Anyone with a beating heart (James would say "bleeding" heart here) had to have become completely unglued upon witnessing Bill Buckner's well-deserved reception at Fenway yesterday. I saw it on the news this morning and lost it all over again. This poor haunted man standing on the pitcher's mound, tearing up amid a thunderous four minute standing ovation. This poor man who was thrown to to the dogs (or in this case, to Idaho) for one error made 22 years ago. While October 25, 1986 was a bad day for Boston, it was an even worse day for him. I think most people felt sorry for Buckner but it sure couldn't have seemed that way to him and his family. Fans lacking empathy and grey matter -- always the loudest among us -- garnered the most attention and ran him out of town with pitchforks and torches. For once, the loud ones were on the right side. Ok, I have to go cry a little more.
I found this poem "Forgiving Buckner" by a Boston poet named John Hodgens. It's definitely worth checking out, especially if you are of the beating/bleeding heart persuasion.