it poured again and the field was just like the day before.

“I actually had the nerve to call them again.”

The chopper returned “first thing Sunday morning,” and opening day was saved once more.

Frankel was willing to do anything to ensure his players had fun. Which is also why he spent a hefty sum to be the only Little League team to hold the awards ceremony first at Three Rivers Stadium, and then PNC Park. 

That sentiment is echoed in countless stories, from the famous to the deeply personal. He recalls the thrill of seeing rapper Mac Miller’s brother, Miller McCormick, hit his first home run (only to be called out for an illegal bat), and quiet moments sitting in the outfield with Steelers coach Mike Tomlin, who “just wanted to be a dad,” watching his kids play. But the moments that mean the most are the ones you won't find in a headline.

“There was a child once who had Asperger's syndrome,” he said, his voice softening. “He was short-tempered and got into fights in other leagues, and he was basically tossed out.

“We took him under our wings and watched him closely. To this day, the father tells me he's indebted to me, that his son was a success because I stayed with him. That, to me, is one of the most satisfying things.”

This philosophy of inclusion has been a hallmark of the league. Under Frankel, the association became a place where Orthodox Jewish teams could thrive, with schedules carefully built around the Sabbath and holidays.

“We're probably the only league around that has Orthodox teams,” Frankel said. “We will never schedule a game for them on Friday evenings or Saturdays. I worked around the schedule, and it worked.”

But it wasn’t just the Jewish community. Frankel ensured diversity was promoted in the organization, not shied away from.

Through a connection with the Jewish Community Center, Frankel and the Squirrel Hill Baseball Association were early adopters of Challenger teams, an adaptive baseball program for individuals with physical and intellectual challenges.

“We played every Sunday against other Challenger programs throughout the city,” Frankel recalled. “Every one of the kids there, whether they're in a wheelchair or they're on crutches, had a buddy — meaning one of our kids, maybe a 12- or 13-year-old kid. It was like a one-on-one thing. He helped them go around the bases if he was in a wheelchair, or helped him walk around the bases, or helped him swing the bat.”

Those teams were the early precursor to today’s Miracle League teams, which led to the development of Miracle League fields specifically designed for players with disabilities.

Squirrel Hill added girls softball teams over a decade ago.

Frankel, rarely without the phone attached to his ear, was often on the receiving end of calls from coaches around the area. That notoriety led to some awesome opportunities for his teams.

Frankel was contacted by international teams looking for games. He recalls one such occasion when a team from Australia came to Pittsburgh.

“We gave them Terrible Towels and they gave us wooden boomerangs,” he said. “Those are the things I think our kids never will forget, that they played a team from Australia.”

There were also teams from Russia, Israel and Canada. Many came in the late 1990s and early 2000s, but also as recently as three years ago.

It’s that blend of big-picture thinking and personal touch that defined Frankel’s leadership. Conlin describes him as an “everyman” who put the organization first.

Conlin is now focused on modernizing the league — updating the website and registration process, boosting its social media presence, and building on the corporate sponsorships he’s helped secure. He laughs about one of Frankel's more endearing quirks: his analog system.

For years, registration meant a phone call to Randy, who would scribble a name in a giant tattered binder and, for many families, simply run the same credit card every season, year after year.

“The joke around town will be, 'Oh yeah, I think Randy's still running my credit card every spring,’” Conlin said with a chuckle. “It’s how he did business. It’s how he built the league.”

Frankel readily admits the digital world has passed him by, and he's thrilled to see Conlin's energy and “stick- to it-iveness” take the league forward. He’ll stay on the board for two years to ensure a smooth transition.

“Despite these changes, you haven't seen the last of me!” he said in the press release. “I will continue to be at the field as much as possible, and look forward to seeing each of you in just a few, short months when we 'play ball' once again.”

As he steps back, Frankel looks forward to spending more time with his wife, Terri (his “all-time MVP”), his five children and seven grandchildren. But the league will always be a part of him. He’s seen players he coached four decades ago coaching their own kids in this league. He’s watched kids grow up to become lawyers, doctors and even Pittsburgh’s mayor, as did Corey O'Connor, a longtime friend and former coaching partner.

Frankel built a strong bond with mayor Bob O’Connor, and that relationship flowed down to the next generation. When Bob O’Connor died in 2006, Frankel began a tournament in his honor and named a yearly award after the former mayor.

For Conlin, the path forward is clear: Honor the legacy while building for the future.

“Everyone in the community knows Randy,” he said. “The breadth of his reach is everywhere through Little League Baseball. He's an institution, not just in Pittsburgh, but in the greater Pittsburgh area. I'll do my best to keep the league alive.”

And thanks to the foundation Frankel built over 38 years, that legacy is in very good hands.

First Published: March 3, 2026, 4:00 a.m.
Updated: March 4, 2026, 8:53 a.m.