My best memory of Bill Buckner
My
first memory of Bill Buckner is NOT a ground ball through the five hole.
It’s of
him granting me a one-on-one interview in the Cubs dugout in HoHoKam Park in
Mesa during spring training of 1983. Billy Buck, as he was known then, already was
in a foul mood with Cubs general manager Dallas Green and manager Lee Elia and
at odds with the Chicago media which I did know when I made my interview
request.
He
paused.
“What
paper are you from?” he asked through that bushy mustache.
“Rockford
Register Star,” I replied.
He
paused again. His bushy eyebrows raised. “OK,” he said, “Sit down.”
I can’t
recall what questions I asked him and if he gave me any profound or even
interesting answers. It was a spring training puff piece looking ahead to the
1983 season, and I was just delighted that Billy Buck was giving me the time of
day.
As it
turned out, the Cubs’ 1983 season set into motion Buckner’s move to Boston and
his infamous moment with the Red Sox. In April of 1983 Lee Elia, who got into a
fist fight with Buckner in the dugout in June of the previous season, went
ballistic in a post-game press conference laced with F bombs, MFs, and crude
references to fellatio following another Cubs loss at Wrigley Field. Basically,
Elia accused all Cubs fans who were booing the team of being clueless and
jobless. Less than four months later, Elia was clueless and jobless, too. The
Cubs fired him.
In the
meantime, Dallas Green was continuing to look to trade Billy Buck and move
slugging leftfielder Leon Durham to first base. It wasn’t until May of 1984
that Green unloaded Buckner to the Red Sox for Dennis Eckersley. Eck helped the
Cubs win their first title of any kind since the 1945 and Durham, well, he made
a crucial error in the fifth and final game of the NLCS that allowed the San
Diego Padres to score the game-tying run en route to the World Series.
Only
Cubs fans talk about Durham’s error. Everyone talks about Buckner’s error.
You
know the sob story. Mookie Wilson’s ground ball with two outs in the bottom of the
10th inning rolled between Buckner’s legs to score the winning run in Game Six
of the 1986 World Series that the Mets won in seven games. It’s an error that
has lived in infamy ever since. A Boston Sports “Great 80s” highlight film put
music to Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” to the play accompanying the sound
of Vin Scully saying … "So,
the winning run is at second base... with two out...
3 and 2 to Mookie Wilson. Little
roller up along first... BEHIND THE BAG! IT GETS THROUGH BUCKNER! HERE COMES
KNIGHT, AND THE METS WIN IT!"
It was
an error that never should have happened and never should have defined
Buckner’s otherwise illustrious 22-year major league career.
Here is
the real story. First, Buckner should not have been playing first in that
situation. Red Sox manager John McNamara had inserted Dave Stapleton as a
late-inning defensive replacement at first base for Buckner when the Red Sox
led in Games 1, 2, and 5 because Buckner was hobbled by bad ankles. McNamara
years later asserted Buckner was a better first baseman than Stapleton yet
still felt comfortable enough to play Stapleton at first with the Red Sox ahead
in their three previous World Series wins in the ’86 World Series.
Next
the tying run should have been at third base and given Buckner and Boston a
second chance. Ray Knight was at second base after Red Sox reliever Bob Stanley
uncorked a wild pitch that got past catcher Rich Gedman, allowing Knight to get
from first into scoring position. I fault Stanley more than any other player
that night for the meltdown and it is the wild pitch that I remember more than
the error. It was a potential third strike pitch that wound up at the backstop.
Years
later, when I first met Red Sox pitcher Bill Lee for the first time, the first
thing out of his mouth when I told him I was a Red Sox fan was, “Where were you
at the Buckner game?”
Red Sox
fans can recall the exact place they were when the Buckner error occurred. It
is our “Where Were You When JFK Was Assassinated” like moment.
I was at
a burger-and-beer joint in Milwaukee called the SafeHouse. You need a password
to get in. I was in Milwaukee covering the San Francisco 49ers-Green Bay
Packers game when the Packers used to play two games a year at County Stadium. The
49ers won starting their third-string quarterback, Mike Moroski out of Novato,
who replaced Joe Montana and back-up Jeff Kemp, both injured coming into the
game.
The
night before in SafeHouse I was watching in horror as the Red Sox’ 5-3 lead was
evaporating. Calvin Schiraldi retired the first two Mets batters. The Red Sox
were one out from their first World Series championship since 1918. The Curse
of the Bambino was about to get 86ed in 86!
Then
three straight hits and a run off Schiraldi and I remember my legs literally
buckling when McNamara came to the mound and signaled to the bullpen for the
righthander and that meant Stanley. I had about as much faith in Bob Stanley in
1986 as the air in Chernobyl.
My
worst fears came true. Mookie Wilson fouled off three potential third strike
pitches before Stanley’s next pitch went so far inside that Gedman couldn’t
move his body to stop it. Game tied. With Knight now getting a big lead off
second base, two more potential third-strike pitches were fouled off. Then
Wilson hit the little roller along first …
Pause …
I need a moment …
The Red
Sox blew a 3-0 lead and lost Game Seven and that kept Buckner on the hook as
perhaps the greatest scapegoat of all-time even though they were many
scapegoats surrounding him in Game Six.
“I
can’t remember the last time I missed a ball like that, but I’ll remember that
one,” Buckner said after the game.
So has
everyone else. Buckner became the punchline for a sporting nation. He was the
starting first baseman on Opening Day for the Red Sox the next year and few
remember that Red Sox fans gave him a standing ovation on that day during
pre-game introductions. Yet it wasn’t
until Opening Day 22 years later – ironically Buckner’s jersey number was 22 with
the Cubs – that Buckner and Boston forgave each other. He received a
four-minute standing ovation before wiping tears from his eyes to make the
ceremonial first pitch.
I hope
that is the lasting memory of Bill Buckner. That sight of forgiveness and not
the sight of bitterness. Unfortunately, baseball historians will forever remember
one error and not his 2,715 career hits, more than Red Sox legends Ted
Williams, Jimmie Foxx, and David Ortiz accumulated in their playing days.
Me? The
one-on-one interview with Billy Buck means more than the one error. I was just
happy to have met the man and have him talk to me.