The Severed Cortex

Link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buck_O%27Neil

I write this with a very heavy heart and very watery eyes.
A quick look at the news sites late last night turned up a story that I knew was inevitable but didn't want to hear. John 'Buck' O'Neil died yesterday and leaves a legacy that few in baseball will ever be able to top. I, like many other young white guys, really got my first exposure to Buck O'Neil through Ken Burns' Baseball documentary. The story he told about how he knew a real home run hitter from the sound the ball made on the bat captivated me; it started with Babe Ruth when he was a kid in Florida watching Yankee spring training, shifted to Hank Aaron, and ended with his beloved Royals' own Bo Jackson. Some might say that's a strange name to throw in with two of the biggest home run hitters in baseball, but the way Buck O'Neil told the story it didn't matter. He could have talked about Biff Pocoraba and I would have been mesmerized.

Over the years I've said, 'I need to go see ~fill in name of person here~ before they are gone'. I said it about blues man Henry Townsend and missed out. I said it about soul legend Little Milton and missed that too. Recently I've been saying that about Chuck Berry. I've also said that about Buck O'Neil for many years. Two months ago I got my chance. Nancy and I went to Kansas City for a Royals-White Sox game and we decided to visit the Negro League museum. I'd always heard that he hung out there a lot. We went through the whole museum and I didn't see him. I was a little disappointed, but not for very long. While hanging out in the lobby I saw him sitting on a bench by the front doors. I hesitated and decided that I wouldn't bother him. Nancy slapped me back into reality by pointing out that meeting him was all I'd talked about for the past couple weeks. This was the chance to meet him. Fortunately I agreed that she was right. This particular day happened to be two days after the Hall of Fame Induction ceremony; a ceremony where 17 Negro League players were inducted and Buck was not included. As I walked up to him he held out his hand to shake mine. As we shook hands I said, "Mr. O'Neil, I think with all the things you have done for baseball, it's a travesty that you were not voted into the Hall of Fame". He looked back at me and said in words that will be implanted in my head until the day I pass, "If it is to be, it will be". How he could take this attitude after all the hard work he put into baseball? From everything I've read about him, this was his attitude toward life. He felt that baseball had already paid him in full by allowing to play, coach, and scout the sport for all those years.
That was all I got to say to him. He excused himself because he said he was late for another appointment. That one minute with Buck O'Neil may go down as the greatest baseball moment in my life. If it is, I'm a very lucky man. To me, it's the finest 'brush with greatness'. Thank you Buck O'Neil for all you have done for baseball. Thank you also for spending a small amount of time with me.

I found this beautiful quote from Reggie Jackson:
"What a fabulous human being. He was a blessing for all of us. I believe that people like Buck and Rachel Robinson and Martin Luther King and Mother Teresa are angels that walk on earth to give us all a greater understanding of what it means to be human. I'm not sad for him. He had a long, full life and I hope I'm as lucky, but I'm sad for us."

CBS Sunday Morning had Ken Burns on commenting on Buck O'Neil. Mr. Burns said that although Buck never showed it, he truly believed that Buck died of a broken heart for not making it into the Hall of Fame. This makes me feel even more sad. I don't know whether to think my comment to Mr. O'Neil back in Kansas City was some solace to him or whether it was a dagger in the heart to him. I think he knows that I meant it in the kindest way possible, but if not I truly apologize to him.