Buckner You Fucker!

 Buckner You Fucker!

     1974 was a complicated and frustrating year except on the diamond at Dodger Stadium. Our beloved men in blue had an exceptional year lead by fan fave Jimmy Wynn backed by pitching stars Don "Sonny Boy" Sutton and Andy Messerschmidt. The team was bolstered by a prick relief pitcher named Mike Marshall and good hitting by the solid infield of Garvey, Lopes, Russell and Cey along with handsome outfielder Bill Buckner. Billy Bucks was Timo's favorite and was a fine hitter and fielder before he messed up his ankle the following year. Despite his one fatal error Buckner was a terrific ballplayer who won batting titles and gave his all to win ballgames. Meanwhile out in Brentwood on Church Lane I was renting an apartment where the fellas often sat in beat up furniture watching a portable TV turned up loud to overcome the roar of the nearby San Diego freeway. October 17 was a Thursday but every day was Sunday in those care-filled days on the West side. Timo had come out that day to root for what seemed to be a lost cause in the World Series against the powerful Oakland A's. The Swinging A's were one of the greatest teams in baseball history and two-time WS champs but our Dodgers had won 100 games and were loaded with those two ace starting pitchers along with the Cy Young winning Marshall closing. The games in the series were tight and four of the contests were 3-2 games including the deciding game we were watching on Church Lane on a rather muggy, warm evening. My upstairs neighbor was a gentle and friendly middle-aged lady who had just one arm. I never asked her what happened but she never spoke a cross word to me despite my crash pad antics next door. We called her "the one-armed bandit" with fondness and she had  grimy mechanic boyfriend who seemed to make her  happy. Downstairs was poor Mrs. Winkleman who was a formerly wealthy widow who had to downsize to make sure her money lasted for her golden years. In her modest downstairs apartment she had beautiful, expensive furniture from her previous lush life in Brentwood. To get to the point,  Timo and I were fitfully watching our Dodgers flail at the pitches of Vida Blue most of the day untill they tied the game in the 6th. Then LA went to our great reliever who promptly served up a homer to put the A's back in front 3-2 in the 7th.  Knowing we would face the great Rollie Fingers in the late innings my confidence was low. In my frustration I began to putter around in the apartment and found myself trapped into chatting with "the Bandit" on my back porch. At that time, with the Dodgers needing a run we had Timo favorite Buckner leading off.  Bucks ripped a ball into center field, all the way to the distant wall at the Oakland-Alameda Coliseum for an easy double but in his excitement  he foolishly tried to make it a triple and was thrown out at third.. I heard Tim yell a bit but I was stuck with the nice neighbor. Then as I politely stood on the porch Timo boomed "Buckner You Fucker!"as Billy was tagged out at third and Dodger hopes were dashed. The neighbor scuttled back into her kitchen and the Dodgers meekly made five more outs handing the Swingings their third consecutive World Championship.