The Frail First Baseman

October 25, 1986 - World Series Game 6, Red Sox vs. Mets

On May 2, 1986, Americans mourned the loss of their Fall Guy. Colt Seavers (sometimes known as Lee Majors), using his dual roles as Hollywood stuntman and all-around bad ass bounty hunter, shut down a morality eroding night club and sent its corrupt owner to jail for selling PCP to impressionable kids. After making our neighborhoods safer, and our Friday nights on ABC just a little brighter, Colt said goodbye to us forever.

No more cheesy car stunts, no more GMC 4x4, and sadly, no more Heather Thomas.

The same night we lost Colt, the Boston Red Sox lost 4-1 to the Oakland A's, dropping them to the third place in the American League East. In that game first baseman Bill Buckner went 0-4 while stranding three base runners.

But in May Buckner was far from Boston's fall guy. In fact, thanks to 102 RBIs and 59 extra base hits, Buckner was very much in the good graces of Bostonians all the way to October. He was a key cog in the wheel that had taken the Red Sox from third place in May, to just an out away from beating the Mets in the World Series, ending 68 years of postseason misery and bringing good baseball times back to Beantown.

But in what stands as one of the most famous half-innings in baseball history, the bottom of the 10th of Game 6, after Wally Backman and Keith Hernandez recorded the first two outs, those cogs began to break. Gary Carter lashed a single to left. Kevin Mitchell lined a single to center. And when Ray Knight followed that with a single to center of his own, New York had the tying run just 90 feet away.

Relief pitcher Calvin Schiraldi had been solid for the Sox all season, finishing the year with an ERA of 1.41. And in his one earlier World Series appearance, he'd pitched a scoreless ninth inning to pick up the save in Game 1. But he had already pitched the 8th and 9th innings, and perhaps along with a little fatigue, nerves were setting in for the 24-year old.

Bob Stanley was Boston manager John McNamara's veteran in the bullpen. And Stanley was having a great Series. He'd picked up the save in Game 2 and had thrown three scoreless innings in Games 3 and 4. Yet it wasn't until after Schiraldi had been touched for three straight hits before McNamara made the pitching change. That was mistake #1.

Stanley, twice an All-Star in his career, and a former starting pitcher with as many as nine complete games in a single-season, was given the most important task of his life: retire Mookie Wilson. But with the count 2-2, and the Sox just one strike away from champagne - as they had been with Knight - Stanley buried a wild pitch in the dirt, scoring Mitchell to tie the game, 5-5, and moving Knight, the winning run, into scoring position.

Very few people talk about that wild pitch. Or the three straight hits that preceded it. Or McNamara's decision to stick with Schiraldi for a third, disastrous, inning after he'd already blown the save in the 8th. But everyone knows what happened next.

After fouling off several more pitches from Stanley, keeping his at-bat alive with a 3-2 count, Wilson hit a soft groundball down the first base line that appeared to send Game 6 into the 11th inning. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was through the legs of Buckner and into right field, scoring Knight all the way from second base. Game over. Red Sox choke. Mets win.

And after an 8-5 Mets victory in Game 7 two nights later (rain pushed it back a day), the World Series tickertape parade was being scheduled for New York's "Canyon of Heroes." The city of Boston's October parade plans would have to wait another eighteen years.

The condemnation was swift and thorough and pointed. Buckner was to blame for the loss. It was an easy groundball, he was a major league baseball player, and with everything on the line, an error on such a play was unforgivable. Why didn't he get down on the ball - at least keep it in front of him? Why, Buckner, why?

But I have a question. Why don't those same people ask why Buckner was in the game in the first place?

In Games 1, 2, and 5 - the three games won by Boston - Buckner was on the bench by the final inning. He was playing on badly injured legs, having torn away much of the muscle from his ankle. And because they so greatly limited his mobility, McNamara has used Dave Stapleton as a defensive replacement when the Sox had a late lead. So what was different in Game 6? Why was Buckner still in? Extra innings, up by a pair of runs, with a chance to close out the season; surely that's the time to slant every possible percentage to your favor.

There are two possibilities as to why McNamara didn't make the defensive switch that he had been making all series. Some people blame sentiment. McNamara liked Buckner. He was a team player nearing the end of his career. And the manager wanted to let Buckner win his first World Series on the field and not the bench. Possible, and plausible, but not how you manage your way to a World Series ring - which McNamara never did.

The second possibility is that McNamara simply forgot. Considering the way he watched Schiraldi get touched for three straight line drive hits, losing the lead for the second time in three innings, McNamara seemed more like a spectator in the 10th inning than the actual skipper. Also, not how you manage a team in the World Series. Or softball beer leagues, for that matter.

Somehow, however, McNamara escaped the hammering Boston media. Buckner was run out of town the following season, released by the Red Sox in July. But McNamara managed his way through an entire season fifth place finish in 1987. In 1988, with the Sox still stuck in fifth at the All-Star break, McNamara was finally replaced by third base coach Joe Morgan. (Not to be confused with the Hall of Fame second baseman who knocked in the winning run in Game 3 of the 1975 World Series against Boston after Cincinnati was given a giant assist from umpire Larry Barnett. Read the book The Worst Call Ever for that complete story.)

Buckner finished his playing career with 2715 hits. That's more than Ted Williams, Jim Rice, and Carlton Fisk. Yet those three men are Red Sox heroes. Buckner is unabashedly the ultimate Red Sox goat.

It's time the weights of that designation get deeded back to man who doomed the frail first baseman: manager John McNamara.