He played in the majors for 22 seasons, amassing over 2700 hits, hitting over .300 in seven seasons, never striking out more than 38 times in a season and not more than twice in a game. Yet what people remember most about him was a miscue in a 1986 World Series game.
Hobbled by a bad ankle, Buckner missed a slow roller hit down the line and which allowed the Mets to score the winning running and tie the Series at 3 games apiece. He was Bill Buckner. As Bob Verdi wrote for the Chicago Tribune on the evening of that game, “nobody felt lower—but put up a braver front—than Buckner.”
The Red Sox lost Game 7 and Buckner was trapped in infamy, which conveniently overlooked the fact that Red Sox pitching had faltered and enabled the Mets to win Game 6 and again the next day.
Still fans, and the media at times, love a scapegoat and so Bill Buckner became the goat of the city. Things over the years became so bad that he and his family moved about as far from Boston as possible—to Idaho—to escape the vitriol.
Long after moving to Idaho, Buckner told the Boston Globe, “There could be somebody in my shoes who would think that life sucks,” Buckner said. “I chose to look at it that life is great. You can make those choices. Everyone in life has things that don’t go according to plan.”
Twenty-two years later, and after the Red Sox had burnished the ghost of losing 1986 World Series by winning a couple of them, to Fenway Park in 2008 where the fans greeted him warmly, causing an emotional Buckner to tear up.
No person is equal to their worst moment, but in sports, that sometimes happens. People often remember the players who struck out, the pitchers who gave up the winning home run, or the players that made an error. Yet when the stakes are high, as in the World Series, that is how you are remembered.
Bill Buckner understood this and never made excuses. He didn’t talk about his bum ankle; he accepted the fact that he had made an error. In doing so, Buckner showed the world what it means to live with grace. A lesser man would have blamed others, even his manager for putting him out there. Not Buckner. He stood tall; he did not allow one bad play to define his life. And so he is fondly remembered now upon the occasion of his death at age 69 of Lewy Body dementia.
How you live with grace says much about character. While some of us may get miffed by a slight from a colleague, it’s good to let it slide. Sometimes confronting the demon is appropriate, but if the demon buys ink by the barrel, you just live your life as best you can. As Sean Gregory writes in Time.com, “Buckner was never lucky that Boston forgave him for his error. No, the fans benefitted from his kindness. He forgave them.”
Grace is the capacity that each of us has to take what life gives us, and rather than obsess on what went wrong, focus instead on what went right. For those in positions of leadership, grace is the ability to look at people as contributors rather than as dead weights. A leader who lives in grace is one who has an open heart as well as an open mind.
Buckner also had a strong sense of himself that allowed for self-deprecation. In an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Larry David, the show’s creator and star, is excited to receive a signed baseball by Mookie Wilson, the man who hit the roller to Buckner. As things would have it, Bill Buckner is in the scene and is standing in front of an open window. Larry tosses the ball to him and of course, it slips through his fingers and flies out the window. Larry’s friend Susie berates Buckner, in a manner reminiscent of Boston fans.
But this being Hollywood there is a second act. Buckner later finds himself standing outside a burning building and sees a woman toss her baby onto the fireman’s net. Only the baby hits the net and bounces high into the air. This time Buckner is the hero who catches the baby and tumbles to the pavement with the baby safely in his arms.
A moment of grace for a good man who deserves to be well-remembered.
