Any contemplative person, especially one in the dark side of his 70s, will readily admit that LIFE isn’t fair.
Even in death.
News broke yesterday afternoon, that William Joseph Buckner had passed away at the young age of 69.
For the last 33 years of Buckner’s life, on more than one occasion that adage of LIFE proved be true, sometimes in the ugliest fashions.
Why you ask?
Because in the early morning of October 26, 1986, Bill Buckner’s life entered the Twilight Zone.
Buckner at the time was a member of the Boston Red Sox, most of the time playing first base.
It was Game 6 of the World Series against the New York Mets, and we’re in the bottom of the 10th inning.
The Red Sox had already blown a two-run lead.
In steps Mets batter, Mookie Wilson.
Suddenly, the axis of the universe stops rotating, as…
Two nights later the Mets won Game 7, extending to 68 years a Sox drought that wouldn’t die until it turned 86.
Buckner was chased out of Boston!
He came back to Fenway for a Sox encore, to cheers, in 1990, briefly, but after he retired he had to seek asylum in Idaho to forsake the maddening crowd.
He spoke later of a constant bitterness that filled him. And, something that is NOT offered up enough, his wife and family endured every horrific moment with him, year after year.
Twenty-two years of elegant baseball service, reduced to 22 seconds, the worst 22 seconds of his career…and his life.
Number 6…you were NOTHING but class!
Lobster on the Prairie 