A Cautionary Tale...

I just learned that a terrific ballplayer, Bill Buckner has died. In his 21 year MLB career, Buckner racked up some impressive, if not Hall of Fame stats. But in a twist of fate, he will forever be remembered for one unfortunate play. Many people including me remember exactly where they were when they witnessed the event live on October 25, 1986. The following cautionary tale whose motto, be careful what you wish for, was written in his honor a few years ago:

Bill Buckner 1949-2019

On October 26, 1986 I heard the following joke:

First Person: Someone told me that Bill Buckner attempted suicide last night.
Second Person: Really? That´s terrible.
First Person: Yeah, but he let the train roll through his legs.

So you want to be a big league baseball player? Well first you have to be good. Then you have to have parents or some kind of mentor willing to support your dream who will go the extra mile to play catch with you every day, teach you how to hit and throw the ball, pay for little league, then the traveling team, and be willing to get you to all the games, even if they´re two or three states over.

Maybe if you´re lucky, you´ll make the high school team and if you´re good enough, you could be the star of the team. If you´re exceptional, you might be able to get a scholarship to go to college and play ball, or if you´re phenomenal, you might even get noticed by a professional scout who just might sign you up for a tryout. 

Beware though, there are lots of ballplayers out there who´d love to be in your position and make one slip up, they will be in your position. But you´re really good, have a terrific attitude and luck´s been on your side up until now. You´ve worked your butt off for years, suffering through some real asshole coaches and you´ve finally made it into the minor leagues. Slowly you work your way up through the ranks, schlepping yourself and your gear onto buses for endless rides to podunk towns. 

Eventually you´re lucky enough and good enough to get your chance at the Big Show. It certainly doesn´t get any easier up there, the only exception being someone else gets to carry your gear and you travel from town to town by plane. And oh yes, there´s the money. Now, not only are lots of people hungry for your job, there are lots of others who are after your scratch as well. Somehow, by hook or by crook, despite the numerous injuries and the nagging pain you´ve been playing through for years, you built yourself a respectable career at the highest level attainable in your profession. Before you know it, you have more games behind you than in front of you and the twilight of your career is fast approaching. 

But you end up on a team with a shot at the Series and this might be your last chance to get a ring, the dream of every kid who ever picks up a bat and a ball. That ring is so close you can almost taste it, you´re two runs up, only three outs away. Then things start to unravel; they tie it up but no problem, you have plenty of time to get back into the game. Next thing you know, the ball is hit to you, an easy roller to first, all you have to do is move a little to your left, pick up the ball and make an easy toss to the pitcher covering the bag, inning over. It hurts like hell but your gimpy legs get you there OK, you bend down and get into proper fielding position, glove square on the ground. Somehow the ball just seems to skip past the glove, you don´t know, it all happened so fast. The ball goes between your legs and into right field, runner scores, game over.

Never mind that your pitchers gave up two runs after two men were out in the inning. Never mind the wild pitch allowing the tying run to score that your catcher could have but didn´t stop. Never mind that the batter was running so hard down the line you might not have had a chance to get him anyway. Never mind the team you were playing didn´t win 108 games that year for nothing. Never mind that your team had the chance to pick you up in the next game but didn´t. Never mind that your team probably wouldn´t have gotten there in the first place without you. It doesn´t matter, you will go down in history as the guy who lost the game and the World Series for your team.

In the end, despite having had a terrific career, you will go to your grave being remembered as the guy who let the ball go through his legs in the sixth game of the ´86 Series.

Remember son, for every one Bill Mazeroski or Joe Carter, there are dozens and dozens of Bill Buckners.

RIP