Bill Buckner died 5 years ago. Years after he had that World Series game 6 ball go through his ankles, years after he had his final at bat, back with the Red Sox, years after he threw the opening pitch before a Fenway game in 2008.
The city of Boston forgave him, as they should have, (but there was nothing to forgive) maybe because his friend Dewey Evans was there at his back, and no one in Boston steps to Dewey, no one.
But these were my thoughts after that game 6 anyway.
A swing that looked like it belonged
in the time of a Glenn Miller Song
His glove owned that first bag corner
pitchers feared the bat's owner
and he failed less than most
but no one's raising a toast
because of one singular ball
found its way between his ankle bones
Just because I haven't done it
Doesn't mean I haven't seen it
How can you burn down
Someone you’ve never even known
He has 2,715 more than you
and a hundred more than Teddy Baseball
He's ahead of Ernie Banks
300 more than Mark Grace
But he's still not in the hall
So people with clothes soaked with beer
would slander his name and jeer
because the gods of the World Series
picked him to be the guy to smear
If the ball hadn't skipped when it was supposed to jump
then his knees would've needed to race Mookie
and he probably would have lost
and Stanley never would have made it for the toss
Just because I haven't done it
Doesn't mean I haven't seen it
Some of your corrupted minds
seem to think that he'd mean it
when the ball went through his knees
during the goddamn World Series
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