Every time some poor sod m***s a grounder or throws a catastrophic gopher-ball, he runs the risk of becoming a goat, pariah, a lasting symbol of failure, and incurring the bitter wrath of a generation of fans. But usually the very play that becomes so engrained in our consciousness is but the tip of the proverbial iceberg, the c**mination of a series of mishaps, mistakes and coincidences. Bill Buckner's legacy should never have been hung solely on a squirrelly nubber that got by him. There was so much more to the story...
If Bobby Ojeda hadn't raged at Sullivan and Yawkey, and hadn't been traded to the Mets for Calvin Schiraldi. If Oil Can Boyd hadn't been such a nut case, and Jim Rice had twice taken an easy extra base. If the Red Sox had had a better playoff 4th starter -- instead Nipper served up a big fat slider to Carter. What would Seaver have done if not for his b** knee? Would he have taken the ball and exacted revenge on his old team? If Gooden had pitched like the real Dr. K, or Donnie Moore hadn't had that nightmare day, that stuck with him till he couldn't take anymore, and turned his own kitchen into a killing floor.
And John McNamara what the hell was he thinking? Was it him, not the party boy Mets, doing all the drinking? If he'd hit Baylor for Buckner and yanked the first baseman for his by-the-book late inning defensive replacement, that ball would have been snagged (if it'd ever been hit), and Mookie's last name wouldn't now be "86".
Bob Stanley picked a pretty bad time to uncork a wild pitch, and I'm sure he's still thinking that you could have blocked it, Rich. Then the tying run might have not been tallied by Mitch. If one play killed the Sox, can you please tell me which?
I guess everything happens for some sort of reason, and there must be a tragic end to every long season. But if even one man doesn't do one thing he does, we'd all know Bill Buckner for just what he was: a pretty tough out for the Dodgers, Red Sox and Cubs. Ten thousand at bats and close to three thousand hits. And he stole plenty of bases before his legs quit. As tough to walk as he was to strike out -- but there's only one play that ever gets talked about.
Now some kind of fame lies in being a scapegoat. And if
not that, then you're just an historical footnote. And
your 22 years playing ball might be forgotten. Maybe
Bill Buckner was lucky his luck was so rotten.
If Bobby Ojeda hadn't raged at Sullivan and Yawkey, and hadn't been traded to the Mets for Calvin Schiraldi. If Oil Can Boyd hadn't been such a nut case, and Jim Rice had twice taken an easy extra base. If the Red Sox had had a better playoff 4th starter -- instead Nipper served up a big fat slider to Carter. What would Seaver have done if not for his b** knee? Would he have taken the ball and exacted revenge on his old team? If Gooden had pitched like the real Dr. K, or Donnie Moore hadn't had that nightmare day, that stuck with him till he couldn't take anymore, and turned his own kitchen into a killing floor.
And John McNamara what the hell was he thinking? Was it him, not the party boy Mets, doing all the drinking? If he'd hit Baylor for Buckner and yanked the first baseman for his by-the-book late inning defensive replacement, that ball would have been snagged (if it'd ever been hit), and Mookie's last name wouldn't now be "86".
Bob Stanley picked a pretty bad time to uncork a wild pitch, and I'm sure he's still thinking that you could have blocked it, Rich. Then the tying run might have not been tallied by Mitch. If one play killed the Sox, can you please tell me which?
I guess everything happens for some sort of reason, and there must be a tragic end to every long season. But if even one man doesn't do one thing he does, we'd all know Bill Buckner for just what he was: a pretty tough out for the Dodgers, Red Sox and Cubs. Ten thousand at bats and close to three thousand hits. And he stole plenty of bases before his legs quit. As tough to walk as he was to strike out -- but there's only one play that ever gets talked about.
Now some kind of fame lies in being a scapegoat. And if
not that, then you're just an historical footnote. And
your 22 years playing ball might be forgotten. Maybe
Bill Buckner was lucky his luck was so rotten.