Back in 1986, my aunt was living with us, and she was engaged to a man who would be my uncle in less than a year. Both families were crazy Mets fans, and so the families decided the best time to have an engagement party was for Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. I don’t remember much about that party or that season, but the six year old me remembers the roar in my parent’s basement as Mookie Wilson‘s grounder went between Bill Buckner‘s legs.

It’s not always a scene you see. In-laws openly embracing each other jumping up and down in joy. Really, aside from the birth of a baby, can you think of something that could bring families that much together and that much joy?

But that was our joy. For Buckner, it was obviously humiliating, and oddly enough, it was something he feared heading into that World Series. It’s hard to imagine your worst nightmares becoming true, and then becoming a scapegoat for Calvin Schiraldi and Bob Stanley choking, Rich Gedman whiffing on a ball he should have caught, and John McNamara having one of the worst games and series anyone has ever seen.

Sure, Buckner would got 2-for-4 in Game 7, and he would start an eighth inning rally for a desperate team, but like the Red Sox rally there, it was too little too late. He became a villain in Boston, and he would struggle the following year leading to his eventual release. In many ways, he never quite got to make up for the loss which was somewhat unfairly attributed to him. Worse yet, he was chased out of his Massachusetts home to live on the other side of the county.

Despite all that, Buckner had a life well worth living.

Even with him being chased out of Boston, he would not be chased out of baseball. He was the hitting coach for the 1996 – 1997 Chicago White Sox. By OPS+, Frank Thomas would have the second best year of his Hall of Fame career under Buckner’s tutelage. By wRC+, over that two year span, the White Sox had the sixth best offense in the Majors. This was the last time Buckner got to wear a Major League uniform on the field.

As the years progressed, Buckner would do autograph shows with Mookie Wilson, and the two would eventually become friends. There is a certain integrity in a man who did not hide from the worst moment in his life. There’s more integrity to stand there and be accountable like he was at the autograph shows and when he was there for MLB Network for the re-telling of the game. More than any of that, Buckner never pointed his fingers towards his manager or teammate. Rather, he accepted the blame for his role like the real man he was – a real man who raised a family with two daughters and a son.

Time heals all wounds, and it would for Buckner. Finally, after the Red Sox broke the curse and won the World Series, he was able to return to Fenway. Instead of being chased from the park, he was cheered, and he threw out the first pitch. Eventually, Buckner, himself, would be in on the joke appearing in a hysterical episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where this time he saved the day by making a catch:

That would mark the second time for me Buckner would bring me joy. The first was his worst moment. The second was one of his best.

In his life, Buckner brought joy to millions in his best times. He won a batting title with the Cubs in 1980, and he was an All-Star for that team a year later. He helped the 1974 Dodgers get to the World Series. He was a good player with 2,715 hits, which was more than many Hall of Famers.

Overall, Buckner was a good ballplayer who had a bad moment. It was a moment which will forever follow him, and it is a moment which forever defined him. In 1986, he might have defined him as a choker who was not welcome in Boston. By 2019, it defined him as a human being who was able to persevere to have a good life. Fortunately, that is the man we remember today, and it will be the man who will be remembered going forward.

Rest in Peace, Bill Buckner.